A 5-minute Slice of the Awkward Overthinker: The Taxing Internal Dialog; Through the Most Basic Interactions
Pulls into parking lot,
Adjust mirror to check face,
Realizing, I again forgot to do so BEFORE leaving the house… at ANY point this morning.
No boogers, but a flake of skin that LOOKS like a booger…
Must. Remove. Darting eyes. Oh Lord, whose watching?
Was that perfect cute little 20-year-old girl watching me? Great, Now she thinks I am picking my nose.
Smile awkwardly, trying to think of clever words to throw in case needed. She is looking beyond me… I mean duh. Shit, of course she is walking in at the same time as me…
Me, in the same “dress” pants I wear at least once per week from H & M mind you… with the beltloop that came unthreaded, not held by a bobbi pen… Looking nice and frumpy, rockin’ my upper 30s, lookin’ like I have lived life as hard as Mick effing Jagger.
Dang. This little heifer wouldn’t even know who he is.
ALLL the Self-awareness kicking in…
Ugh, I didn’t shave… not to mention done my hair… in… God… two years? Shit. Did I forget to put on deodorant? (Sniffs armpits, attempting to look like wiping nose, I mean hell she already thinks I am a public nose picker.) Okay, shew. Fresh scent of natural, aluminum-free coconut-based deodorant… I will smell like onions in an hour. Bet she didn’t forget to shave.
Okay, stalled enough to not walk in awkwardly at the same time as perfect girl. Getting out, slam car door a little too hard. Birds scatter in response to the jolting sound.
Okay, use hand or wrap shirt around hand to open the door…? Oh, use elbow to push automatic opener.
Oh, elderly ladies walking out. Do I wait? Let them out first, yes. But they’re behind the other set of doors still. Wait. Oh my god. I think they want me to go. I will look like an ass hole…
Okay, go in and make sure I press the automatic button again
and again
and oh my gosh again, because what if the other set of doors close on them as they creep along at their gradual rate.
Smile. Loudly chant “GOOD MORNING!” As if I have just made their day or something.
Oh. There is perfect girl. Of course, she’s in the same suite as me. Guess all vagi-nuh need gy-nuhs.
Chuckle to myself, amused with my little rhyme, while she completes her check-in, as I walk up behind her at a safe distance to wait in line,
still with the dumb smile on my face, she turns to face me.
Insert self for no reason, no reason except to fill a silence that needs not be filled, and would not otherwise have even been awkward, stating, “Yayyy, everyone’s favorite appointment!”
Oh Gawd, why do I insist on talking. She looks at me, I swear I see pity in her eyeballs…
Forces a grin, steps around me, because my dumbass steps to the right instead of left, and she takes a seat. Like a normal human.
Now it’s my turn, I have already fumbled around in my purse repeatedly for “the cards”… and I rehearse in my head, my doctor’s name, my name, my appointment time, and date of birth… All information I have had memorized for, ya know, most of my life.
Instead, I walk up to the counter and… drop my insurance card on the ground.
When leaning down to pick up the card, naturally my glasses slide off my face and onto the ground.
I wonder what my ass looks like as I bend over, panty lines?, and if perfect girl is assessing how inept this 36 year old divorcee is.
Make a joke. “Well, guess I needed that second cup of coffee, huh?” Desk girl is amused. She actually chuckled. Aw, she looks frazzled too, and replies, “Gosh, you and me both.”
Sighhh. Success. Moment done.
Now, don’t sit near perfect girl.
5 thoughts on "A 5-minute Slice of the Awkward Overthinker: The Taxing Internal Dialog; Through the Most Basic Interactions"
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Great stream of consciousness. Some days it ready does help to get it written down.
Feels.
HA
Great writing
that (im)perfect moment
with perfect detail
Loved this, it just rolls right along carrying the reader with it.
I applaud you writing about a moment of vulnerability. And really showing how being a woman today is about being in competition. I think men don’t often recognize this very real aspect of the female experience. It’s weirdly a shame because women know how manufactured this is and yet are forced to participate in it none the less.
I appreciate the way you take it up. We should all be so vulnerable. Good job. Keep it up!