This is what you're throwing at me...
It was a Friday, but not like any other Friday. This particular end of the week had left me feeling dejected. Work had gotten the best of me. After being pulled into a meeting with not one, but two of my supervisors, and discussing, what appeared to me as a personal attack on my character, I left work and rushed to pack for a weekend away. I wanted to be happy and excited to be going off on this trip but all I could think about was what other people thought about me. How I could act one way but it be perceived another. How I could be going about my day none the wiser that I could be ruining someone else's. It seems dramatic to think that I actually could be walking around as an oblivious black cloud, taking pleasure in others pain and enjoying causing them more, but that's how I felt when I left that meeting.
So I pack my bag, put on some leggings and switch into my Ugg boots. The weather had just dropped to that specific temperature where you can notice all the young girls in the city sporting similar uniforms. The sweatshirt to keep us warm, the leggings to make us sexy, and the Ugg's to keep us comfy. So I'm rushing to the bus in my particular change of season outfit when this man stops me. "Excuse me, which way is 2nd avenue?" I point in the direction him and assure him he's headed the right way. I smile and plan to keep on walking. But he stops me and looks down at my feet. "Excuse me, uhm, but, what size are your Uggs?" Needless to say this question surprised me. Taken off guard like this I answered the only way I knew how.
"Uhh, I don't know, I guess a 7?"
He seemed mesmerized and perplexed that these Ugg's could be a size 7. I wasn't sure where he was headed with this, maybe he wanted to buy a pair for someone?
"Really?! Wow, I mean...those are some sweet, SWEET Uggs."
Now, in my normal state, this would have been a weird comment. However, given my hyper-sensitive, super aware and extremely insecure state, coupled with the knowledge that Ugg's aren't the most popular fashion statement, I looked him square in the eye, face distorted in disgust and asked him point blank, "Are you making fun of me?" He quickly responded with a "No, no of course not!" But I didn't trust this lost stranger, who, if he did like my Ugg's, was a more discomforting quality than if he didn't. I was shaken for about 30 minutes after the episode. So New York, thank you for thoroughly creeping me out.