Luggage On Line

Why is it That.... There's an Emotional Charge at the Check-out?

I just got checked out, and I wasn’t even at the grocery store.

It should have been a banner moment for all thirty-nine years of me. After all, the only thing fuller than my grocery bags these days is the luggage I’m carting under my withered eyes. Sigh. I’m resigned to having passed that baton to my tweenage daughter. In fact, I thumped her on the head on the transfer.

Think what you will, my friends, but aging gracefully is overrated.

Perhaps this is why I took the following incident as well as I did. There I was, stopped at a red light, passing the time by looking at the cars around me. After a quick glance to my right, I did a double take as I noticed a guy actually check me out. But before I could even consider sitting taller in my minivan captain’s chair, he followed up with a dramatic post-stroke face and shoulder shrug that said “Eeh.”

Good God. Had it really come to that? This, after all, is the same reaction I had to my first bite of eggplant. One squinted eye, a half smirk, as if to say “So, what’s all the hype about? It’s not repulsive enough for a spit-take, but I’m not about to devour it, either.”

With that, any fantasies I’d held onto about being considered an “American Pie” M.I.L.F. were obliterated. Unless, of course, this young man defined the acronym as a “Mother I’d Like to Find at least one car length away.”

It could have been worse, though. No? He didn’t retch, or even bark, or moo.

When you take into consideration that this moment coincided with my very first non-beach, public debut of my arms, which I not so affectionately refer to as “tharms” (thigh arms), I nearly honked my horn and waved in appreciation. But that would have sent the arms a flapping… the very thing that had me doubt my skimpy clothing selection on this hot summer day.

The outfit choice was a bold move for someone who had no business tempting karma. I’d already fulfilled half my destiny by becoming a high school Spanish teacher. And now that the tharms and the man were involved, the universe was ripe for a payback.

You see, the debt was incurred twenty-six years ago when I had my first Spanish class with Señora Améndola. While the kind woman surely taught me irregular verb forms in a way that made me love the language enough to want to teach it when I grew up, I have only one real memory of her class: Each and every time that poor woman wrote on the chalkboard, any and all learning stopped as I giggled and snickered about how her arms wagged like my dog’s tail on steak night.

I had built-in insurance that my students would never have the same memories of me. Long sleeves pretty much guaranteed it. I must admit, however, that this approach once led a student to proclaim to the class that he pictured me sweating on my upcoming wedding day. He was right, of course, and was part of the reason I dared to brave ¾ sleeves, and squelched all fantasies of transferring to a Catholic school and dressing as a nun. Sweat and public ridicule can do that to a girl.

Summer vacation recently arrived and inspired me to get braver still. I decided to tackle an afternoon of yard work while wearing a bright orange fitted tank top. In the privacy of my own yard, my superficial thoughts became secondary to my deep-tissue issues as I stooped, yanked and hauled the afternoon away. That is until my hungry family declared a craving for Chinese takeout. I was exhausted enough to rationalize the indecent exposure of my tharms, and hop in the car. After all, odds were good that I wouldn’t need to wave excitedly or give any high-fives while picking up our order.

Once the exchange was completed, I left the restaurant with nary a condemning glance and re-entered the safety of my minivan. Not so bad at all. I might just dare to bare again someday. Then, not one mile down the road, along came the reluctant “Eeh” of approval to remind me of my needs for growth in some areas, and a lot more restraint in others.

I love it when the gods go easy on me. Now pass me the egg rolls…

About the Author

Shana McLean Moore is a columnist for The Almaden Times and is the author of Femail: A Comic Collision in Cyberspace and Caffeinated Ponderings on Life, Laughter & Lattes. She hopes you’ll stop by to savor some of her Fresh Brew by subscribing to her free newsletter at www.caffeinatedponderings.com.

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