This post was born when I decided to write a post about the joys of red lipstick. Well, it’s funny how things happen and you end up writing about something, but it’s rather different from what you had originally planned.
Hello, my name is Gill and I’m a horrible liar.
This is how the story goes:
It was a Friday. My kindly in-laws had offered to come over to mind the children to give me an hour off so I could do some admin.
The minute they arrived, I vamoosed. I grabbed a takeaway flat white and then I whipped over to Kmart to buy a bunch of crap that I don’t need (as you do sometimes). There were no trolleys available and I had to use one of those blue baskets on wheels (mind-numbing detail, I concur, but trust me it is important to the story).
I exited via the self-service checkout. As I was leaving, because I didn’t have a trolley, I was struggling. I had a bag and a huge plastic bucket with a lid that kept falling off, and an armful of other stuff. I looked down to make sure I had everything and realised my empty coffee cup was sitting down there in the basket. I thought, “Bugger it, can’t be arsed”. It was in the too hard basket (ha ha ha!).
The sour person that was ‘helping’ at the ‘self-service’ checkout (incidentally, it isn’t bloody self-service, the amount of times I had to get someone to swipe their whatsit because of a bag problem or something or other), picks up the basket and shoves it rudely at me as I’m leaving and says, “Is this your coffee?”
I yell defensively, “NO, it was there already!” and flounce out the door. I don’t like the suspicious way she is looking at me and then looking at the cup. She’s really looking at me like I’ve got a problem. I can feel her eyes boring into my back as I walk out.
As I leave I’m thinking: God she was pretty psycho over nothing…She didn’t even know it was me…But why did I do that? I’m so lazy…I should’ve just put it in the bin…Why did I lie? I’m such a bad liar… I looked so suss…Oh anyway, who cares, it’s a minor thing…No, it’s not minor, it’s the principle of the matter…I was very rude…Oh, WHATevs…
So I hurry to the car, trying to escape my bad behaviour and shame. I chuck my remorse-stained purchases in the car. As I’m reversing out, I catch a look at myself in the rear vision mirror. And then it hits me. Oh. Gosh.
It wasn’t my shifty demeanour that had Ms Kmart dubious of me.
It was the red lipstick. Two coats of bright scarlet applied an hour earlier. And of course smeared thick as crayon, the kiss of a nasty liar, all over that blasted takeaway coffee cup.