Flirting over the canned peas and macaroni
/
Today I was strolling up and down the aisles of my local grocery store. I kept meeting the same person in the middle of each aisle. Every time I passed this man, he smiled up and me and said, "Hello, pretty lady."
Which, thanks to my most thoughtful son telling me all that is wrong with my fine self, I was needing today.
With each passing aisle, and each passing compliment, my self-esteem soared. See, McKay, SEE? Strangers tell me I'm pretty. I can't be ALL THAT bad.
But our little game ended when I heard him say the exact same thing to another store patron. Sadly, it was not a trim, cute soccer mom that drew his attentions away from me. It was a balding, elderly man wearing a pink shirt.
Next time our carts passed, I eyed him more carefully.
He is mentally challenged.
And I, unfortunately, am still ugly.
Which, thanks to my most thoughtful son telling me all that is wrong with my fine self, I was needing today.
With each passing aisle, and each passing compliment, my self-esteem soared. See, McKay, SEE? Strangers tell me I'm pretty. I can't be ALL THAT bad.
But our little game ended when I heard him say the exact same thing to another store patron. Sadly, it was not a trim, cute soccer mom that drew his attentions away from me. It was a balding, elderly man wearing a pink shirt.
Next time our carts passed, I eyed him more carefully.
He is mentally challenged.
And I, unfortunately, am still ugly.
