Why is it

that when I look my absolute worst, I get the most attention from men?

This has happened two or three times. I'll be out on an absolutely urgent errand- I'll have hair on my legs long enough to braid; the humidity will be 130% so the thatch on my head is frizzy; it'll be 130 degrees so you can smell me before you see me; I'll have walked right out of six hours of air conditioning so you could grease a cake pan with my face- in California terms, 'Tore UP."

Or, as Akealla the All Wise would put it, "Y'all a hot mess."

One of those days. To top it off, I drove home along Arabian Gulf Road with the window down. For some reason I have hair growing in at all different lengths, which gives me the look of someone who just rode home with the window open in high humidity when I actually stayed home and read. You do the math.

So I made it in to the Sultan Center, rounded up groceries I knew I'd be interested in eating at some point (I'm still not hungry) and blessed the Clerk with my appearance and Rewards Card. The fellow next to me in line looked like a linebacker, sort of cute, purchasing a chicken the size of a largish lemon. Hey, what there was of it smelled good.

The bagger could have been an ex-student, and he was having trouble deciding which bag the soap went in. As I tried to help him out, the fellow behind me said, "Excuse me? Miss?"
I turned. He leaned towards me, eyebrows working overtime, voice deepening for empasis. "Afternoon", he said slowly, making sure he kept eye contact as he leaned back.

Oh Jesus.