At The Coop
September 2nd, 2010When I turned the corner into the bread aisle, a grandmotherly woman was leaning on her cart, examining that day’s baguettes. She turned around to see me reach for a loaf, and her hands went to her face.
“Oh! Oh oh!”
I looked up.
“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that your dress is incredible. And you look incredible in it.”
“Thank you!”
“You look just like we did in the ’40s. Just like we did. Incredible. That dress. And your body is just . . . perfect for it.”
“Thanks.”
We shared an uncomfortable moment where we both realized she was staring at my chest. (Falsies, ma’am: this bra doubles my cup size. The things we do for darts.) “You have a wonderful body,” she said.
“. . . Thank you!”
“You haven’t been eating that corn syrup, have you?”
My face was getting warm. “I uh, well you know, I try not to . . . ”
“Well it shows. I applaud and commend you! Just amazing!” Then she leaned in, whispered conspiratorially, “you know, when you get old, you can say whatever you want to anyone you want to.”
