My week as a working mom went pretty well. I had to pull children out of only a couple of things, thanks to the kindness of friends.
I spent a lot of time hanging out in a drugstore. In Hollywood. Far from being glamorous, Hollywood is gritty and trashy. If you want to see "stars" out here (never my desire), you go to Santa Monica or Brentwood or Malibu or Beverly Hills. In Hollywood, there are young and oftentimes troubled people. I saw meth-heads, clubgoers and guys with tattoos all over their faces. Mixed in with families and kids.
1) Standing all day has firmed my legs nearly as much as running regularly does.
2) Walking around the store, I got to inspect all the candy. This will sound weird to anyone who hasn't given up sugar, wheat and flour, but I sort of enjoy it in a vicarious way. I would say almost voyeuristic way, but I got accused of being "creepy" once for using that word by a goofy guy friend. To avoid any however unwarranted perception of creepiness, "vicarious" will do.
Anyway, I like looking at the candy and thinking about what my favorites are. It's odd, but I'm not really tempted. I know what I like, but I don't really want it.
But I brought some new candies home that looked good for the kids to try. So I could eat vicariously.
3) And, oh, you know I couldn't hang out all day at a store without hearing some terrible lines. Once again, I'm not saying I'm "all that." It's just what women go through in our culture. Men are so easily stimulated that it doesn't take much.
So, I'm reading a magazine and some guy about my age comes up to me and tells me he could move the milk in his basket.
I'm confused by this.
So he clarifies, "I could make room for you in the basket if I moved the milk."
And, then, "Do they have coupons that are good for you?"
In the same way some Southern women say, "Bless your heart" (and don't really mean any blessings by it), this native New Englander says, "Oh, aren't you sweet." Without a smile.
This guy surprised me enough and was cute enough (surprisingly, since he was pulling out those lines) that he made me blush, though, and I thought I had gotten better at not flushing. But I have to blame my stupid complexion as well as my now-mild social anxiety for a lot of that.
I was never good at handling that kind of thing when I was young and it happened more often. It would shock me then -- I was much more insecure and less knowing about the silly ways of men. Now, I'm sometimes surprised enough to blush, but not shocked -- and I don't take it particularly seriously.
But it's always a good, "can-you-believe-this-one?" story.
16 hours ago