Beauty is pain

The number of compliments that I get on this watch of mine is in every way proportional to its fantastical beauty. Just the other day, at Whole Foods no less, the cashier, who was the suave owner of great, flowing hair flattered my sense of style by declaring that my watch was wiiiiiild! Or at least, I took it as a compliment. He said it with such surprise that I sensed that it may have even offended him at first glance. Naturally that descriptive adjective causes me slight discomfort when used in my direction but I appreciated his interest. I was tempted to return the praise but I refrained from frantically declaring: Thanks your hair is WILD too. It was so silky… People with great hair probably live better lives than the rest of the world. They don’t even need to be that attractive because society perceives great hair as a rarity that forgives any shortcomings. If you think about it, a majority of the population has bad hair. I, myself, would categorize myself as the bridge that brings the two worlds together. Yes! I am the mediator that allows these two opposites to converse peacefully without inflicting churlish judgment. Without me this world would be polarized, I tell you! Society sees my hair and either mourns the unattended potential or rejoices in the valiant effort. Depends, depends…

But I digress, this fashionable watch, while rare in form but profuse in popularity, has caused me great unwarranted social grief. This watch is a conversation starter. And in my opinion, conversation starters only lead to personal damage and remorse. I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation with a stranger that I have not regretted in some way. I leave each conversation a more miserable human being.

And I say that quite befittingly with a furrowed brow and a wicked cynicism far beyond my years.