I’ve always considered myself to have high self esteem.
Of course there are those “bad hair days,” and those “fugly days” and the worse of the lot, those “hippo days.”
Fortunately, those days are far and few between.
Isn’t it surprising then that just when you’re feeling on top of the world something happens to kick you back to one of the aforementioned statuses?
Like finding yourself sandwiched between Ms. Vogue and Ms. Elle. Flowing tresses, devoid of split ends, perfectly manicured hands, perfectly pedicured feet, makeup fit for any Hollywood star, and legs that don’t stop.
Any shred of self-esteem you may have had before has shamefully exited the building. The only thing you’re left with is a severe inner critic who seems hell-bent on reminding you that somewhere in a village, an oompa loompa has gone missing. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the cashier’s glasses and you see flyaways, frizz and is that a feather?!
You look down at your fingernails and wonder where they have gone.
You’re not brave enough to look down at your feet because you can’t remember the last time a pumice stone came within a ten-mile radius.
And the makeup?
Does pinching your cheeks and biting your lips count?
You pay for your items and do the walk of shame to the car.
As you sit in the driver’s seat, you wonder if there’s a pygmy village somewhere in Central Africa that would welcome you with open arms.
Suddenl,y you spy Ms. Vogue and Ms. Elle in the parking lot wearing their perfect outfits, sporting perfect hair, drinking their perfect Skinny Vanilla Lattes, and that’s when you see it.
You quickly put the key in the ignition, pull out of the parking space, and wait.
They’re almost where you want them.
You put the car in drive as they get closer.
Just a few more steps.
You take your foot off the brake and head for it.
It’s perfect and waiting.
Waiting, just waiting.
The minute they walk next to it, you floor it.
Dirty water spurts everywhere.
Screams are heard.
Bags are dropped.
Cursing ensues.
As you drive off, you look in the mirror and witness the macabre scene.
Ms. Elle and Ms. Vogue giving you the finger as they run after your vehicle.
No more flowing locks of hair.
No more perfect makeup.
No more gorgeous outfits.
Just two crazed looking women running behind your car drenched in muddy water.
Because while Mother Nature doesn’t always give us looks to die for, now and then she bequeaths us with the perfect puddle.
1. Bella
2. http://gypsyroxylee.wordpress.
3. Coffee addict, lover of laughter, and loyal supporter of the “March to the sound of your own drum” movement. I hope to one day retire to the Tuscany Region where I will press my own olive oil, laze in the sun, and drink Chianti to my heart’s content.
About Guest Writer
