It’s Wednesday again. And this hump day is humping me, if you know what I mean.
Currently Wearing: black silky v-neck sweater, long-ish maroon skirt, pink tights, black boots, sparkly jewelry.
Currently Reading: Predators, Prey, and Other Kinfolk: Growing Up In Polygamy by Dorothy Allred Solomon.
Currently Favoring: Crabtree & Evelyn® Gardener’s Hand Therapy. Not only is it creamy and soothing – it goes on with a hint of scent, and as it warms, my hands radiate with cinnamon goodness.
Currently Looking For: music by Jack Johnson and Jet. Damn you VH1 for your suggestive sell!
Currently noshing on: a blueberry muffin, tasteless raspberry-white chocolate Light ‘n Fit™ yogurt by Dannon®, and watery cocoa.
I get the most bizarre compliments.
Such as: “You aren’t the most beautiful woman, but there’s something about you.”
This was followed by my jaw dropping, and much stammering on the part of the would-be complimenter. “Um — you know — I mean — I didn’t….” He sure didn’t.
Or the infamous: “You have your off days, but you’re the hottest straight women at [The Agency].” To this I responded with a very articulate “I gotta go” and made a mad dash from the dance floor.
Then, on my walk to work Monday, I was suddenly joined by a strange man in a bright green parka. He yelled at me to get my attention, and when I finally noticed him and took out my earphones, he grinned and stated, “you look like a leprechaun in that hat…no, no – that’s a good thing!” The “no, no” part of it was in no doubt response to my non-verbal acknowledgment of the comment (a look somewhere between amusement and fright). After asking me what music I was listening to and comparing me favorably to Janet Jackson (more than a huge leap, I’d say), he ricocheted off into the crowd, mumbling something about “…thinks I’m crazy…” which proves his powers of perception were not entirely clouded.
Now don’t misunderstand me – I appreciate what these folks were trying to say (except maybe the Janet Jackson thing). It’s just, well, what is it about me that seems to elicit these poorly crafted statements of half-assed admiration?
I try to look at it this way: In high school, when I thought I was hugely fat even though I wore size 12 jeans, I came to the conclusion that my lack of dates senior year meant that guys were intimidated by me. By my walk and my style and my flair for weird hats. I guess I’ll go with that. The size of my jeans (20) has changed, but the rest is just the same.
So stammer on, boys. I think I know what you meant by it.