There I was, innocently standing and minding my own business when all of a sudden my hair was ripped off and I was accosted for no good reason! Ok, I wasn’t actually accosted and my air wasn’t damaged in anyway but it felt like it. Last night I was standing in the line at Woolies waiting patiently to pay for my extremely unnecessary groceries that I just had to have. The line was surprisingly long and pretty slow and all around me I could hear the chattering of business woman, mothers and irritable children.
There were two women and their kids standing just behind me complaining about how hot it was and how their armpits were sticky. I moved just a little bit forward at that remark. Anyway, they get to talking about shampoo and hair products and eventually to hair. I lost track of the conversation when all of a sudden the one woman leans over and strokes my hair. “You’re right!” she exclaims to her annoying friend, “It is actually soft.” I’m dumbfounded.
Her other friend then proceeds to start running her fingers through my hair and finally includes me in this very bizarre conversation. I jerk my head backward and she just stretches out a little further. Apparently they were discussing the merits of Indian hair extensions vs Brazilian hair and they decided that since they conveniently had an Indian woman standing in front of them they’d check out the texture and judge for themselves! Never mind that woman in India have very different hair texture to the Indians in SA, but they didn’t think the climate differences had any sort of impact.
Is it just me or is this weird? My bestie says I’m ‘closed in’, whatever that means. But I think that it’s weird for total stranger to just starting touching me! You could have at least asked me and I probably would’ve have agreed because I felt pressured. I mean, I have no idea where you’re hands have been, under your sticky armpits for all I know! I was grossed out and was so happy when they stopped caressing my hair. This one guy in front of me kept looking at us and I felt that we were on the verge of a very strange porn movie! I went home and immediately washed my hair!
Something similar happened to me over the weekend. I called our landlady to complain about a few niggles that needed to be sorted. She sent over her husband to come and fix everything up and he was busy pottering in the house while I lay on my bed reading. Now, to get into my en-suite you have to come past the bed. I was pretty engrossed in my alien hero fighting off ancient Egyptian gods when I feel something tickle my feet. Can you imagine my surprise when the handyman walks past chuckling to himself! Hello! You just tickled my feet for goodness sakes! How is that normal!
The tickling of my toes, or any other part of my anatomy, is reserved strictly for my husband. Oh, and my sisters and their kids because I like them but no one else! I don’t care if you’re my handyman, post man or the man ogling my hair in Woolies! And just for the record I’m a very affectionate person. I’m one of those that always like to have physical contact, from a hug to a touch on your hand to a slap on your arm. My friends and family know this about me and they accept it.
Am I just being overly sensitive here?