ImPerceptibility

Posts Tagged ‘bacon’

“Hi Hon – Man with Jesus shirt and one with huntin’ shirt. I’m a little out of place here.”

I stood between two men. One had a “Jesus is my rock star” shirt and the other had a huntin’ shirt. I was wearing a teal shirt. It was just teal, dark teal, and it looked good with my eyes. I wasn’t advertising anything but pretty eyes. There’s no crime in that.

I backed out slowly and sat down alone. I had placed myself carefully in the back of the room near the door. I felt safe there. I wasn’t in the mood to socialize. I was in the mood to observe. More realistically, I was in the mood to judge. It didn’t take me long to start. I started with judging them; I ended with judging myself. Then I put Hayes Carll on repeat and texted observations to MyHusband. They weren’t very nice.

I watched as fat people gorged themselves with pizza that was covered in more meat than I’ve eaten in the last year. They offered me a slice. I thanked them, then politely declined. I didn’t make excuses. I didn’t tell them why. I didn’t feel the need to explain myself to a fat man wearing a US flag T-shirt. It was obvious those colors didn’t run, he had sausage grease on his double chin. I started to feel lonely. I started to wish I fit in. I wanted to be able to shove my beliefs away and pretend. Like I use to. I use to pretend all the time. It used to be easy. But now, I look at my children and I can’t. Or maybe, I won’t.

The racist comment came while the kids played musical chairs. I guess hip-hop wasn’t a good choice for music. I stopped myself from suggesting that Jesus loves both gangsters and rock stars. I considered explaining that the devil plays a fiddle when he’s looking for souls to steal. But that kind of talk could have gotten me into some serious trouble. I was in the mood to judge, not cause problems for my daughter. So I judged them silently and I judged them harshly. They deserved it.

I was happy when they ate the cake. Almost giddy as the presents were opened. My patience was wearing thin and my fight or flight response was kicking into overdrive. A woman handed out the goody bags and I was finally free. I had my daughter tell them thank you, and then we left. We walked slowly to the door then our pace picked up. By the time we made it to our car we were running and giggling. “Let’s go listen to some music.” I told her. She cheered.

I took the corner out of the parking lot with the mommy equivalent of “on two wheels” (just a little faster than necessary). Then we raced downtown. I sat down beside MyHusband and propped my feet up on an empty chair. We listened to the blues and we listened to a multi-racial group of teenage boys play “We’re not going to take” on their electric guitars.

“We’re not gonna take it anymooooore” my youngest sang.

“And don’t you forget it” I mouthed to her and smiled. She sat on my lap and she stuck her fist in the air as she sang. We drank some Hi-C punch and ate a few Oreo’s. Everything seemed just a little better. Then I went home and ate bacon. I’m not sure why I did that. Perhaps it was an inappropriate reaction to stress. I may have a bacon related eating disorder. Or maybe being surrounded by archaic belief systems forced me to re-evaluate my own. Either way, it was good. Very very good. I’d do it again, some day. It’s good to break through self-imposed boundaries. If you don’t, you’ll end up like the people you’re trying to get away from. I’ve come too far to end up like them.