This past weekend, while out and about running my errands, I met a very pleasant fellow mom as we waited in an endless grocery store express checkout.
(Truthfully, I noticed that she was totally breaking the “10 items or Less” rule, but I decided to turn a blind eye.)
However, in turning a blind eye to her grocery offense, I zoomed in on another offensive predator. YES, I am calling it a predator because I swear this thing had stalking abilities. And even though I inwardly cringed and outwardly took a small step back, I didn’t have the guts to say a word.
Wondering what the heck I’m referring to? Allow me to acquaint y’all with a post I wrote back in September 2009. I’ve decided to republish it because my attitude on the matter clearly hasn’t changed a bit. And, brownie points if you remember reading the post the first time around. Congratulations, we’re both 4 years older. Ugh. Read on…
You’re speaking to a colleague, acquaintance, or someone you’ve just met. The conversation may begin with a simple “Hello!” or “Did you catch MasterChef last night?” – or perhaps you’re already deeply invested in a comfortable, amicable chat. And that’s when IT happens.
You notice an astronomically gigantic booger hang gliding from the person’s nostril.
Now I’ll be the first one to tell people “Let me know! Don’t leave me looking like an idiot… it’s MORE embarrassing if you let me walk around with a mucous bomb on display!”
And you know what? That’s truly the way I feel. I WANT to know if I’ve got unruly hair, broccoli in my teeth, snot on my face, runaway eyeliner, a shiny nose… in essence, if I in any way fall short of perfection, you’d better speak now and for-NEVER hold your peace.
Don’t you agree? Yes? Yeeesss? Sure you do.
Then why do I stop and stare like a deer in headlights when I am confronted by a rebel booger? I immediately tune out of the conversation, mesmerized by this new discovery. I begin to strategize exactly how I will tell the person of their unwanted foe. Should I say, “Excuse me miss, you’ve got a little situation in your nose?” Do I discreetly hand over a tissue? Or do I point to my own nose, make a small wiping motion, and nod curtly while my eyes silently communicate “WIPE THAT GREEN SHIZ OUT OF THERE!”
Of course, the most simple solution would be to lean over and whisper “You may want to give your nose a little wipe” and then, if available, offer a tissue. Simple… yet ridiculously difficult for me to execute. I’m a hypocrite….