Her Problem, Not Mine

I'm larger than average, and have hair that impersonates Shirley Temple without my assistance.

All the time I get judged.

People looking down on me for my size.  Oh the filthy looks I get when I'm eating candy or other sweets!

One day I was just walking downtown.  I was toting a shopping bag, (as well as my ever-present backpack) and hustling to catch a bus.  A swarm of teenagers swirled around me; I ignored them.

A bit farther on, a woman stepped beside me to wait for the light to change.  "You're welcome," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"I just told those little ones off for you.  You're welcome!"

Fortunately the light changing saved me from saying anything.  But inside, I was seriously confused!  I wonder what those teens said that so offended the woman.  I wonder if it occurred to her that by telling me what she did, she was introducing a kernel of doubt to my self-confidence.

Clearly, judgments had been passed.  Clearly I was found lacking.  Just as clearly, this woman (apparently) thought that I would appreciate knowing her "good deed".

But really, I didn't care.  I felt good that day.  So it was *cough* not my best in terms of wardrobe.  So I have flaws. 

I was making tracks down the street, feeling good that I know my new hometown well enough to walk all over downtown.  I had ingredients for supper, and had got a good deal on them.  It was a gorgeous sunny day, and the wind felt good in my hair.

For a moment, I doubted.

But no.

If that woman felt better about herself because she reprimanded a pack of squirrley teens, so be it.  I'm glad she got a self-confidence boost.

But frankly, it's their problem, not mine.
Plaid Plaid
31-35, F
May 8, 2012