Excuse me, but are you staring at my *its?
We learn a lot of lessons when we are little. Those pearls of wisdom that we are expected to hone while we are young and become part of our core values as adults. You remember them...
Treat elders with respect
Don't take the last piece of anything
Never show up empty handed to a party (unless of course you're crashing it)
Don't swear (whoopsy!)
Don't roll your eyes at people who stand on the left of the escalators (guilty!)
Look people in the eye when you're talking to them.......
You get the picture.
I went to a happy hour event tonight. As I pulled up a chair at one of the tables I accidentally banged into the chair next to me. Before I had a chance to say I was sorry, the handsome face on the guy sitting in the chair looked up at me. I smiled. We introduced ourselves. He had big brown eyes and a charming smile.
We chatted for about 15 minutes. We were having a nice conversation. He was funny. He was smart. He was.......scoping?
I couldn't help but notice that while we were talking his eyes kept lowering and gazing southward. He would ask me a question, I would answer it and then he would avoid eye contact and his eyes would wander, down there. Just as I was thinking how insulting his behavior was, he ended the conversation and got up from the table to get another drink at the bar, (even though we had a cocktail server assigned to our group). Quickly absorbed by a group of younger, skinnier and prettier girls, he was never to be seen of again for the rest of the evening.
So I did what any self-respecting woman does, I ordered another drink.
Fast forward to arriving home tonight. Right by the door to my apartment is a giant mirror. A mirror of any size would have been super helpful tonight, preferably before I went to the event.
If I could add just one rule to the list above it would be: cover up your..........*its.
And by (*), I mean Z, as in zits.
At the age of 37 I still get them, pimples. An enormous golf ball size, (maybe I'm slightly exaggerating), red, bump of angry flesh camping out on my face. After two days of intense treatment it was finally on the mend. I thought I had covered it up pretty well but my make-up was no match against the awful DC humidity. There it was staring at me when I got home, waving its big red flag like an astronaut claiming territory on my giant moon of a face. I think a tear drop tattooed on my cheek would have been less noticeable, (and definitely much hipper).
The moral of the story is, if you're talking to someone and they're not looking you in the eye, they could very well be staring at your giant ZITS. Ai yi yi.
