I admit it. I pluck at stop lights. I don’t have much time with my hands free, where I can be in front of a mirror and be still. Stop lights are the only place I have this moment to do something for myself. Like pull renegade hairs out of my face.
So it’s not such a bad thing, right? Any mom who sees this would get it. Except that the person who gave me the look – you know, part horror, part disgust – was not a mom. I went to high school with her.
You know how you can’t help but look at the person driving the car next to you as it pulls up to a stop light? Well I looked, and I was mid-yank. And I knew the girl in the car next to me. Her eyebrows went down and her lip went up on one side. I looked at her for a second, with my mouth kind of open. Oh my god what do i do?
And how did I know that the girl in the car next to me was not a mom? Maybe she just didn’t have her baby with her. Nope, not a mom. I facebook stalked her as soon as I got home.
I haven’t seen her since high school, and I only talk to a few people from high school, and I kind of don’t care what the rest of them think. But I was mortified when I got the look. It felt like high school all over again.
Oh my god what do I do?
I turned back to the mirror and kept plucking. I can’t waste that precious time. And then the light turned, so I put my tweezers down and drove away.