The Woman I'm Not

Yesterday while waiting for my appointment at the chiropractor's office, I happened to glance over at the woman sitting next to me. She was an attractive black woman and she wore black jeans, a black top,  and a pretty, solid-colored turquoise scarf tied around her neck that new modern way (you know what I'm talking about?) I looked down at her feet and noticed that she had flip-flops on and her toe nails were painted turquoise.

I just blurted out, "Wow. Nice color on your toes! They match your scarf! Did you plan that?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Really?" I said, not  expecting that answer.

She continued, "I get my nails done once a week and plan my wardrobe around it."

I looked at her more closely.

Her earrings were turquoise.

The tips of her fingernails were turquoise.

"Do you mean to tell me that you wear something turquoise ALL week?" I asked her incredulously.

"Yes."

"Wow, I'm impressed!"

And I was. First off, this woman exuded coolness. I mean, if I happened to have a hot flash sitting next to her, it would have dissipated in an instant.

Seriously.

Secondly, to plan ahead that much so you know what you are wearing a week in advance?

That's impressive.

I REALLY wanted to take a picture of her feet and her hands; hell ALL of her, but I felt she would of thought I was nucking futs.

I mean, here I am, a middle-aged woman, who walks in, well, shuffles in because my hip and back hurt me. I'm wearing gym shoes and anklets, no make up, and I probably smell like a rusty nail even though I just showered but the water in the campground sucks because it's well water.

Am I raising my freaky flag or what?

I'm surprised the woman didn't change seats when I sat down next to her.

Oh, wait, there wasn't anymore open seats.

That explains it.

I DID hear her give a sigh of relief when the doctor called her in.

Just another day in the life of little ole me.