Few things about me have changed over the course of my adult life. I've always been tall, I've always had red hair and blue eyes, and ample breasts. I've always disliked the disproportionate amount of real estate between my top lip and the bottom of my nose (it makes an odd shadow in photos if I'm not lit well), and I've always wished I had some color to my eyebrows and eyelashes. And, I've always been lazy.
My body was saved from the effects of that laziness by sports in High School. I played both Volleyball and Basketball, which kept me in good enough shape to breakfast every morning at the Circle-K with my friend Danielle on chocolate milk (Hershey's, of course) and most often a doughnut - glazed, old fashioned. Of course, that was when I had a metabolism.
I'd say that the years have not been kind to me, but I really have no one to blame but myself. I never lost the amazing amount of weight I gained with Madison in the 2 years before I got pregnant with Kierstin, and since then I've added to the number significantly. I've completely stopped doing anything that involves raising my pulse rate above it's normal "resting" rate, which is nearing triple-digits, I'm sure. My point is this: Things in Debville are not pretty - not even remotely.
I mention all of these things because, despite the sad state of my body, something very strange happened yesterday. I got hit on by a total stranger, and it's confusing me something awful.
It started yesterday morning when I was at the drive-through at Taco Bell for breakfast. God, that looks pathetic - that sentence. I truthfully never eat Taco Bell for breakfast, but I was totally late for work, and it was the only thing in my path. Anyway... as I'm sitting there, looking in the window, there was a guy standing at the counter waiting for his food, wearing a hard-hat. He looked at me, and I smiled - nothing special, just the same smile I give everyone who I make accidental eye-contact with. I looked the other way. When I looked back, he was looking at me still. My first thought was "what's on my face", and I had to stifle the urge to check in the rear view mirror. Out of curiosity, I looked again - still looking at me and smiling. Odd. As he left, he crossed in front of my car, and smiled at me the whole time, then kept looking back at me. I know because I was watching in the side mirror. Shut up. Totally strange, as he was probably not more than about 25, and I'm old and fat. Whatever - there's no accounting for taste. Moving on.
Later that evening I went to a place called Granite City Food & Brewery for dinner. I ordered my favorite salad to go (Honey Rosemary Tenderloin and Focaccia - no tomatoes or onions) and proceeded out to the car to wait (Harry Potter audio book that I can't hardly tear myself away from). About 10 minutes later, I went inside to wait for my dinner. I sat on a bench, and noticed 3 men hanging out waiting to be taken to their table. Two of them had the same shirt on - something about road support on the back, Property of Boston - the band emblem - on the front. The third was wearing jeans and a button-up shirt. I looked at him, and he was looking at me, smiling. I smiled back, then turned my head to see the score of the Baseball game. I had the feeling that he was still looking at me, so I looked, and I was right. I smiled at him again. The hostess then started walking them to their table - in the direction of the TV I was looking at - and he turned around and smiled at me and gave me the eyebrows. I smiled, because that's just silly, and he kept staring at me until he went around the corner. Whatever.
At that point, my salad arrived, and I took it and went out to get in the car. As I was crossing to my car, I heard someone say "Where are you going?" I turned around, and it was the jeans and button up guy. I laughed, and told him I was going to have dinner. He told me I was welcome to join him and his friends, so I lied and said I had to go back to work. At that point he crossed the parking lane, and I got a little nervous. (He was only probably about 5'5" - maybe less - and kind of stocky, but I decided I could kick him in the nuts if things looked to go south). He was very nice, didn't try to touch me or anything, but it was just STRANGE. He told me I was a "very pretty lady" - I thanked him and told him that I was also a very married lady. "DANG! Oh, well." I told him to have a nice evening, and he started to cross back to the restaurant, when he stopped and asked me where I work. I lied again, and he went inside. Ummmm... ok.
This is not, I repeat, NOT, a normal occurrence in my life. When I was younger and much thinner, it happened every once in a while, but not every day or anything. It probably should have made my day, but it left me scratching my head more than anything. I mean, I had day-old hair and my glasses on. I was dressed for work in slacks and a white shirt - nothing revealing or sexy. I have no idea what it was all about. I'm still confused.
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