Last week, I was out and about and the car desperately needed a wash since the MN road salt was thick. I pulled in to pay at the wash, but the card reader was taped with a sign that said go inside to pay for a wash. I did so.
I was wearing my new prescription sunglasses that make me look badass.
I walked tentatively up to the counter, the two ladies behind it were talking and I wasn’t sure which till to go to and if I should interrupt. “Come on up here,” one of them said.
“I need a carwash,” I said, looking over the options on the counter and trying to pick one.
“How about I give you a deal,” says the lady, looking at me through squinted eyes. “You give my colleague here a hug, and I’ll give you a carwash.”
I looked at her colleague, who looked as confused as me. She had the look of a late 50’s woman who has had a shit week, and embarrassed on top of that.
“Do you need a hug?” I asked.
“I guess so,” she said, shooting some eye daggers at the other one.
I reach across, and we embrace across the rib-level counter. I get a free carwash.
Today, I had to go get one of the headlights changed. I tried doing it myself once, but that was way more trouble than it’s worth. I called my trusted place and arranged a time to pop in.
I sat in the waiting room as the guy went out. In 4 minutes, he came back in with the old bulb.
“That was fast!”
“Want a souvenir?” he asked.
“No thanks,” I laughed. I reach for my wallet.
Since June, I’ve managed to lose 50 lbs, but am still wearing the same clothes for the most part. They’re baggy, but still get the job done. At least they should until I lose another ten pounds. I’ve also started weight training in the last month on top of the walks and diet. So my theory is I must be damn sexy with my glasses and only 30+ more pounds to lose before I’m just overweight and not in the obese BMI category. (That’s 70 lbs before I’m considered “normal” and don’t get me started on that nomenclature.)
It’s like those social experiments when a skinny person wears a fat suit and finds out how shitty people are when they aren’t in the pretty/handsome bubble.
So my fine ass and cool sunglasses are pulling in some free services related to my car. Things are looking up!
As if the universe heard my ego inflating, my very next stop after the headlight was to get some cash from the bank. I didn’t have my checkbook with me, so just used my ID. They sent out a slip for me to sign. I dropped the pen in the car, found it and signed the slip.
As I was putting the canister back in the tube thing, I fumbled and dropped it and it rolled under the car. I squeezed out of the car since the door wouldn’t open all the way with the tube thing right there. I had to get all the way down on all fours and use the ice scraper to roll the canister from between the back tires – my saggy pants ensuring that my ass was waving at all passersby.
And the universal balance is restored.