7am this morning I stare at myself in the mirror. Tired eyes. Mussed hair. Slightly Frankensteinesque expression. What is on my face? Aoohh, mascara. Wow that looks bad. Good thing I caught that before anybody saw me.
Have you ever noticed that there's two techniques people generally use to say something about a flaw in your physical appearance? There's the gal who will reach out and take that hideous eye-booger out for you, and then there's the gal who says "you have something in your eye" and stares with flared nostrils right at the booger until you remove it. Or how about the guy who congenially corrects you by sneaking in the correct answer/word vs. the guy who loudly exposes your mistake to everyone and their mother?
Grandmotherly vs. Stupid head meany butt-face
or
Considerate vs. Rude
My all-time favorite situation is when my pants zipper is unzipped and the person I'm talking with (inevitably either someone I wish to impress or someone who finds great joy in making our interactions feel like taser training) glances down to my crotch zipper as I'm walking up to him/her; face, crotch, face, crotch. Face.... crotch-face.
"Uhh.... Do you know that your barn door is wide open?"
"What?" My barn door?
"Your barn door. Since lunch your zipper has been down."
*Glance at crotch. DANG it! Awkward dig for zipper.... Continues... I got it. Wait, shoot! no I don't. Come on you stupid, stupid thing. I hate you, I HATE YOU, come ON! Zzzzziiip. My WORD, finally!*
"Thanks! Whew, good thing you caught that!"
"Yeah, it has been like that since lunch."
Why didn't you tell me that, you poop head?!
"Well thanks for letting me know!"
"Yeah, no problem. Any time."
Yeah, I'm sure...
Those moments age people. They are so crisp - so ripe with fear of ridicule - that you can practically taste the acidity of your pain.
And that is why I like the eye-booger-plucking people. Because they are quick, painless, and efficient. They see the problem, understand the social embarrassment potential, and do what they must to remedy the issue with minimal amounts of drama. None of that snide comment stuff.
Back at the mirror I finish my thoughts, scratch behind me ear, hitch up my Ranger pants and swear to myself that if it's the last thing I do I will be an eye-booger person.
Good Monday to you, my friends.
