I also look ridiculous with these way out-of-season khaki cargo pants with three-quarter legs, except that due to some flab reduction, they hang off my hips and my crotch is hanging halfway down my thighs, like some try-hard gangster or ‘wigga’ (’white nigger’, wannabe black gangster, I believe).
Females of a certain kin always look down on me, especially so in my part of the suburbs. Their eyes tell me “I’m so much better than you,” and worse of all, you sort of start to believe it after a while.
Anyway, post office. I get the male sales assistant. Feck, he’s good-looking too. I feel like such an idiot as I hand my chosen glam mags over the counter. For a split second, I imagine I catch a glimpse in his eye that says: “What on earth could such a plain, unremarkable creature want with magazines like these?!” Is it my imagination? There doesn’t seem to be any pity or mockery in his voice or manner, in fact he addresses me with something like compassion, even friendliness.
Still, it seems like I’m standing there for eternity in my most awful clothes, and am self-conscious of smelling…unpleasant. Why the hell did I go out looking like such crap? I whine inwardly. But then, I notice that the attractive sales attendant is wearing an hideous T-shirt in the most garish fuchsia with some sort of advertising slogan for upcoming Mothers’ Day.
My, how the tables have turned! I think he even catches the glimpse of amusement in my eyes, which I quickly banish seeing as he was kind enough to ignore me looking like a hobo. I pay for my magazines and rush off, wishing I never had to venture out in public again.
Now, you’ll note that most of what just transpired isn’t hard fact, but based on assumption: I assumed that I would be belittled due to my appearance. I assumed that others would see me and think of themselves as more attractive. I assumed that we’d judge the hell out of one another, and not in any positive way.
Why is this?
You’ll have to read the next instalment; this got unintentionally long, and to force you to read any more would just be plain old cruel.
To be continued…
2 Comments
Ah, love, it’s been a rough time of late! I’m sure your friends understand that shite just happens sometimes. You sound like you’re doing your best to get through it.
I think I know what you mean about perceived or real judgement on appearance. Apparently, I look a lot younger than I am, and I’m pretty sure some people treat me differently because of this. That is, until they get to know me. Sometimes I’ll think about a particular circumstance and wonder if that was why they treated me the way they did. But most of the time, I don’t worry about it at all.
And speaking of unbrushed hair and pallid faces… That was me this morning, in addition to wearing trackpants and a top that looked like night attire, with ballet-type slippers, I went down to put washing in the machine only to find a very neatly attired young woman in there folding her washing. I felt she was looking at me thinking I looked like I just got out of bed…which was pretty much the truth. I tried not to worry about it, I mean, it isn’t like I put makeup on to put the laundry on! We all have our days though, and you can’t help thinking, at that moment, why didn’t I at least, just brush my hair before I walked out the door? Here I was assuming what she was thinking about me, but I’m pretty sure that she didn’t give two hoots.
PS: By the way, I liked your fuchsia lips!
Hi VK, thanks for the appreciation of fuchsia lips! It’s probably one of the coolest colours I can get away with wearing.
I guess I’d been having a lot of trouble getting out of the house and on that particular day, I was determined regardless of how awful I looked, that I was going to make it out dammit! I had so much stuff to do that I dare not leave to anyone else.
It’s sort of sad, but judgement seems generally to be the resort of those who are less educated or incredibly insecure. At least, I plan to provide some incriminating evidence illustrating this in my next entry.
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