THE PERIL OF HAVING BOURGEOIS TENDENCIES

Is that whenever you saunter into the "hood" you feel like a freakin idiot. This evening I realized I was out of sugar - and instead of driving to whole foods or acme with the long lines and endless temptations - i decided to head to save-a-lot. As soon as i pull up there are like five or six dudes just loitering outside the store. I fix my fire-and ice-grill (you know not too cold or too hot but just right) And proceed to walk into the store. I prepared myself for lewd comments but none were forthcoming. So that was good.

Wait...was it?

Now that im thinking about it, perhaps it wasn't. You see, whenever i go out, i must be cute. Yes i just said i like to be cute. Yes I was dead serious. I am a grown woman who wants to be attractive at all times, even to strangers who i have no intents on befriending . We can discuss the dichotomy of this at another time.

In my world, an evening at the supermarket requires the same prep time as night out for dinner and dancing. Maybe even more, cuz at the supermarket you're liable to see someone you know, and how tragic would it be for your blabby coworker to run up on you while you're looking raggedy and busted? You know, the coworker you tolerate, but really don't like. She's all hello, but sneakily looking you up and down because she perceives a chink in your normal diane-von-furstenberged armor. Then the gossip starts, innocently enough; "guess who i saw at target..." but becomes all whisper-down-the-lane and before you know it you're pregnant with a possible crack addiction. All because you forgot to moisturize your situation, walking out of the house with ashy elbows that you thought nobody would see because this was a "quick run". All because figured an oversized bleach stained t-shirt was acceptable shopping gear. All because you keep procrastinating on that pedicure. Oh yes, i have scenarios for days.

Typically my shopping ensemble goes this way, a nice pair of jeans that fit well and compliment my assets without being vulgar, a t-shirt that hugs the body without being tight and sensible shoes.

Let me stop. My shoes are never sensible.

Save for a few pairs of flipflops and my brokedown chucks - all of my shoes have sky high heels. Im short. I have a complex. Lemme 'lone. But check it, i know how to walk in heels. No really i do. One thing that really kills me is when i see some girl who can't walk in anything above an inch. It hurts me to my soul. You know how you see some the girls who walk with their whole upper body leaning forward, butt poked out, because they are trying to compensate for the uneven distribution of weight due to said heels? I can't stand that. If you're going to rock em learn how to wear them. This means you Ashanti.

And so i'm always mindful of what i'm wearing.

Don't get me wrong. Im not the chick who will roll up in whole foods or aldi or pathmark or winn dixie or piggly wiggly or whatever you got around your way -with four inch heels and a mini skirt, thinking i'm cute when really not and just looking like trash. Its not about looking sexy or alluring. I just like to be presentable and chic at all times.

Part of it may stem from my upbringing. You know how some women will leave the house in curlers or scarves(not the pretty ones but the wrap-your-hair-up-at-night ones) and slippers on their feet? That wasn't my mom. No way. She was always neat and tidy for a jaunt outside the house - no matter how brief. She made me and my sibs do the same. I remember my neighbor was outside in her pajamas early one saturday morning, eating cereal. I was soooo jealous because kia was allowed to sit on her front step and eat apple jacks in her pj's. I begged my mom for the privilege and was given a kind but firm "no." I had to wash my face, brush my teeth, and put on my decent play clothing before i set foot outside. Oh yeah, and "you will NOT be eating cereal on the porch. Each your frankenberries at the kitchen table."

So that carried over to me. Actually i'm a LOT more liberal than my mom ever was. I will wear my scarf out in public. Especially if its humid outside. No sense in having my hair puffing up before i get to my destination. If you tie it artfully enough, folks won't even realize that its your "head rag". It just looks like youre ethnically aware.

All that to say, I strive to be decently groomed at all times. Although apparently I wasn't on top of my game cuz i got no holla tonight. Nope not a one. What?! I'm not vain. I just like good feedback!

Anyways.

I walk in the store, first thing i see? This chick with a passel of dirty looking brats gathered around the doorway. Now she and her 5 kids were just standing there, blocking the entrance into the first aisle of the store. I waited there for a few seconds expecting her to move out of the way, but she didn't. I KNOW she saw me. Irritated i finally said; "EXCUSE me." Wow...that came out alot softer than i thought. Dare i say...almost timid? Boo. I'm so lily livered yall. She didn't acknowledge she heard me, but did move ever so slightly. She sized me up all right. My voice gave away my character. Yellow.

I rolled my eyes and squeezed between her and peanut an 'nem.

So i start walking through the store, browsing the aisles looking for the sugar, at the same time taking inventory of my surroundings. For starters the store is dirty. Now i know its save-a-lot so i don't expect the shopping experience of whole foods or some of your other gourmet markets, but come on. The floor looked like it hadn't been swept in ages. There were black skid marks from the shopping carts and dollies. Empty packing boxes strewn all over the place. It appeared that the management had no respect for their customers, given the disarray. "Yall are filth so you will shop in filth." SMH.

And then the people. From the woman and her kids at the entrance - to the workers on the floor - i found all of them to be rude and ill-mannered. There were two girls putting stock on the shelves, i mean i guess thats what they were doing, actually the were just standing there and talking. Every other word out of their mouth was an expletive. Color me old-fashioned, but i find that on-the-job profanity is not professional in the least. Especially if you have to work with the public. I'm not talking about going into your homegirl's office and telling her some bawdy tale in the privacy of those four walls, but cursing around people. Loudly. And whats worse children! Not the babies yall. Please don't cuss around the babies.

...And please, say the baby.

I'm not going to lie, my nose was turned up so high it was snowing on my brain. I couldn't wait to get out of there. I was going to ask one of the diva's in training where the sugar was, but decided not to interrupt their profane free-for-all. Fortunately there it was, the next aisle over. I grabbed it, and headed for the check out post-haste.

Lets discuss why save-a-lot had 5 registers but only one was open?? The line, which was non existent when i walked in the store, was now some 11 odd people strong. Of course. Isn't that always the way? I take my place in line, and start observing the people in front of me. A butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker. No, it was more like a crackhead, a wino, and a pimp. Not judging just saying. Oh and a sweet old lady.

Sweet old lady what are you doing here? Why are you alone? Its dangerous out here in these streets. Where is your family? What a sweet lady. Your grandkids should be helping you, you don't need to be carrying all them groceries by yourself. I should ask her if she needs a ride -

"These mother F#*!#$%'s need to hurry up! I don't have all F*#&%)@ing day. Why they only have one F%*^*#ing cash register open?!"

Well touch me in the morning and then walk away! Sweet old lady is that you?! My, what choice words are coming out of your mouth. Seriously you could have knocked me over with a feather. I had no idea I was in line behind ma kettle.

I'm looking at this 70+ year old woman aghast. She may look old, but indeed she had a tempest a-brewing in her. I daresay she was more feisty that i would ever be, and shame on me for ever doubting her ability to hold her own. I bet she wouldn't have had to wait on the partridge family to move out of the way at the front door.

Manager dude came out of his "office" out onto the floor. He pointed to me:

"You and the people behind you can get in this lane"

I guess he was observing us through the two-way mirror which - might i add - wasn't working correctly because i was able to see in almost as well as he could see out. But whatever, not my problem.

Sighing with relief i walked to his register.

Why did the hoochie behind me bust in front of me and get in line first??? It happened all so fast that for a second i was dumbstruck. I quickly got over it, and got in line behind her, my attitude written all over my face rude boys style.

I seethed for a second while he opened the register, wondering if i should say anything. On one hand I'm only the second person in line - and i really don't want any trouble. On the other, its the principle of the thing. I knew he pointed to me. So did she. Before i knew it the following words -dripping with sarcasm - were coming out of my mouth.

"Um...you do know he was pointing to me right?"

She turned around, her ratty yaki grazing her shoulders. Her bloodshot eyes sized me up.

"Excuse me?"

Oh see. Now i done did it. There's about to be an altercation and i'm gonna get beat down. All because i had to make a point. Why oh why? I couldn't just let it go? Of all the battles i fall back on i pick this one to charge ahead? Its gonna be like thermopylae except i won't be the victor.

"He pointed to me to get in line first."

"No he didn't."

Oh well, we can end the discussion here. Obviously her ocular power is greater than mine. Not to mention i'd like to get out of the store with all of my extremities functioning. I'm fully prepared to go out like a punk just so i can get out alive.

The manager came to my rescue.

"Miss" - he pointed to me - "you're next in line."

Weave girl: "But I'm in front of her."

"She was in front of you in the other line though."

Weave girl paused, like she was wondering if she should go on with the beat down or let it go. Apparently the latter suited her mood, she scooched over. Crisis averted.

I squeezed past her, my sugar gripped up like a hand grenade. I felt her eyes boring holes into my back as manager dude rang me up. Oh lord if she sucker punches me in the back of my head...

Manager dude asked me if i wanted a bag and i said no. I didn't want to wait the extra second it would take for him to get it. I paid for my sugar, and made my way out of the store expeditiously, trying to look casual even though i was shook.

I finally exited the store, and headed for my car. On the way home i decided to work on my thug mami persona.

What a weird experience.