Jolly Green Giant

On days where I'm feeling particularly confident, I emanate my "flirtation glow". Similar to a taxicab availability sign, or an animated idea bulb a cartoon character displays over his head, this light signals my being open to friendly banter. These interactions occur mostly when I'm wearing something snazzy or my hair hasn't been overtaken by Jew-fro. I'll strut down the sidewalk to a theme song in my head like "Who's That Lady" by The Isley Brothers, chin up, meeting the eyes of the people I pass by.

An attractive guy may smile at me and strike up a conversation, and I'll respond with something witty. Since I have my little glow going, and look like a Keebler elf, I'll come off as darling and charming...my cheeks reddened and facial expression gradually building from smirk to full-monty grin.

Of course these coquettish exchanges never develop into anything serious. They serve no purpose other than an instant ego boost for both parties, ending with a wink or a sly smile.

Yesterday I wore my favorite blue dress, which garnered a lot of positive attention, and caused me to dare I say, feel slightly haughty. I was full of positive energy and five cups of coffee, and found myself lingering in conversation with some cute male customers, feeling self-assured and effervescent. I began to notice how people seemed dazzled by my new found confidence, maybe even intimidated, since a guy I normally flirt with couldn't even maintain eye-contact with me. I felt like a celebrity.

When break-time came around, I went to wash my hands in the bathroom sink. As I lathered up, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and was immediately horrified.

There it was, in all its glory and splendor...a giant green snot stuck to the top of my nose.

This was no ordinary booger, or a small bat-in-the cave situation where someone needs to be looking up your nostril in order to see it. No, this mucus tumor was grotesque enough to play a villainous swamp monster in a Japanese horror film.

No wonder no one could make eye-contact with me, it looked like the Jolly Green Giant was fucking my nostril. And all the while I was strutting around the store as though it was a catwalk, yet it could have been a circus sideshow.

After a facial excavation, I returned to work, ego deflated like a punctured balloon.

Most days I hear how tired I look, or how I always have such a serious expression on my face and should smile more. How hard is it to say, "Hey Meredith, wipe your face!" Sheesh, people.