In which I decide to start showering regularly
April 21, 2008 | Filed under: Oh The Stupidity You'll See, Socially Awkward Barbie™
“Let us be grateful to the mirror for revealing to us our appearance only.” ~Samuel Butler
The theme for last week was ‘Arduous’ though ‘shit in a can’ seems much more accurate. Details will come later but given the laborious tenor of two weeks worth of travel and having my heart punted into the Potomac, by Saturday I was beyond spent and decided that showering and getting dressed would require a minor act of God. Since it is both illegal to get on a plane naked not to mention the thought of flesh eating disease, I decided to rock the jeans and tee with flip flops look. With my hair in desperate need of deep conditioner hidden behind a headband. If there were ever a time to question why I am single, look no further than the haggard look I was sporting on Saturday afternoon. I then boarded a tiny plane from DC to Albany next to a very large and sweaty man. I went from one rather balmy climate to another. By the time I arrived to Albany, I was a hot, sweaty mess with dry hair and in desperate need of a manicure.
The awesome part about the above is that I am hardly exaggerating and yet I found myself driving home with the sunroof open thinking that I should stop at the mall. Purchase myself some cute summer wear and by ‘cute summer wear’ I mean something that makes my bloated ass look less like a sausage stuffed haphazardly in its casing. I clearly remember giving ‘Let’s go to the mall!’ a second thought but then thought that maybe I wouldn’t see anyone at the mall because it was a gorgeous day in Upstate NY and when it’s gorgeous in Upstate NY people run around naked on golf courses. They don’t go to the mall.
“I won’t see anyone” would be my famous last words because there is a reason for why people refer to Albany as ‘Smallbany’, because it’s easy to walk out of the front door and see your high school Organic Chemistry teacher, your former pediatrician, the nurse who delivered you and some woman who used to date your father. And if you think I am being hyperbolic, I cannot tell you how many times I’ve ducked behind grocery carts to keep away from my first grade teacher.
I am at the top of the escalator looking down when I see a woman I haven’t seen in seven years looking up at me. I briefly think that she didn’t see me and then I contemplate hiding but it’s an escalator so running back up would probably force someone to notice me more than coming down peacefully. I put my face down and look casually off to the side when she catches my eye. I stand up straight, suck my stomach in and wave back. She was a good friend from high school and so we hug and she tells me I look great and I say “Ha. I just got off of a plane. I NEVER dress like this”.
“Well you look great” she replies.
“I NEVER look like this. I’m all hot and sweaty and did I mention that I just got off a plane? Because I literally just got off a plane like 25 minutes”
We exchanged updates on each other’s lives and pleasantries and she told me that I really did look great while I kept interjecting that I just got off a plane and I’m surprised she didn’t backhand me because I’m sure she got it that I just got off a damn plane. We depart and I wonder if I actually do look decent even though I’ve yet to see a mirror.
I go upstairs to do my normal Banana Republic, JCRew back to Banana Republic dance of credit card suckage. On my round of JCrew I go towards the back to look at dresses, including a dress I keep trying on and fondling the eyelets even though I have yet to actually make the purchase. I’m standing by the dresses and barely notice two girls standing in front of me. That is until one stops mid-conversation with the other and stares at me. This is when I have to quell my urge to be blatantly rude. I look at her trying to see if I can place her and going through my mental rolodex of people I know and for the life of me, I cannot figure it out. I can feel the “What the fuck are you staring at?” right at the tip of my tongue and it’s then that she says “HEATHER?!”
“Uh yeah”
“I’m JEN!”
JEN! And then I have to keep from diving under the dresses and pretending like she can’t see me because I’m all hot and sweaty and gross and I DIDN’T SHOWER. Yet no invisibility cloak arrives to save me because ha! There’s Jen! Jen who reads my blog! Here is where I prove how absurdly small Albany is: Jen found me on someone else’s blogroll and commented that we must live like right near each other because there are like 24 people in this city. So I clicked over to her blog and realized that I did ‘know’ Jen in that I wrote about her nephew in November and her sister and I work on the same floor.
So ha! There’s Jen! Right in front of my face laughing at how crazy it is that she has found me in J. Crew and I’m all “I just got off a plane” and awkward and OH MY HELL, I JUST GOT OFF A PLANE AND I DIDN’T SHOWER. I’m pretending not to be wildly uncomfortable because I’m all gross and crazy haired and all I can think is she is going to remember this very moment, the first time she met me in the mall and I looked as if instead of sitting inside the plane, I just strapped myself to a wing and hoped for the best. She goes to pay for her flip flops and I stand looking at some chinos with my heart racing because on top of all of the other grossness, I remembered that I had Cajun fries from Five Guys for lunch, you know, ON THE PLANE and so I probably smelled like Cajun fries.
I swear this gets better every other second.
I told my mother, who happens to work in the same department as Jen’s sister (this place is so small that it suffocates), what had happened she asks how Jen knew I was Heather and I said “uh, from my picture” and she is all shocked and shit that people might actually know what I look like from a photo on my blog. She thinks it’s creepy to say the least and I have to bite my tongue to keep from telling her that’s nothing compared to the number of times I’ve discussed my boobs on this site. For wouldn’t she be a little upset to know that not only do several thousand people know my cup size but they now also know that her only daughter sometimes hates to shower and walks around town like an unkempt woman who got run over by a USAir puddle jumper.
whoorl says:
BWAHAHAAAAA. I’m sorry.
Angella says:
Ditto to Whoorl.
These situations have happened to me before as well. This is why I *never* leave the house unless I am fully clothed and wearing make-up. I live in a town of 11,000 people, and from what I understand, many people who live here read me. Awesome.
She Likes Purple says:
I rarely leave the house with makeup, so it’s a good thing I’m not nearly as famous as you are.
Lissa says:
Oh I feel your pain. Whenever I feel like I look fabulous I never see anyone I know. Whenever I look like hot mess I run into everyone and their mother.
Jen says:
1. Seriously dude, you did not look at all like a hot mess. Jeans, t-shirt, and flip-flops are practically a UNIFORM for me (hence my outfit on Saturday) so I did not give a second thought to what you were wearing!
2. I apologize for my weird stalker outburst of “Heather?!?!” I am a freak who clearly cannot handle myself in public situations. The combination of blog world and the mall was apparently a bit too much for me and my manners went out the door, as well as my ability to relay any coherent thought. Example: “We’re just picking up our summer flip flops here!” OKAY JEN. Wicked cool.
3. You did not smell at ALL like Cajun Fries. Mmmm, Five Guys.
Moose says:
Cajun fries? You smelled like Cajun fries? I want to smell like Cajun fries. I wonder if Sephora carries that scent in a purse-size atomizer.
Kristabella says:
I just have visions of you running up a down escalator and I can’t stop giggling.
180/360 says:
Back home, you can’t go anywhere without running into someone you know. Here in Vegas, I’ve gone years without seeing anyone familiar. It’s actually very strange. This place isn’t THAT big.
Momo Fali says:
Every time I wear shorts (which is very rare, even when I run four miles and it’s 95 degress with sweltering humidity…yeah, I’d like to thank my maternal genes for hitting me up with some sweet spider veins), my daughter will remind me to put pants on before I go out, because I’m sure to run into someone I know.
Loralee says:
I bet you looked hot and earthy.
And?
I run into people all the time looking like crap-o-la.
It’s awful. One time it was so bad (I was in leggings , ratty sweatshirt and left over CRIMPED HAIR from a photo shoot) that my friend pretended I was her “Special friend” when we went out to lunch.
Sigh.
slynnro says:
The perils of being famous.
Andrea says:
Heather, I work in Albany, maybe we’ll run into each other.
gorillabuns says:
I’m always wearing sweats sans make-up when I run into Susan at Target.
I can’t seem to catch a break in looking good during our chance encounters.
LisaB says:
It always happens that way. Every damn time!!! I look like something the cat dragged in and I see my long time frenemy. GRRRRR.
Allie says:
Yeah, it is for this reason (the fact that I live in Small World, USA) that I should stop going grocery shopping right after I go to the gym. But for some reason, I just never learn. I’m jealous though because you see nice people from the past. I tend to get only the beotches.
Aimee Greeblemonkey says:
This why it’s nice to live in a semi-big city. Becasue I look like garbage all the time.