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One thing that I find painfully embarrassing is when someone seem to think they look really hot...and they REALLY aren't! I know I should admire this person for having such high self esteem...but I can't admire them, I just sweat for them. One place you run into such people is at strip bars. Not that I really know all that much about them (I DON'T!), but I was tricked into going to a male strip show once by my best friend. And I nearly died of embarrassment. The heaviest, least attractive women were holding out the biggest wads of singles and swooning when the pathetic begging pelvises thrust themselves their way as if they were interested in anything more than the moolah. I mean really. Honestly. Do they THINK that these guys have any real interest in them? LOOK IN THE MIRROR! I have seen the homeliest of both genders make fools of themselves shamelessly flirting and deluding themselves about their appeal.

Not me. Nope. I know what I look like. Not a beauty. Oh sure, MOTH thinks I am good looking. And I won't say that I break any mirrors. But look. I don't turn heads. Not the way a woman would LIKE to turn heads anyway. And that's ok. I know I am not the ugly duckling, but I know that I am not a beauty. No one would fall for me because of my looks. My personality KILLS, but my looks? Nope.

SO (there is a point to all of this). A few weeks ago, MOTH made me go get some new clothes (that is another post all in itself). I needed new clothes, I needed nice clothes to fit my job role. So I got several new suits (I say that like I had old ones to replace...I should say I got several suits, the first I've ever owned). I got several skirt ensembles and casual/nice outfits. And I must have looked like a real slob because as soon as I wore the new clothes, people noticed. REALLY noticed.

There is one young character at work, his name is Sixto. That's really his name. I can't say much more about him except he is very nice, friendly, young, Hispanic, he works hard, and he treats women with respect and some flirtation that hasn't gone beyond an appropriate level (at least within my earshot). So. As soon as I show up at work with the new clothes, he perks up and calls out "HUBBA HUBBA, Miss Ibe!" And he does it every time he sees me. My response? I blush.

I blush because I am embarrassed to think that he might think that I think that he thinks that I believe him when he says that. Did you follow that? He did this for a week, each time with me blushing and telling him to stop it. Finally I told him that he was making me feel bad about myself. he was stunned. "WHY?!?! I am saying something nice, I think you look nice!"

Innocent child. He has no idea how convoluted my thought processes are.

"Look, I know that I am not attractive, and that it's kind of funny that you say hubba hubba, and it's funny because there is no way that you really think that about me..."

So then he had to launch into his explanation of how he was telling the truth, and how he didn't mean to make me feel bad and concluded with, "Man, Miss Ibe, you got no self esteem."

Well no shit Sherlock!

I remember once...oh my God. It was a few weeks after I had eldest. #1 was being an ass and wouldn't go to the store to get milk (eldest was on the boob, the milk was for me so he wouldn't go). So, I poured my lumpy flabby flesh (75 pounds overweight) into his sweat pants and dragged my unshowered body to the store. Just gonna slip in, get the milk and slip out. Hopefully no one would see me that I knew. Discretion was paramount. I slid in....got a gallon...made it the line. i never looked up. But see, I grew up in this town, and there are some people here...like this second cousin of mine...and there I was next in line, looking like shit, not wanting to be seen by anyone...and then. I hear his voice from clear across the store...."HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY SEXY!"

And everyone turned to look at.......me.

I. wanted. to. die.

So Hubba Hubba makes me cringe. Almost makes me want to stop dressing nicely. Except that I do feel better about myself when I have nicer clothes on. I mean. They fit! Hubba hubba indeed.

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