That awkward moment when you can see over the toilet stall and changing room doors… First of all, public restrooms are revolting. Even though the word “public” is in there doesn’t mean there shouldn’t be some degree of privacy. Then the place always tries to mask the odor with fruity or flowery scents sprayed from an aerosol can. No one tells the nice cleaning lady that it does nothing for the place (it’s probably just for her benefit…. keeps her from passing out as she cleans). They’re also putting couches, armchairs, and fake baskets of flowers in the bathrooms these days. Nope, it’s no longer those 5 star city restaurants that get the special treatment. We’re ALL special now! Isn’t that exciting?? As if an armchair is going to change the entire ambience of a bathroom.
Now that I’ve said my piece, on to the moment(s): I was walking through the changing rooms at my place of work the other day when I saw WAY more of an older woman than I ever cared to. I mean, kudos to those older people who don’t care about showing what they got, but really, spare me. Please.
At my other job the stalls are at least 5 inches shorter than I am. You can imagine the first time I went in there…. “Uhh, hi…..*cough*…I think someone took the rest of your door….” Door 5 – Allyssa 0.
I’m tall to begin with, so as the general population gets shorter, so do bathroom stalls. Yay for me. When I stand I just pop right up over the door. It’s even more terrifying (or embarrassing) when the mirror is on the wall just opposite. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’ll just photobomb that selfie you were going to put on Facebook. Enjoy those comments.” Yes, I have attained the status of ultimate creeper. I feel like it’s sort of an accomplishment. Anyone want to give me a cookie? Or something…?
As for the changing rooms, you can only hope that the doors are tall enough to cover your upper half. Good luck to all you taller beings, it’s a tough, cruel (and short) world out there.
That moment when everyone thinks you a different age. People typically think I am older than I really am. Now, I don’t know why this happens…but it does….A LOT. Just in the past week I have counted 17 instances where people have tacked extra years onto my life. Maybe I just exude and ooze maturity. It’s a maturity glow instead of a maternity glow. New thing, just made it up. When these occurrences happen I’m not always sure how to respond. I’m at the point in my life that is between “adult” and “being-legally-allowed-to-drink-adult” which can be dangerous if you assume incorrectly. But no worries, I am a responsible individual that actually has a moral compass and some semblance of self respect.
But after the wearying 18th time of being mistaken for a 20-something woman, forgive me for being a little annoyed. I know, all those out there that would have loved the opportunity to go to a bar and not be carded under the age of 21 are shunning me. By all means, shun away! Because my idea of a good time is curling up in a fluffy blanket with a cup of earl grey tea and my laptop watching Sherlock.
Maybe when I am in my thirties I will react differently. As long as they think I am in my early twenties. If I STILL look older then I will for sure have a problem. But like I said, I am nowhere near that point in my life. So at this time, I would greatly appreciate people not adding those extra years onto my life. I like feeling semi-accomplished for my age.
But age is just a number, right? And birthdays are just another day. We humans are so time consumed. It’s all about making it to practice on time and finishing that paper by deadline. We always look at our calendars and watches like our lives are dependent upon our next appointment. Maybe the Europeans have it right: stop and enjoy life every once in a while. Or maybe, just maybe, we will miss it.
So tonight, look up at the sky. The millions of stars sparkling on a black canvas. If you live in the city, just step outside, look at the thousands of people rushing here and there and just stop. Right in the middle of the crowd. Take a deep breath of that putrid city air, but enjoy each second of it. Every. Single. Second.
That moment when you are a poor college kid.
Here it is! Welcome to “real life”! (Because we’ve all been living an imaginary life up until we walk on a college campus or through corporate’s revolving doors.)
You know you are a poor college kid when:
1) You use napkins from a fast food restaurant as toilet paper. Go ahead, grab an extra hundred or so. I think these particular places should just throw in those nifty silver napkin holders, just out of pure love…..or pity.
2) You find yourself walking everywhere. If this is you, you might as well go get a cheap bike. But either way, the exercise is a positive thing! And your new hot and fit body will get guys to ask you out and you know what that means…..FREE food! Get him to take you to a steak restaurant, you deserve it. (Sorry guys, you luck out on this one.)
3) One day you look in the mirror and see that you are at McDonald’s using their hand dryer as a hair dryer. Don’t judge.
4) You hear the word “money” and your ears perk up, pupils dilate, and you look around frantically for that green paper. I don’t care if it’s a crisp dollar bill, I’ll take a wrinkly one!
5) People can smell you from a mile away because you only take a shower…mm…about once a week.
6) You search the dorm couches for spare change when no one is looking. A penny here, a dime there…hey, one day you will be thankful for that penny!
7) Instead of going to the laundromat, you just spray your dirty clothes with air freshener. Now inhale deeply…if it smells even remotely close to a flower or ocean it’s good enough!
People know us by our 7 year old tshirts, cheap granola bars for breakfast, and the fork we use as a hairbrush (thank you Disney). Those are just a few, have any to add? Feel free to comment!
But hey, being broke really has it’s advantages. You become very thrifty and find absolutely ridiculous ways to manage everyday functions. Now, I am not saying I am on-the-streets poor, but I think “broke college kid” has a meaning that most understand these days. Correct me if I’m wrong.
Sadly, I have no tips on becoming independently wealthy or anything. I’m new to this whole walk of life to begin with. Let me just tell you that Dollar General, coupons, and generic brand food are your new best friends. Here’s to higher education!
That awkward moment when the dentist asks you questions when his hands are in your mouth.
It is “6-month” check-up time! You walk into the waiting room and the nauseating smell of fluoride fills your nostrils, giving you a sudden headache.(I often wonder if they just bottle that stuff up and use it as air freshener.) Walking up to the receptionist she has your paperwork all ready. She hands you a clipboard advertising a new clinical drug and holding at least a dozen pages all waiting to be filled out in your cramped handwriting.
Once your name is called, you stand and follow the hygienist into a room filled with shiny tools that look like they belong in the home of a serial killer. She goes through the motions, the typical, “How often do you floss? When was the last time you were at the dentist?” Who lies and says that they floss every single day? tsk tsk. Naughty, naughty! I just ask how bad my teeth look and when they tell me they’re looking good that’s when I drop the bomb. “I haven’t been to the dentists in over 7 years.” Take that. Thankfully they don’t turn on me and tell me I suddenly have 5 cavities that they “missed”. Actually most people aren’t even surprised by that number. Leave it to us unhealthy Americans to not go in for our regular check-ups.
Now it’s the dentist’s turn. And this is when our awkward moment comes into play. They smile their bright white smile, settle into their swivel chair, and pick up those sharp tools. He then says, “Open wide! No, wider. Wider….there you go!” And here come the questions. You know it’s going to happen. It’s inevitable. Whenever I used to attempt to answer I always ended up sounding like the adults in the Charlie Brown movies. To which he would reply with, “Oh that’s nice. So what grade are you in? Where do you go to school? Do you like it? What are your friends like? Is that your natural hair color?” Ya know what?…Let’s just play 20 questions! Instead I think, “I’m sorry…Allyssa can’t tell you her life story at the moment, please wait and ask her when your fist is not occupying her mouth. Thank you.” Now that I am older, I just ignore the poor man.
Also, when I sit back in that plastic chair, the light beaming in my eyes, I always think to myself, “What do I do with my tongue?” It kind of has a mind of its own. It wraps around the hygienist’s tools, does a little jig, presses against the roof of my wide-open mouth, swims in the pool of my saliva… I just do not know what to do with my tongue! Does anyone else experience this dilemma at the dentist? Anyone?…no? Oh, well….forget I said anything, please.
Another thing: scraping my teeth with those hard, metal tools can’t be good for them. I feel like it’s a counterproductive practice. But then, we do go to the salon to dye our hair. And we are handed a lollipop when we’re done at the doctors office. We also go to politicians for economic help. All I can say is that the doctors do a good job of keeping the dentists in practice.
But when all is said and done, I am a happy person if I walk out with no cavities or other unforeseen problems. And after 7 years of not going to the dentist (shhh!), I can say that is a pretty good accomplishment. Thank God for Crest right?
That awkward moment when you are texting and not watching where you are going….and run into a pole in Walmart. To answer all of your questions at once, yes, this has happened to me. I didn’t just witness some idiot do it. I was the idiot.
But I am the idiot quite often, if I’m being completely honest. It’s rather a specialty of mine…I should put it on my resume. I am the reason they have the “no texting and driving” laws. Because I can’t even walk and text. I obviously need both eyes on where I am going and two hands clasped behind my back being absolutely still.
I don’t even remember if the conversation was thrilling or intellectual, probably not. All the same, I still walked right into that pole. And I had a bruise to prove it. I had a lot of fun making up tales of how I got that remarkable and colorful bruise on my forehead:
“I was slaying a dragon, and he didn’t much like it.”
“Oh, I just got into a bar fight…with five big hulking dudes. It was awesome! You should see those other guys, they got it way worse. Did I mention Bruce Willis was there?”
“I was just out playing tennis with Serena Williams and I swear, that ball came outta nowhere!”
But the real story, the Walmart version of the accident, is the one people tended to believe. I can’t imagine why. But I say, if you’re going to be a klutz, you might as well stand proud! Go ahead and trip over that flat ground…. claim it, own it. It’s just about all you got. And remember, being an awkward klutz takes some real talent.
That moment when you have a one-man dance party in your house….and then someone walks in or sees you. That’s right, you aren’t the only one out there! Although, I tend to do it regardless of the fact that someone may walk in. Can anyone blame me?
You hear a beat and your foot starts tapping..
your head starts bobbing…
and next thing you know it’s a full-body spasm.
This is particularly relevant since I dubbed today as “80’s Dance Party Day”. I have a special playlist on Spotify and everything. I pull out the moves to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” and pretend like my life is a stereotypical 1980’s music video. It’s really quite enjoyable. And you know what? The strange looks make it even better. So embrace the fact that someone may see you. Don’t be ashamed! Own that chicken dance. Work that sprinkler move.
Seriously, go ahead. Scroll to your favorite tune on your iPod and blast your speakers. Rock that air guitar, let your hair down, and pull out those special dance moves that no one has been allowed to see.
I think, no matter how horrible or uncoordinated, dancing is good for everyone. It’s not only the best work out but it makes you smile. I would like to meet the person that dances with a straight face. And don’t send me Kristen Stewart… I’ll just end up in jail.
Now, click on the link and pull out your living room routine. It’s time to dance ladies and gentlemen 🙂
P.S. Just a final piece of advice: do not wear those overalls from the video. Don’t get THAT crazy.