And thus began another war...
So, Matas (the "Boot's" of Denmark) has found an untapped resource in the full-service beauty parlor. (I know, how did that take so long? But apparently, Denmark would be the last country to catch on.) I'm not exactly complaining, because my business got some good work from opening up all those parlors.
However. In my mall, there's one right next to the bookstore, where I will inadvertently end up, no matter what I set out for. And, today, there was a recruiter standing outside, looking perfect, natch. And I honestly don't know why I'm still thinking about this, because the poor woman was set with an impossible set of choices...
While I was stalking past her, thinking, "do NOT talk to me!" I managed to have time for feeling offended that she didn't even try. I saw that she saw me. And I saw that she chose NOT to interact with me. And I didn't want her to try. I felt extremely strongly about not being put on the spot about my appearance. But I was still mad at her for not trying, because clearly, here is an overweight mess with no makeup, messy hair, an ill-fitting bra, and a scowl: if anyone needed help it was clearly me! And at the same time, I have to admire her survival instincts, because if she had approached me, I would have told her exactly where to shove her obsession with perfection, and how dare she imply that I am not?! How ridiculously fucked up is that?!
So, kudos to you, Perfect Woman, for being surprisingly good at reading people. I'm pretty sure we both had a better day for it. And I'll take your perfectly played non-interaction into consideration, and maybe one day I'll ask you about masking my raccoon eyes.
This isn't over, Perfect Woman. Not by a long-shot...
:p
However. In my mall, there's one right next to the bookstore, where I will inadvertently end up, no matter what I set out for. And, today, there was a recruiter standing outside, looking perfect, natch. And I honestly don't know why I'm still thinking about this, because the poor woman was set with an impossible set of choices...
While I was stalking past her, thinking, "do NOT talk to me!" I managed to have time for feeling offended that she didn't even try. I saw that she saw me. And I saw that she chose NOT to interact with me. And I didn't want her to try. I felt extremely strongly about not being put on the spot about my appearance. But I was still mad at her for not trying, because clearly, here is an overweight mess with no makeup, messy hair, an ill-fitting bra, and a scowl: if anyone needed help it was clearly me! And at the same time, I have to admire her survival instincts, because if she had approached me, I would have told her exactly where to shove her obsession with perfection, and how dare she imply that I am not?! How ridiculously fucked up is that?!
So, kudos to you, Perfect Woman, for being surprisingly good at reading people. I'm pretty sure we both had a better day for it. And I'll take your perfectly played non-interaction into consideration, and maybe one day I'll ask you about masking my raccoon eyes.
This isn't over, Perfect Woman. Not by a long-shot...
:p