Airports make me feel out of place. No matter how much time I have spent there, I can’t really get used to them.
I feel like I am walking naked through a chocolate display. Everything looks neat and tidy, ready for consumption, if only it weren’t for me bending over to help myself to one of the tasty bites.
My carefully chosen outfit suddenly seems to wrap around my rear end like wet toiletpaper, the tired straps of my skin colored bra are showing and my carry-on looks like something not even the cat would bring home; I could use a tan, my hair is floppy, and my nose is a size 14; I spilled coffee over my trousers, my fingerprints are all over my glasses and most likely I forgot to peel off the sales labels off the bottom of my sandals. Shall I go on...?
As I look around me it’s clear that I am the only one. Everyone else seems effortlessly perfect. It’s like leafing through a magazine and hoping that extensive airbrushing was applied even to the smallest detail.
Toned thighs extending from seemingly haphazardly draped skirts, lazy hair flowing down well appointed tops matching eyecolor and shade. Cartier jewlery, Prada sunglasses and all sorts of the latest electronic paraphernalia make me feel distinctly uneasy. Why oh why can’t I...?
But then, I have a lovely personality.
2 comments:
Down South (U.S.), everyone walks around in 100-degree heat and no one sweats -- ever! People don't even glisten. Meanwhile, I'm schvitzing like a glass of sweet tea at high noon.
Look closer: the lady in Prada -- walking stereotype of conformity; the Cartier -- how her husband elegantly tells her he's a cheater; the gadgets -- distraction from what's actually important.
Perfection: SO overrated.
So true - thanks for checking in, bro! See you soon...
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