Looking like zombie whore seems to be a theme in my life.

I think I might need to give up on the attitude that, I’m just running into Kroger’s, no one shops there so I don’t need to be presentable. Twice now I’ve gone in looking bad and both times I’ve run into someone I know. Not like “people of Wal-Mart” freakish, more like, just-broke-out-of-prison-and-am-wearing stolen-clothes-that-don’t-fit-right-and-am-super-sweaty-and-look-shady kind of bad. Which is still bad, just not, muffin top-with-a-g-string-and-skinny pants-and-patriotic pasties-and-dragging-a-goat-around-like-a-seeing-eye-dog kind of bad. Anyway the first time wasn’t TOO awful. It had been raining and I looked like a drowned rat stuck in a sewer grate but thankfully everyone I saw was either too busy going through self-check-out or wrangling stray, heathen offspring so they just waved and went on and didn’t really notice my rainy day ho look. (I hope) The second time however I’d been weeding the garden, without gloves of course because that would make sense, and was all hot and sweaty and covered in garden filth and bugs. I tried to clean up with the garden hose but figured I was just going home and it didn’t matter. Then halfway home I developed a powerful hunger for microwave burritos and cottage cheese and was drawn against my will to the grocery store. (Cue REO Speedwagon song here.) I made it almost all the way to frozen semi ethnic food without seeing anyone other than mangy pot heads also looking for cheap snacks. But then, just as I thought I was home free, I saw a very dear old friend whose mother-in-law had just passed away and while I have happily done some tacky-ass crap in my time I draw the line at yelling condolences for lost loved ones down aisle 7 passed the laxatives and feminine hygiene products. So off I went to speak to him in all my dried sweat and caked, stinking garden mud glory. Thankfully he is a lovely, well-mannered person that totally pretended not to notice that I was standing there, nails full of dirt like a serial killer that doesn’t think ahead enough bring a shovel to work, hugging burritos and cottage cheese. I am super grateful for his lovely, old school manners but I still think it’s a good idea to stop going to the store looking like a bridge troll with a bad case of the munchies.