If I have broccoli in my teeth: please, just tell me.
If my tag is popping out of my shirt, please fix it for me.
If my slip is showing (yes, I wear slips...and Spanx--I should post on the wonders of Spanx), please tell me.
If my cleavage is showing, well, you can tell me, but I don't know if it will do any good since it comes two inches below my neck and has a mind of its own. But my six-year old is often telling me; she's got my back...or er, my front.
If I interrupt you, because often I do, please tell me. The only person who ever tells me is my mother, and she often does; so I assume I interrupt everybody else, too. I am terribly sorry if I've interrupted you; it's not because I don't want to hear what you have to say: it's because I can be quite rude and selfish, conversationally, anyway. It's something I'm working on changing.
And most importantly: if I have a coiled-up rubber band between my stockings and my leg, just above my ankle, and it looks like a worm: please tell me.
Yes. Two hours into church, I happen to look down as I'm crossing my legs and I notice this wormy-looking thing just above my cankle area. Two Hours!
I assume (because I'm self-absorbed) that somebody noticed. If you did, you know who you are: why didn't you tell me?
It could have gone something like this:
You: "Hey, Prone-Girl. You have something between the back of your leg and your stocking, just above your ankle. If it is a skin condition: what is it? If it is a rubber band, how did it get there?"
Me: "Oh, my! I'm so embarrassed; but also: that is so funny! Oh, dear (because in this made-up scenario, I say things like "oh, dear") I'd better excuse myself to the ladies' room to correct the situation. Thank you for telling me. I'm indebted to you. Can I bring you some homemade jam after church?"
You: "It was nothing telling you, really. And your jam? Yes, please! Your jam is the tastiest jam I've ever had in my life. If you were to have a company name for your jam, it could be Utopia because of the perfect balance and harmony it brings to my life."
Me: "Wow. I didn't know my jam is so life changing."
You: "It really is. You are incredible. ...But uh...we should probably stop talking about you, just for now, until you get that worm out of your stockings."
Me: "It's a rubber band."
You: "Sure."
7 comments:
Haha! I didn't notice the "worm" on Sunday. I love people who let me know when something isn't right. The other day, I had only half-rubbed in my sunblock when I got ditracted. So, for a few hours I was walking around with a chalky white face until my friend finally pointed it out to me. My Husband said he didn't notice- that's how observant he is.
I'll be sure to let you know if I see something out of place if you do the same for me.
You make jam?
Sweet. I love it! I would have told you! But we don't go to church together anymore! That is too funny, I am chuckling to myself because that is an experience that I would find in my day! And you have to wonder, how? What is that doing there? Seriously? I love it! Love it. Love it!
Very funny post! And about my correcting you for interrupting--I know that you have more energy than I, more enthusiam and more thoughts, so you have more to say than I. It's just that sometimes I need that silent spot so my slower thought/words can 'worm' their way to the surface, so to speak. Sorry about the kanckles. I think I gave you those. :)
I probably would've told you about the worm. But it would have been more so I could later mock you by telling the story about you having a worm in yer hose but still feel good about it because I was the kind person to save you from further embarrassment.
I blame it on the young women not being very aware. If I had seen you that day, I'd definitely have told you!
i always have something on my face and nobody ever tells me. i wish i had known.
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