One of the fastest checkers at the Ralph’s near my apartment is an older sista with a pleasant attitude and a luxurious mustache (WTF?). Her hair is always whipped, and her nails are always well-manicured and colored. And, I imagine that she regularly gets pedicures. Yet, apparently feeling no pressure–social or internal–she deems it necessary to carry on her best Burt Reynolds impersonation. More importantly, she is never without her fire-engine red lipstick (WTF?). I simply want to know why.
I regularly smooth the hairs of my own mustache in her presence in (clearly) abortive attempts at hinting that the rest of the world can see her mustache–perhaps she is unaware that we are aware. I am currently preparing myself to fully confront my favorite cashier on this hairy ordeal. I pray:
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.