I'm not a person who's afraid of confrontation. I speak up. I consider this a good quality. Sure, sometimes it gets me into trouble, and sometimes I say too much, but overall I believe that speaking up is the only way to live. Don't bottle that shit up, man. EATS YOU ALIVE.
So last week when I was at the mall, I spoke up.
Baby Fraggle and I were in the Hallmark card shop. We were walking in, between two big rows of greeting cards. (Well, I was walking. Fraggle was happily riding in her stroller.) There was an old couple ahead of me, in their 70s, and there was another mom leaving the store, also with a stroller.
That's when shit got real, y'all.
The crazy old couple wasn't looking at me, they were watching Other Mom. Other Mom was walking out, while I was walking in.
Crazies, not seeing me, started to back up to let Other Mom go by. (They didn't have to do that. Other Mom had plenty of room, as you can see from my very adept drawing.)
As Crazies started to back up, so did I, giving them room. Crazy Man almost bumped into me. I smiled. But this wasn't good enough for Crazy Lady.
Crazy Lady: "Watch out, husband!" And then, under her breath, "These women - have to bring CARS into stores with them."
Umm, pardon me? These women? Cars?
No. We are regular women, just like you. And these are baby strollers. You know, to safely and lovingly transport the tiny humans that we grew inside our bodies who are yet incapable of walking on their own. What if you had a wheelchair or a walker, Sunshine?
So of course, in my speak up style, I said:
"Hello? Did you say something?"
*No response. Starts to walk away. Ignores me completely.*
"Excuse me ma'am, I'm talking to you..."
By this time, Crazy Lady had walked around the other side of the aisle. I obviously continued to attempt to engage her in conversation, leaning on my tiptoes, looking over top of the giant shelf of cards.
"I think you said something. Care to repeat it?"
*Looks past me like I'm a ghost.*
"Yeah. That's what I thought."