It’s drier than normal here these days.
You know, static in my clothes, super dry skin, fuzzy hair, tiny blue shocks when you give kisses, that sort of thing.
So when I’m walking briskly through the grocery store, children tackling each other in the aisles behind me, I just pretend I don’t know them in an effort to avoid swearing in public. I’m on a mission – Operation Chapstick.
Just as I gave my best ‘I don’t know them’ face to an employee walking by, I notice that his initial warm smile turned to a bit of a puzzled expression as his attention shifted downward. I follow his gaze to see that my sensible, ankle-length, poly-blend skirt has shimmied it’s way up into an asymmetrical heap of fabric lumped with static on my left hip and thigh, exposing what can only be referred to as equally sensible longjohns.
Graciously, I tried my best to smile and give a carefree laugh, fitfully pulling at the poly-longjohn love affair that was currently locked in a PDA on my hip.
Sparks flew from my general butt area as I fought with the fabric. Not knowing what to do, the young man in the green apron fumbled and considered helping, awkward arms hesitantly reaching out and then withdrawing in horror.
I smiled a big, ‘It’s totally ok!!!! I’m totally happy with this embarrassing situation!!!!’ smile, which would likely have gone over well with the employee had my mouth not been devoid of any moisture whatsoever, so instead of a grin, I basically gave him my best maniacal laugh as my lips curled threateningly around my front teeth and then just kind of stuck there in my wintery desert of gum area.
That poor young man will never forget the day he crossed paths with me.
My body does NOT know how to winter.