The Confidence of Scars

Recently, I was walking a German Sheppard that my roommates and I were babysitting when it saw a squirrel and decided to put all of its strength into chasing it. Unfortunately, I was attached to the other end. Double unfortunately, the squirrel was at the bottom of a set a stairs. So the dog happily chased the little fluff ball down, dragging me along with it. I wasn’t hurt too bad beyond my ego but I did manage to mentally scar a bunch of elementary school kids who were passing by on their way home from school. Especially after I stood up and the blood actually started to drip off of me. I’m pretty sure half of them ran home crying to their parents that they don’t actually want the dog anymore that they have been begging for every birthday and Christmas. I did look like quite the mess. My knees and one of my shoulders were pretty scrapped up but the crowning glory was the bruising and scraps encompassing my left eye. It wasn’t technically a black eye but from a distance, it definitely looked like someone had really got me really good. Then for some reason, it looked even worse after I cleaned it up. Maybe because the red parts looked brighter…. and redder. Either way, I am ashamed to say it made me really self conscious. I’d like to think of myself as a body confident person who don’t care too much about what other people say but apparently was all made up because I desperately did not want to leave the house until I looked normal again. But I forced myself to leave the next day and tried my best to ignore all of the stares I got running my errands. One was to CVS to get more Band-Aids and antibacterial creams and I wasn’t even fully out the door when one of the cashers turned to the other exclaiming “Did you see her face?!” That one really felt great, let me tell you. But it wasn’t until I got to the grocery store that I really felt the weight of it all. But in a way I wasn’t expecting. I was being rung up for my food when I noticed that the cashier had charged me for the wrong apples. Mine were on sale and the ones he had put on my bill were 25 cents more per pound. It wasn’t going to made that big of a difference but I decided to say something anyways. “Excuse me, you charged me for the wrong apples.” I said as nicely as humanly possible. The cashier shrugged and mumbled “I don’t think so.” Rude. I tried again. “Actually, the ones I got were on sale.” Cashier shrugs again, trying to ignore me. On any other day, I might have just let it go, I only got a pound and a half, maybe two pounds of apples so it would have be 50 cents max that I was saving. I am also very very non-confrontational in general but after all of the stares and finger pointing I had gotten today, I was a bit more aggressive that I would have typically. “Excuse me sir.” I said with an air of confidence in my voice that even I didn’t fully recognize. “These were on sale.” The cashier finally looked up at me for the first time and did a double take. I made my face look hard, made my eyes really wide and then cocked it to the side ever so slightly (in the “you don’t want to mess with me, I’m crazy. Kind of way.” The casher’s fingers moved at lightning speed as he corrected the price. As I left I put on a smile, took my bags and said “Have a nice day.” and this guy just silently stared at me as I walked away. Sure, I felt a little guilty for being a jerk. Actually, that’s a lie. I felt awesome for being a jerk. Not that I’m condoning this kind of behavior at all. But it’s nice to have a confidence boost every once in a while. Cause when you are at the bottom of a set of concrete stair with broken sunglasses and a mouthful of dirt, you can only hope that some sort of good has to come from it. Even in it require a little bit crazy.

Putting the Fuse in Confused,

C

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