Mama Says … What are you staring at?

 

I-SEE-YOU

I know I have probably done my share of staring, which is, of course, rude. I do know that I haven’t gotten in someone’s face and scrutinized them or tried to touch them. Let me share with you about a couple of incidents that happened to me at work.

I inherited some pretty bad genes, you know, the ones for obesity, short height, and hair loss. I get self conscious when somebody taller than me is near, because they get a bird’s eye view of my scalp as there is not enough hair to cover it.

Aside from those glaring genetic problems, I was blessed with really nice skin. I don’t even use make-up (which may account for why I am still single!). So what if there is a huge Hungarian proboscis sticking out of that nice skin? I guess I can’t have everything. But I can happily say that my nice complexion makes me look younger than my calendar age, by a fair amount. So I have that going for me. J

Once in a while I do get a dreaded zit. I don’t like pimples and when I get the rare one I will attack it with a vengeance. A few weeks ago some unkind zit popped up on my chin, and I was determined to wipe it off the landscape of my face. Sometimes I am a bit over zealous and so I left a noticeable red lump without getting the core. I was going about my work duties when one of the guys came up to me and began to stare at my face. Well, not exactly at my face. More like at the big red zit. He kept getting closer and closer to me. Then he reached up his hand and went to point at the zit or try to touch it. At that point I leaned backward because he had definitely invaded my personal space. I put up my hand and asked him what he thought he was doing and he replied by saying he wanted to know why I had a pimple, now get this, “at my age?” He also asked me if I wasn’t too old to be getting zits. Excuse me! I told him that even at my age a pimple would once in a while invade my personal face. He tried to laugh off the situation by saying I must be a teenager if I get pimples. It took a lot of self-control not to grab the clipboard out of his hand and beat him about the head and shoulders with it or ask him when he last plucked his ear and nose hairs. The nerve of some people.

Then just a week or so ago, I hatched a red lump by my eyebrow. I tried to exterminate that pimple with any method I could think of. I guess I am like Bill Murray in “Caddy Shack” who was just as determined to get those gophers who were tunneling under the golf course as I am to kill a pimple. Despite my ardent attempts to kill the beast, I again left more evidence of a pimple than I started with. I was standing in the administration office speaking to someone when one of the secretaries walked up to me and noticing my zit asked me if I had been scratched. Huh? She pointed to my eyebrow.  I was not going to give her an answer and kept talking business. Well, she wanted to investigate the area and got very close, lifted up her bifocals, stared, and came to the conclusion that I had indeed been scratched. She put her glasses back in their regular spot on her face and stood there. Hello, McFly? Did you really just do that? Gee whiz!

Holy cow! All I can say in these folks’ favor is that my skin usually has no issues, and seeing a zit on my face was such an anomaly that they had to stare at it, try to touch it, and then comment on it. Be that as it may, they were astonishingly rude.

Let me say it here and now. Stay out of my personal space! My zits are none of your business. Please keep your comments to yourself, unless of course, I have a big boogar hanging out of my nose or I forgot to button my pants. But be merciful about it, and take me aside privately to inform me of my faux pas instead of letting a whole room full of people know about it. For goodness sake!

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