Yesterday was a very, very bad "Troll" day. I looked at myself in the mirror, saw every line, every wrinkle, every bulge. I saw all the hair I'd lost in one shampooing in the bottom of the tub and need some dental attention. My years old birthday is right around the corner, reminding me I'm getting old. I was feeling bad. I decided I just couldn't look anymore, nothing was changing from one glance to the next so what was the point really? Alright, on with my day. It was Monday, the day I regularly clean house for a friend. I didn't bother with eye make-up, didn't curl my hair, climbed into my "workin'" jeans, pulled on a "workin'" T-shirt and ran for the bus.
On the bus, deeply involved in a Janet Evanovich novel when a masculine voice squished akwardly into my space. I looked up, a nice young 25-ish African American man was talking to me. Two minutes into the conversation and I realized he was hitting on me. For reals? I did a mental scan of what I knew I looked like before I left the house, anything but attention worthy. And yet, here he was, engaged in anxious conversation. He was very sincere - I appreciated that, no cheesy come on lines, nice. So I talked with him to my stop. As I pulled the cord requesting my stop, he extended his hand, introduced himself as 'Shawn' and said he hoped to see me again. Wow. I was touched, slightly flattered and bewildered at the same time.
When I reached my friends house, I hurried into her bathroom to see if I'd turned into a Goddess since I last looked. Nope, still just dopey ol' me. Still it was nice to know someone found me appealing even in my "Troll" mode.
I thought this was kinda cool. My friend asked what was up. I told her about being a troll this morning and then about the young man on the bus. She chuckled. She said, "Know what I saw when I looked in the mirror this morning? For the first time in my life I saw an old woman looking back at me!" She's 85 years old! And she was serious about the 'first time in her life' part. As I cleaned, I thought about her and what she said. Her husband of 62 years passed away a few months ago. He held her hand daily, called her 'Sweetheart' and 'my Precious', opened doors for her - even when he was in his walker and cared for her till the moment he passed. I wondered if that was part of why she never saw an old woman - because when she was him, what was reflected back to her was a beautiful young Goddess. How much difference did that make to her self-image? The comic strip Baby Blues, July 31, 2011, suggests.
Hmmmm . . . . . . . pondering to be done.
On the bus, deeply involved in a Janet Evanovich novel when a masculine voice squished akwardly into my space. I looked up, a nice young 25-ish African American man was talking to me. Two minutes into the conversation and I realized he was hitting on me. For reals? I did a mental scan of what I knew I looked like before I left the house, anything but attention worthy. And yet, here he was, engaged in anxious conversation. He was very sincere - I appreciated that, no cheesy come on lines, nice. So I talked with him to my stop. As I pulled the cord requesting my stop, he extended his hand, introduced himself as 'Shawn' and said he hoped to see me again. Wow. I was touched, slightly flattered and bewildered at the same time.
When I reached my friends house, I hurried into her bathroom to see if I'd turned into a Goddess since I last looked. Nope, still just dopey ol' me. Still it was nice to know someone found me appealing even in my "Troll" mode.
I thought this was kinda cool. My friend asked what was up. I told her about being a troll this morning and then about the young man on the bus. She chuckled. She said, "Know what I saw when I looked in the mirror this morning? For the first time in my life I saw an old woman looking back at me!" She's 85 years old! And she was serious about the 'first time in her life' part. As I cleaned, I thought about her and what she said. Her husband of 62 years passed away a few months ago. He held her hand daily, called her 'Sweetheart' and 'my Precious', opened doors for her - even when he was in his walker and cared for her till the moment he passed. I wondered if that was part of why she never saw an old woman - because when she was him, what was reflected back to her was a beautiful young Goddess. How much difference did that make to her self-image? The comic strip Baby Blues, July 31, 2011, suggests.
Hmmmm . . . . . . . pondering to be done.