Let me set the scene:
I’m at Wal-Mart standing in the checkout lane waiting for a Mexican midget* to pay for his fishing lures (seriously – I can’t make this stuff up!). I’m nonchalantly leaning on the cart, clad in knit Capri pants and an oversized t-shirt. Now I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t look my best. It was hot and I had hastily pulled my hair back in a messy ponytail. I’m not exactly what you’d call “skinny” or “of a healthy weight” either but I’m no cow, and if I died tomorrow it would not require the use of a crane to lift me out of my house, nor would I have to be buried in a grand piano crate.
Anyway, at one point I happened to turn my head to the side and witnessed a kid about 15 or 16 two aisles over who was aiming his cell phone camera in my direction – actually , right at me. Upon my turning towards him he embarrassedly flipped his phone shut and put it in his pocket.
I checked behind me in the line of his aim and determined that I had to have been his intended target. My internal sense of self loathing caused my heart to race and my palms to sweat. Would I be the next entry on People of Wal Mart? It seemed unlikely. After all, none of my excessive folds of flesh were hanging out, my butt crack was not exposed, I was not wearing leopard, zebra, or giraffe print, no cleavage was visible and I was not accompanied by a pimp.
I turned to my husband who at that time just walked up to me, told him the particulars of this kid’s behavior and said, “Do you think he was taking a picture of me?”
And do you know what he said? Well, just for fun, let’s first go over what SHOULD have happened. He should have scoffed, put his arm around me and said, “Of course not. Why would he? Unless of course he wanted a picture of the pertiest girl in the store!” (for some reason he should have turned into a redneck - a redneck with a heart of gold, but still – maybe because we WERE in a Wal-Mart).
At the very least he could have said, “Nah, he was probably aiming for the Mexican midget in front of us.”
But that’s not what he said. Instead he shrugged and said,”Probably” and then engrossed himself in the checkout lane magazine rack. The ONLY good thing I can say in his defense is that he did send the kid a couple menacing glares. But still “Probably?, PROBABLY! Probably?”
Sure he couldn’t have been aware of “the crazy” going through my head at that point, but what other reason does anyone take a picture of a stranger with their cell phone than to ridicule it? How could my husband think this wouldn’t damage me irreparably on a mental and emotional level? “Probably!?”
Will he be catching hell for this for the rest of his life? PROBABLY
(* In no way or form do I intend any disrespect to “little people” in this post. I use the term “midget” which I believe is no longer politically correct, but I’m too big of a fan of alliteration, and “Mexcican little person” (or would it be “little Mexican person”?) just isn’t as much fun as “Mexican Midget”. Oh and I mean no disrespect to Mexicans either, or to people who like to fish, with lures, or with midgets, or just with Mexicans in general . . . I don’t know that I’m making this any better, perhaps I should stop now.)