We just want to be understood
I try to be a forgiving person. I act tough mostly but there are times when people say or do things that get under my skin. Yesterday wasn't exactly like that. There were no words said at all, it's how the person behaved.
I was out on another ordinary day running errands. I got to see my favorite hot doctor, who put his arms around me, tipped me over and I was certain my brains were going to spill out (a medical test but we were giggling and I was hoping he'd kiss me, but that's just between us ghouls). I stopped in to visit with my mother, went out flower shopping and we ended up in the fabric store. I picked up some beautiful black stretch lace and more vintage Halloween print quilting cotton. While I was perusing the vast selection I couldn't help but overhear a conversation taking place between the employees there. The words "creepy" and "Halloween" came up. I thought, ooh, perhaps the newest Halloween fabrics arrived early. But the nature of the conversation was different and sounded more about me than anything.
Yesterday I had on my favorite dress, the chiffon Sourpuss X-ray dress which features various skeletal fragments. On top of that I had tied up a black chiffon blouse with ruffles, worn with knee high stockings, my fave chucks, and a great big black sun hat adorned with black roses. I thought I looked adorable. I had to dress nice for my hottie doctor. It's one of the few times I could say with confidence that I felt pretty. Sure, I had old people look at me funny but don't they always?
I was bothered by the fact that a conversation about my garments was taking place by people on staff. I couldn't make out exactly what was being said because they couldn't keep their volume under control. I'd get words and partial sentences here and there. "Ooh, don't you want to wear some bloody teeth." "It's just too creepy for me." Now I could be paranoid or even exaggerating but it's the treatment I received after this that bolstered my belief that they were talking shit about me.
I went to have my fabric cut and both girls at the table were quiet. The older employee who thought things were "creepy" had left. The one girl, who I know was involved in the conversation, did not even ask if I'd liked to be serviced. She just stopped what she was doing, shoved it aside and waited for me to bark orders at her. I remained poised and polite throughout the experience but I've never had someone not speak to me. She hardly uttered a syllable. Once mumbling if I wanted two meters, and finally forcing out a barely audible "here you are dear." which at that point I could hardly give a fuck to hear it.
So, you don't like my clothing. Did you want me to get naked? Would that somehow make you feel more comfortable? I was nothing but cordial and I expected to receive politeness in return.
If it wasn't for Dr. McHotStuff giving me about a year's worth of daydreaming material, I might have lost my shit completely.
I know we've all experienced this. I do my best to never give in to my bitchy side but some days I feel that beast within me just itching to get out. I swallow it, collect myself and put on a smile because that's what we need to do. There are twice as many assholes in this world and that means we have to work twice as hard to make up for their bullshit. So put on a smile, wave and open doors for people, because you're the better person.