Every Thursday morning, at 7:00 AM, a friend and I meet for coffee. We’ve become something of regulars, meaning we often hobnob with other regulars. Yesterday, one such regular made a beeline for me.
“Before I leave, there’s just something I’ve got to get off my chest,” he said.
A bit alarming, but okay…
The week before, you see, he mentioned my friend could grace the cover of a magazine. He said nothing of the sort to me. Apparently, the comment haunted him all week; he simply had to make sure he had not crushed my spirit.
Here’s the thing, my friend is always, always, prepared to stand-in for a cover shoot, should the need arise. The week before she had a large red flower in her hair . . . to meet a friend for coffee . . . at 7:00 AM. She did look as though she could grace the cover of a magazine. I, my friends, did not. Needless to say, the poor gentleman was all a-fret for naught. All the same, my friend decided to help.
Here’s how it went down . . .
Friend: Here’s what you need to know about Amy . . . Amy is a writer.
Me: {nodding solemnly} Yes, I’m practically expected to be frumpy.
Me & Gentleman: {chuckling amongst ourselves}
Friend: But if only you could read her words . . . her words are beautiful!
Me: My beauty, is my words.
Me & Gentleman: {chuckling amongst ourselves}
Friend: And here’s what you need to know about me: I was raised by two hair dressers; I’ve been in performance my whole life; I understand the importance of aesthetics.
Me & Gentleman: {awkward silence}
But oh the gift this conversation has given me, and every other writer, for that matter. Just think of the possibilities: caught in public without makeup; bad hair day; that weak moment wherein you think you’ll sneak out to get gas in your sweats, only to happen upon the man of your dreams. No longer do we have to slink off in silence. Oh no, my friends. We can stand up tall, look ’em in the eye and say, I’m a writer . . . and all will be well.
