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Guest
Guest
Were you there? Was that you?
If it was you, and you did see me, you witnessed me at my near possible worst.
You saw a harried woman, unbrushed hair pulled up high in a huge clip and tousled bangs all over her face. No makeup.
This woman was wearing one of her husband's denim shirts. The shirt fell halfway to her knees (which is probably a good thing because it almost completely covered the used-to-be-white shorts she was wearing).
Those used-to-be-white shorts were covered with a cacophony of stains: grass from gardening, pink nail polish from assisting with daughter's manicure, a big splotch of spaghetti sauce from last night's dinner exploding and a miniscule drop of ink from the Lexmark printer. We're working on the Science Fair project.
So, were you there?
Were you one of the gentlemen who graciously stepped aside as I tore around the aisles in a shopping frenzy?
Were you the check-out gal (ex-student) who managed to recognize me despite my dishevelment?
Perhaps you were the kind man in the parking lot who came to my assistance after I managed to slam my heel in the back part of the shopping cart. He helped me unload my packages and didn't even bat an eye when he noticed my legs and feet. The dichotomy of grass stains on my knees against flirty sandals and a whore-of-babylon-red pedicure must have boggled his mind.
But he was still most polite.
And now I'm home. Safe. Hiding.
So - was it you?
Did you see me?
God, I hope not.
If it was you, and you did see me, you witnessed me at my near possible worst.
You saw a harried woman, unbrushed hair pulled up high in a huge clip and tousled bangs all over her face. No makeup.
This woman was wearing one of her husband's denim shirts. The shirt fell halfway to her knees (which is probably a good thing because it almost completely covered the used-to-be-white shorts she was wearing).
Those used-to-be-white shorts were covered with a cacophony of stains: grass from gardening, pink nail polish from assisting with daughter's manicure, a big splotch of spaghetti sauce from last night's dinner exploding and a miniscule drop of ink from the Lexmark printer. We're working on the Science Fair project.
So, were you there?
Were you one of the gentlemen who graciously stepped aside as I tore around the aisles in a shopping frenzy?
Were you the check-out gal (ex-student) who managed to recognize me despite my dishevelment?
Perhaps you were the kind man in the parking lot who came to my assistance after I managed to slam my heel in the back part of the shopping cart. He helped me unload my packages and didn't even bat an eye when he noticed my legs and feet. The dichotomy of grass stains on my knees against flirty sandals and a whore-of-babylon-red pedicure must have boggled his mind.
But he was still most polite.
And now I'm home. Safe. Hiding.
So - was it you?
Did you see me?
God, I hope not.