|An overdeveloped sense of fairness.
||[Apr. 6th, 2010|03:47 pm]
So a friend's recent post about feeling less than adequate, plus another friend posting some lovely poetry she wrote and then listening to other friends rehearsing last night -- lovely singing and music and I, am pruning. Because that's what I'M good at. Great. |
And then today, I decide to stop by Whole Paycheck to grab lunch and there's this incredibly fit woman, clearly just having gotten off the tennis court, is loading a container full of greasy meat stew-thing and I have a box of LETTUCE for lunch, with a Kiwi as my big dessert treat. And I carefully counted out my money from my grocery envelope -- because money's tight for us right now and putting the budget in envelopes is the only way I can stick to it. (Could I make it last longer, but not buying lunch at Whole Foods? Certainly. But I forgot to bring my lunch, HAD to get dog supplement there and had a very small window for lunch. Quit judging me. I'm holding a fork.)
And as I gimped out to my new to me, but pretty damn used to everyone else cheap-ass car and she nimbly loped out ahead of me and hopped into her Armada/Expedition/GiantAss shiny SUV, with gold detailing....I hated. HATED that bitch. Who clearly doesn't work full time, if at all. And whose sneakers cost more than the sum total of my entire outfit. Who clearly has time to work out, time to get a tan, and a manicure. Who can lope and hop. Hell, can walk without pain.
(Mind you, she could well be a very nice person, who's worked very hard to get where she is and is just taking the week off, and gets up at 4am to workout every day and today is the day she decided to splurge on lunch. But that would so NOT work with where my head was. So, sorry stranger, on you, I unleash the hate. Plus, later, when we were on the road together, you didn't use your signal...twice. And you were yapping on your cell phone before you even got out of your parking space. So, I'm probably spot-on with my original assessment.)
But seriously, wanted to just run her off the road.
Because it's just NOT FAIR.
The first major "not fair" wound remembered: When a middle school teacher, upon whom I had a major, major crush, was watching my best friend run a lap at track practice. And he said to me "Wow, isn't she incredible? Beautiful, smart, funny and runs like the wind." And I looked at him. And if I'd had a fork, I would have stuck it in him in a fit of rage. Because he was right. And I had smart and funny, but I also had graceless, chunky, and acne-ridden. Seriously -- that Robin had all of that? Plus a horse? NOT FAIR. Thank goodness Robin seemed unware of her gifts, which is why Mr. Johnson was going to get the fork, and she remained a friend until I moved away.
And here I am, more than halfway through my life, still grimly hanging onto the notion that it should be fair. That everyone should get the same amount of gifts and misery as everyone else -- and if you get more of one than the other, it's because you deserve it. You earned it, good or bad, the extra stuff.
So....how good did it feel to see that woman pulled over by a cop just ten minutes later? Oh, yeah.