What, this old thing? I guess haters gonna hate...
This past weekend, I wasn't feeling the greatest about my style or my hair. The roots are growing out and exposing the grays while the ends are bleached blonde from a combination of the sun and the chlorine from the pool at the Y. I was so frustrated I was ready to call up my friend Liz to buzz it all off for charity.
Style-wise, being in-process of changing shape and not having excess money for brand-new clothes, I've been in my usual hunt for affordable fashion by thrifting.
So I was feeling kind of ugly and low rent. Until...
I encountered the ladies.
We were up in Gaylord for a skating comp I was judging. Going down for breakfast, I fluffed the hair and threw on a Liz Claiborne maxi dress I picked up at the Salvation Army for 49 cents. It was cute, in diagonal stripes of green, yellow and cream. I wasn't feeling like I was rockin' it, just wanting some coffee and maybe a bagel.
The first of "the ladies" I encountered was at the coffee station. Prim hair in a bun and wearing a long, pastel skirt and sweater on a day promising to be in the 90s, she took in my wild hair and body skimming dress... and gave me the up-and-down once-over, the sneer on her face making it clear she was not impressed with my lustful appearance.
I joined my husband and son back at the table, and then went to toast a bagel. I was polite, pleasant, and made small talk with a few people waiting their turn at the toaster. Evil appraisal number 2 came from a steel-haired bunhead wearing an ankle to neck denim jumper. She too thought me a harlot with bare leg peeking out of the slit and curls flying free.
I was starting to feel better about myself.
I whispered the incidents to my husband and he laid in wait for the next mean girl to pass judgement. It came from what appeared to be the preacher's wife, earnestly clutching a missile to her woolen breast, sensible shoes flaring out from legs knifing through the folds of her long, heavy gray skirt.
I felt like a whore in church. A HOT whore in church. Instead of shame, which is what I was sure they wished for me, I suddenly felt like I was workin' it.
I've never felt the positive power that kind of negativity can give you, and it felt kinda awesome.