The Beautiful (Bandaged) People

So, lastnight, around 3 a.m., I felt someone watching me. I looked up and was startled and relieved at the same time. It was my 3-year-old.

"What ... do you want?" I was rather annoyed because, yeah, don't stand over me at 3 a.m while I am sleeping. I don't care who you are.

"I want mommy," he said and watched to see if he was getting the green light. At 3 years old, he knows how to manipulate the situation. "Awwww," I thought. And with that, he jumped in bed and curled up beside me beneath my huge down comforter.

With my 3-year-old., Mr. E, on one side and hubby on the other, I drifted back to sleep, feeling very safe and very loved. About an hour later, Mr. E is tossing and turning. There are toes in my face and at one point, he turned around and ... scraaaaaaaape.

Right across my face. He got me good. And I mean, he drew blood.

The next morning, I swore I'd never let Mr. E back in bed with me again as I stood before the mirror in horror. There was a bright red gash on my left cheek. It looked pretty bad but it felt worse. I could feel the pounding and pulsing of the small, dime-sized wound.

"Oh, perfect!" I yelled to hubby. "Look! Look at my face. What am I supposed to do? I can't put makeup over this. It will get all ... icky."

And so, I put my makeup on--around the small child-inflicted wound. And then I put some neosporin on it and thought "Ewww. I wouldn't want to look at me."

Feeling a little bad for my co-workers, I pulled out a pair of scissors and a regular-sized band-aid and I cut out an ever-so-out tiny band-aid that fit right over the spot. (Nursing school was good for something, afterall).

I got to work and emailed my fave co-worker, C. "OMG. I am not coming out for the entire day. I have a band-aid on my face!" She tried to make me feel better, via email, and when she saw me, she laughed hysterically.

"You are insaaaaaane," she blurted out. "I can barely see that!"

Whatever. I could feel people looking at me, just wondering: "Hmmmm ... why does she have a smurf-sized band-aid on her face?" And it was you know, a different color than my skin and all. It was just ... awful. I felt like I was that awkward girl in high school.

I kept my head (purposefully) buried in my work all day--only coming out for lunch. And when I did, C and I headed to the mall where we sat with our packed lunches at a little table for two. We always sit at the same spot. It is away from the crowd of people at the food court and just outside of Starbucks.

We don't spend money on mall food, and we get to get away from work for a good hour. It works.

So, about five minutes into lunch, we noticed this one chic. She was working at a certain shoe store in the mall. It is actually one of my favorite spots. She looked bored as the first woman wandered in and looked at a few pairs of shoes.

"That seems mean," I said to C. "She didn't even look at her."

Ms. Shoe Girl She was staring at a computer, apparently. "She's probably on Facebook" I said, laughing.

But, then we sat and watched and noticed ... a trend.

A cute college girl walks in and she is all about her. "Hi, how are you?" The next shopper is an older woman, not very fashionable ... and she gets the snub. The girl says nothing and doesn't even acknowledge her.

Again and again and again ... it happened. And it was so blatant. We could look at the person walking in the store and if they seemed fashionable (or beautiful), she'd make small talk. And if they didn't quite fit the "beautiful people" profile, they'd be totally ignored. Totally snubbed.

It was so ... bizarre. I mean, I guess I expect it in South Beach or something. But, in Gainesville? Where did this "mean girl" come from and why is she in my mall? That's how I was feeling.

"Well, we've been talking about my ugly band-aid all.day.long. And now, here's the test," I said to C.

"What? What are you going to do?"

"I am going to find out if I make her list or not. Will the hideous band-aid keep me off the list? Will she say hello? Or will she snub ... us?"

"No, no, no," she said. "You are crazy. She's going to ... I don't know what she's going to do."

"Are you scared of her?" I replied. "Are you scared that she is going to make or break our confidence?" At this point, I was being over-the-top silly.

And so, as I finished the last bite of my homely little sandwich--definitely not a glamourous lunch, I picked up my purse and strutted right into the store ... with C reluctantly right by my side.

And you know what Ms. Shoe Girl did?

Well, I can't give it away. I'll let you choose the ending.

(Okay, maybe I'll tell you how the story ends ...next post.)