Sometimes I feel so defeated by my circumstances. I think I am one way, then I round a corner and unexpectedly the truth confronts me.
Our plan for the day was to go to Winners and get the kids some pyjamas, then get some lunch. Then we'd go to the 5th Street shops to play in the toy store for a bit, get an ice cream cone, and find a birthday present for my mother.
We were in the posh hand-poured chocolates store, choosing our ice cream cones. The girl behind the counter had black and pink hair, piercings and a complex tattoo up the entirety of one arm. Throughout the whole process of gazing through the glass, helping my five-year-old read the labels, and choosing what they wanted to have, the server was putting across waves of disdain. There was palpable scorn, covered with the thinnest-possible veneer of civility.
Unfortunately it takes me a few minutes to recognize rudeness when it comes my way. I don't know why this should be: whether it's because I am in a pleasant world of my own, or if it's because I expect others to extend the same courtesies to me as I do to them. In any case, after I paid, thanked her, handed the kids the ice cream, and was pocketing my wallet I realized that the complicated tattoo I had noticed before was in fact an illustration from Dr Seuss' "Oh The Places You'll Go!" I was about to compliment her on it when I saw her send a freezing glance in my daughters' direction then roll her eyes at a coworker before turning away without a word.
Why the disdain of a total stranger should undermine me so completely, I have no idea. Why it matters what she thinks of me and my children, I don't know. Maybe she got me at a bad moment, already tired and a little frustrated with managing the kids' excited day, and what I mistook for scorn was actually indifference.
That, actually, might even be worse.
Anyhow, whether it had anything to do with me or not, I felt like what I suppose I actually am: a harassed, tired-looking woman dressed more for comfort than fashion, with minimal makeup, pushing back those strands that always escape from the hairclip, two small ragtag children in my wake, and maybe a few days past that critical moment when I really should have shaved my legs.
There's not much point dwelling on it. I am what I am - it's been a long time since I was 22 years old, with pink hair and no stretch marks.
I felt this irrational urge to shout at her "I LIKE your tattoo! I LOVE your tattoo! And your pink hair? I LOVE your pink hair! Inside this unimpressive and possibly frumpy exterior beats the heart of a ONCE-COOL CHICK just like you!"
Sigh.
11 comments:
Yuck. She'd probably had a run in already with some other children or something. I hear you on the outer image -- when did we become "The Mom"?
PS Very well written, my friend.
Oh, I so feel your pain! I am 45 and dumpy and sometimes I want to carry around a picture of myself at 22 and wave it at people: "Look! I was cool!" How pathetic is that?
But then I get over it. Because honestly I don't want to be that girl anymore. Although I am having the damnedest time throwing away my scruffy old Doc Martens.
I know - sometimes it is so hard knowing that the outside definately does not reflect the inside.
I was rebellious once too, wore combat boots to our small catholic church etc... Now? Now, I can barely pull myself out of bed early enough to wear make-up.
Cynthia, you nailed it. I do want to hold out a picture of me in my late teens, slim and svelte, with perky breasts and wearing the current fashion.
I tend to retaliate the other way - I want to get aggressive and in-your-face, and say loudly, "Listen, bi&%h, you may look cooler than me right now, but who's the one working in the ice cream shop?"
I can definitely relate - as most moms can. What happened to being able to spend an hour or an hour and a half just getting ready for the day??? Oh yeah - these wonderful beings (we have 5) who created the body that I now live in.
I hope your day is better now. A wise woman I wished I knew once told me something when my kids were screaming and yelling and generally acting like animals. She said, "Today it is your turn." That really hit home because yes, that day it was my turn to have monsters, and on another day they will be angels.
Take Care
I too have been in that place, on many occasions. Mostly I just ignored it, or at the most gave a withering look back, and believe me, my look can freeze the sun when I want it to. One time however I took a different tack. I smiled ever so sweetly, leaned forward over the counter and said....."promise me dear, that when you have snotty nosed, grumbly kids who are unable to make up their minds, you will tell me so that I can be there to make YOU feel ever so small and incompetent". She actually blushed and apologised. Much better than yelling or getting aggressive. hehe
Well, people who spend all their time and effort just trying to be cool might well find themselves damned to working in an ice cream shop.
Sue H, love your approach. You could have bought a high-powered rifle and climbed into a water tower, but I thing you handled it much better. Exquisitely, in fact.
Wow, Sue, impressive. . .
Shan and Gwen, If either of you are frumpy, dumpy, or "Mrs. Mom", I sure do not want to know into which category I fall. Scary thought. . .
Is that audio verification thing a joke?
Oh my gosh, that is the most bizarre thing I've ever heard.
All the comments I've left, and I've never clicked on that little wheelchair dude.
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