This story, folks. This story, I swear is true. And it all happened because I went against my morals.
I went to Wal-Mart.
You all know how I feel about The Mart, right? I wrote them a letter not too long ago, detailing how much and why I loathe them from the deepest pit of the place where my heart would be, did I have one.
Anyhow, I went early this morning, and for the most part, I had an uneventful shopping excursion. I needed things like sunscreen and shampoo, and a few foodstuffs for homegroup, so I went. I went to a place where I knew I shouldn't go.
Stupid, stupid Carrie. Listen to yourself, girl. You give yourself very good advice, but you very seldom follow it.
So the story. I'm putting the groceries in the back of my Sequoia, when this woman I've never seen before approaches me, calling me, among other things, the 5 letter B word that rhymes with witch. Weird, right?
Wait. Let me back up. Have I ever told you how I look familiar to just about everyone I meet? I can't tell you how many times that someone has told me that I remind them of their sisterauntniececousinfriend. It happens ALL THE TIME.
Right. That little piece of my life escaped me when this strikingly large, Amazonian type woman of mixed race came at me with a finger pop and a head bob, calling me names and threatening (and I'm giving you direct quotes, here) to, "...kick my ass," and "snatch me baldheaded."
Now, folks, I might talk a mean game, but truthfully, I'm a pacifist. And a wimp. And other than 45 minutes on the elliptical 5 times a week, I'm completely out of shape. This woman was taller than me by a foot. There was no way that the short, chubby out of shape girl could even outrun her. Besides that, I was completely shocked. I'm sure my eyes were as big as saucers, and I was just standing there in my yoga pants and flip flops, holding a plastic sack full of sunscreen and shampoo.
This woman had really hit her stride verbally, and she was going on to question my parentage, when the guy behind her says quietly, "Hey, baby, that ain't her."
The woman doesn't even look at him. She snarls at me and says, "Is yo name Denise?"
I had been, up to this point, considering throwing the sack of sunscreen at her face and making a break for it, but I decided to answer her question.
I said with a great deal of relief, "No."
To which she replied skeptically, "Well you sho do look like the [5 letter B word that rhymes with witch].
The couple then walked on by and into the store, without so much as an apology or a by your leave.
I didn't really expect one.
And to my doppelganger, the elusive Denise: honey, I don't know who you are or what you did to this woman, but you better bob and weave, sister. And pray to keep your hair. And if you see her, run in the other direction. 'Cause the woman meant business.
Lord, have mercy. Save me from the crazy people.