I don't fancy myself as a high-maintenance person. I don't wear makeup. I shower and get ready to go wherever it is I need to go in fifteen minutes or under. I don't paint my nails. My two concessions to vanity are perfume (usually) and earrings (most days.) My clothes, while not setting any fashion trends to be sure, are clean, well kept, and I look presentable.
I don't think I'm very attractive, but I'm a darn nice person. I try to treat others the way I would want to be treated. I try to be fun to be around. I try not to get caught up in all the backbiting and gossip that you normally get when you work with primarily women. I try to smile at everyone, and I try to say hello in the mornings. Well...as far as mornings go....I'm not perky like a cheerleader, but neither am I a total grouch once I get moving.
Why is it, then, that people seem to feel like they can talk about me within my hearing as if I'm not there? Do they think that fat has so clogged my eardrums that I'm not capable of hearing the hurtful things they say? I'm not saying that I expect people to strew rose petals at my feet as I walk by, but what ever happened to common courtesy?
Southerners, in general, are excellent at smiling at your face and then shredding you to bits once you walk away. I've never lived anywhere else, so I'm not sure whether this is purely a Southern phenomenon or not. It's almost like it's a hobby. A pastime of sorts. An exercise in vitriol.
I guess I shouldn't be all that shocked by the fact that there are still people over the age of five who like to point out all my imperfections. You would think that so-called adults have better things to do with their time than to try and verbally flay a co-worker. When did civility take flight? When did the empathy and compassion of the Average Joe take wing out of the window?
Instead of "Where have all the flowers gone?", maybe I should be asking "Where have all the manners gone?" Or, maybe I should be asking myself why this all still surprises me.