Saturday, December 13, 2008

For the Saskatonians...

There's a kiosk in Midtown right now, called "[Can't remember the name]'s Natural Beauty" or something to that effect. It's on the second floor, outside that Capz store that's in the sort of middle area. Know the kind of region I'm talking about? (Sorry I can't be more specific, but I hope that's descriptive enough.)




DO NOT SHOP THERE.



I'm serious. I was walking around the mall today, trying to get ideas for the last couple of gifts I have to buy. I approached this kiosk, wondering what they were selling. Almost immediately, one of the staff members grabbed my hand, saying, "I want to show you something." I was kind of in shock and didn't immediately jerk away.

Now, it should be noted that my hands aren't "pretty." I do manual labour, for one thing, and even if I wanted to have my hands look a certain way, I just don't have time for that. When I do put on nail polish or something, it usually ends up chipping off fairly quickly. I have callouses and dry skin and cuts on my hands from newspapers, plastic, and occasional accidents with a utility knife. But you know what? I love my hands. They're functional and strong and accomplish amazing things, and while they may not be conventionally pretty, I think they're fucking beautiful.

Anyway, this guy proceeds to take the nail polish off one of my nails, saying he's going to show me how this product works. While he's putting this oil stuff on that nail, he gestures at the rest of my hand and says, "That's freakin' nasty."

Um, excuse me? First you touch me without my permission, then you call a part of my body NASTY? I still didn't just pull away, because I was so fucking stunned. I let him finish his little demonstration, then quietly thanked him like a fucking moron and wandered away in a fog, trying not to cry. Of course, halfway across the mall I sort of pulled my brain together and reported the incident at the Customer Care Centre. I thought about going back and giving him a talking-to, but decided against it.

The end result is that I'm (a) totally ashamed of myself for not reacting faster to that bullshit and (b) surprised at how much it hurt for some stranger to call my awesome and functional hands "nasty." Mostly a, though. I feel like a jackass.

Anyway, for real, don't shop there. Bad fucking news.

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