Good day, ladies!
Following in the countdown theme of my little “blogoversary,” I wanted to share with you one of my favorite posts.
It’s one of those posts that shows you a side of our personalities that we often don’t share publicly.
It’s the famous “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde Personality.”
We all have it, even if we choose to pretend we don’t.
It’s that mean streak that lives in all of us and comes out to play when provoked either by anger, fear, insecurity, or even boredom.
If we’re lucky, the results of our actions are harmless.
However, the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde syndrome is not to be taken lightly.
I don’t think I need to remind you how sometimes, serious consequences can take place when we’re unable to leash this little monster once it comes out of the box.
That said, if you’re able to say in control, it allows you to make the acquaintance with another side of your personality; one you may or may not want to display publicly.
But of course, that’s up to you.
Without further ado, I give you one of my early posts titled,
Can every day be a good day?
I’ve always considered myself to have pretty high self esteem.
Of course there are those “bad hair days”, and those “fugly days” and the worse of the lot, those “hippo days”.
Fortunately, those days are far and few between.
However, why isn’t it surprising that just when you’re feeling on top of the world something happens to kick you back to one of the aforementioned statuses?
That “something” would be to find yourself in line, sandwiched between Ms. Vogue and Ms. Elle.
Flowing tresses, devoid of split ends, perfectly manicured hands, perfectly pedicured feet, makeup fit for any Hollywood star, and legs that don’t stop.
Any shred of self-esteem you may have had before you got in line has shamefully exited the building.
Sadly, the only thing you’re left with is a very severe inner critic who seems hell-bent on reminding you that somewhere in a village, an oompa loompa has gone missing.
You catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the cashier’s glasses and you see flyaways, frizz and is that a feather?
You look down at your fingernails and wonder where they have gone.
As for your feet, you’re not brave enough to look down at them because you can’t remember the last time a pumice stone came within a ten-mile radius.
And the makeup?
Does pinching your cheeks for a minute and biting your lips before you came into the store count?
You pay for your items and do the walk of shame to the car.
As you sit in the driver’s seat, you wonder if there’s a pygmy village somewhere in Central Africa that would welcome you with open arms.
Suddenly you spy Ms. Vogue and Ms. Elle making their way out to the parking lot.
You glance at them in their perfect outfits, with their perfect hair, drinking their perfect Skinny Vanilla Lattes, and that’s when you see it.
You quickly put the key in the ignition, glance in the rear view mirror to make sure it’s clear, put the car in reverse and wait.
They’re almost where you want them.
You put the car in drive as they get closer.
Just a few more steps.
You take your foot off the brake and head for it.
It’s perfect and it’s waiting.
Waiting, just waiting.
The minute they walk next to it, you floor it.
Dirty water spurts everywhere.
Screams are heard.
Bags are dropped.
As you drive off, you once again look in the mirror and witness the macabre scene.
Ms. Elle and Ms. Vogue giving you the finger as they run after your vehicle.
No more flowing locks of hair.
No more perfect makeup.
No more gorgeous outfits.
Just two crazed looking women running behind your car drenched in muddy water.