Okay... yes it's been a long time since I've posted. Yes, I know... there are sooooo many people that have missed me ;). And YES... this post is a blatant attempt to getting out of cleaning my house after a very fun baby shower for a very cute girl. ..but yes I do have a small amount of inspiration probing at me to receed to my own little corner of the blogosphere and write.I have a little connundrum (yes... I have been looking for an excuse to use this word in an actual sentence... and yes run on sentences that are about nothing but wanting to use a particular word count as a sentence) (as do sentences containing several sets of parenthesis). (should I end that with a period? hmmm)
Anyway... I consider myself a pretty good friend, or at least I try to be... that is if your "good friend criteria" is someone that will tell you to XYZ & won't let you go out in public with a boogie hanging out of your nose. If your outfit looks really ridiculous I may say something, but you should probably disreguard any fashion advice I give because my husband dresses me. I tend to be kind of a flake sometimes (working on that), I go through weird shy periods when I don't have much to say and then obnoxious periods when I have TOO much to say, and I may or may not remember your birthday (I can barely remember my own and I've had the same one for almost 29 years now...) The point is I mean well and I really do try to treat people the way I would want to be treated. If I have a glob of unidentified goo hanging on to one of my teeth PLEASE tell me so I don't walk around looking ridiculous.
That said, here is the conundrum (that's twice in one post, double points!)
So I went to Walmart the other day to pick up some prints. As I am standing in line playing with Miss Thang, I look up and am greeted by the exposed (although underwear bound) derriere of the woman standing in front of me. "Hello" it says, "Please stare at me. Good luck holding in your fits of loud, immature, innappropriate laugher as you stare at me. Please don't tell my owner I am here... I am so enjoying the view.. It gets so stuffy stuck inside these old 1980's "Hammer style" slick pants."
Yes, her pants were unfortunately completely split up the back... were talking top to bottom. Hanging wide open.
Okay, so my first reaction is to tap this sweet woman on the shoulder and inform her that her rear end is not only exposed to the viewing 'pleasure' of all of Wallyworld, but that it is in fact, talking to me. But I wisely decided that I do not have time to fit a trip to the looney bin into my already hectic schedule. But here's my other conundrum... it is one thing to tell someone they have something in their teeth, or that their fly is open. That is something that can be immediately fixed. PLEASE tell someone when they are unknowingly being vexed with a problem such as these so they can avoid further humiliation. BUT (hehehe... no pun intended.. told you I'm immature) should I decide to tell this lady that her bottom is breaking free of captivity what can she do about it? The photo center of our friendly neighborhood Walmart is conveniently located at the very back of the store. There is no quick way out. There is no empty aisle to sneak down to avoid exposed cheek detection. And there is no way to hold your head high as you tramp out of the such a busy store with a split down the entire backside of your pants.
This lady is going to be humiliated eventually no matter what.
SO... do I tell her now and and create a walk of shame for her out to her car? Or do I let her enjoy the rest of her shopping trip in ignorant bliss only to be horrified once she gets home?
Either way she is going to mortified later, but there is nothing you can do about it at the store, so why drag out the torture right?
Yes... sadly that last question was posed as a pathetic attempt to soothe my troubled soul about the decision I made. I said nothing at all.
And as much as I would like to argue that I felt like it was the right thing to do... in all honesty I didn't say anything because I didn't have the guts to do it. I didn't have the guts to watch a womans eyes pop out in horror and begin her walk of shame through the gallows of Walmart.
Instead I watched her bebop away carefree as ever and continue the rest of her shopping trip as an old woman standing next to me made eye contact with me and made a wincing, "Oooh.. that's so sad face".
Judge away.
But what would you do? Be honest.
"Ummm... your kid just ate playground dirt that may or may not be infested with some nasty flesh eating bacteria..."
Once Little Mister rested and gathered a little strength he was fine and made it the rest of the ride home. This time instead of looking ahead and how far we still had to go we pointed out all the cool stuff along the way: a dog barking in the distance, a big rock in the middle of the sidewalk and a great big juicy bug hanging out on a leaf. Time flew by much faster this way.
