Do I Say Something?

What do you do when a stranger has a personal faux pas?

I’m sure I’m not alone being tongue tied trying to figure out a way to tell people a piece of embarrassing information.

People say I’m good at conversation. Part of my career is speaking, talking, training. I’ve worked in industries where you need to pull on those pink big girl hip briefs and get on out there. No time for anxieties or fear. I can handle that.

I’m also one of the most annoying friends to have. “Your tag is showing,” while I’m pushing it down. “Bats in the belfry”, I whisper when I hand you a tissue. Getting someone’s attention and rubbing my teeth show they have lipstick on theirs. And the always annoying, “Your shirt’s inside out.”

It’s like I have two OCD pals sitting on my shoulder commenting about people. I can imagine them tapping each other and pointing it out.

That’s just part of my quirky self. My friends are used to it, but strangers. Now that’s a tricky one.

It’s uncomfortable to step out of your box and talk to complete strangers. In today’s day and age, people will step back when you step forward, lean away when you lean in, not to mention the odd looks.

This is where I found myself two months back while I waited in the grocery express line. I have our few groceries, standing on the blue circle, fully masked, even though masking was still optional in the Lone Star state.

The woman in front of me, no mask, having a bubbly conversation with the cashier, with her wine and the fixings for a BBQ on the way down the conveyor belt.

I enjoyed the conversation, mainly because her happiness was contagious. I guessed her to be around my age. I looked at what she wore, wondering how that casual black dress might look on me, when I stopped. Just stopped.

My OCD mind started into overdrive. The buddies tapped the hell out of each other. The familiar urge to say something threatened to blurt out my mouth. I would sure as heck want to know. Maybe she did. That’s possible.

Would she brush me off with a nasty glare? Ask me why I was staring. Do the eye thing up and down, judging my Saturday mid-morning ensemble of a loose t-shirt and black leggings. And my Wonder Woman mask.

Do I say something, not… what do I do, what do I do. I took a breath and made the leap.

“Ma’am.”

She didn’t hear me. I cleared my throat.

“Ma’am.”

She turned and smiled. The cashier looked at me. Beads of sweat formed in my armpits.

I motioned her towards me and pulled my mask down so she could see I was a human. She took a step away from the cashier.

I took a step back and leaned a little forward.

“Yes?”

“I don’t know if you know and I couldn’t help but overhear you were heading out after this.”

She smiled, uncertain, “Yes?”

“Okay, um. Did you know your dress is see-through?”

Her eyes widened. She patted her dress down in back and tried to look behind. Women, you know what I mean.

“How bad?”

I swallowed my dread.

“You have a rose tattoo on your right cheek.”

I didn’t mention I could see her thong. That was a given.

Her next words were…

“Oh, my God. Thank you. I’ve been wearing this all day. I’m so embarrassed.”

“I only noticed because you were standing still.”

“Well, I appreciate it. I can’t believe I walked around the store like this.”

She shook her head, laughed, paid for her wine and brisket, waved to me, and headed on out the store.

I will never know if she changed, but maybe I made someone’s day better. At the very least, my OCD buddies on my shoulders stopped grinning and pointing. I paid for my groceries and headed out to my car, one thought on my mind.

I wonder if I would look good with a rose tattoo.

I wanted to shout out to Sherry McGuinn for her prompt “What’s the Hole in Your Pants?”

and send it on over to conny manero, Geetika Sethi, Timothy Key Dr Mehmet Yildiz and lastly to Paul Myers MBA.