There are many articles on Body Dysmorphic Disorder; from what can cause it, to the lengths people go to in order to obtain that “perfect body”, to how our media contributes to this condition. In this post, I write about the thought process behind BDD.
Continue reading “Body Dysmorphic Disorder”
I spent my day off yesterday wondering how I would go back to work today. I was dreading it. I was wavering back and forth between panic and tears. Mr. Magick Man had his own list of things he wanted me to follow-up on for an upcoming trip he’s taking, too. I decided that was it. I can’t start my business, be someone’s personal assistant, cook dinner, and stand on my feet all day. But I wasn’t going to quit on Friday. I’d at least talk to the manager so they could find coverage for Saturday.
I went in and started my shift. I wasn’t happy to be there. All I could think about was how slow I was compared to everyone else. The store was opening and people started coming in. The Friday hoard invaded.
No one understands that you’re new on Friday. Everyone is in a hurry.
This one older guy walked in. He was probably no more than 10 years older than me, but his face really showed his age, y’know? He had a smile on his face and said he’d been looking for a bakery all morning. Considering it was only about 8:15am, he couldn’t have been looking very long… He seemed like a nice guy. He ordered a mixture of pastries and a few cinnamon rolls. These needed a larger box. The box I pulled would have fit, but I’d need to stack some of the pastries. Suddenly, Dr. Nice Customer turns into Mr. Hyde and says in this snippy voice, “Don’t stack them all in one box! Put them all in one layer. I don’t want them messed up!” So I get the longest box we have, which won’t hold all of them in one layer, btw, and start to box the pastries. I have 4 left over, and I start to get another box. Mr. Hyde then says, “Don’t you know anything?! Do I have to come back there and do it myself? Put them all in that box!” I then replied, “You said not to stack them. If I put them all in one layer, they won’t fit.” And he says, “Just put them all in that box. Do I have to come back there myself?”
That was the last straw. I asked one of the other employees to help him, because I was about to tell him I would love to see him behind that counter all day, on his feet, doing my job. I’d pay good money to see him working just one of my shifts while I bitched at him.
Instead, I quit.
Pride is a quiet being that lurks inside of all of us. It sneaks out sometimes, in the form of judgment, and we don’t even notice it. It stings. It makes us feel ashamed; make us hide things. It can bring us down and make us cry. We can even hate ourselves because of our own pride and mixed emotions we don’t understand. Continue reading “Pride”