I have a confession to make. I’m a judger.
I don’t judge you when you make a mistake on stage, when you trip while walking in a straight line, when I meet your crazy family, when you accidentally snort while laughing … No, I can’t judge on anything that I have already done and beside, they are beyond control.
But I feel free to judge people who do stupid things that are entirely within their control. For instance:
This is the definition of lazy. You can’t get yourself motivated to walk up 15 stairs? It’s not that hard. It’s just like walking, one foot in front of the other but on an uphill slant. Try it. You might find the size of your a** shrinks. I feel guilty whenever I take the elevator up three flights of stairs because I’m making the rest of the people on the elevator wait.
The Comb Over
Bald men everywhere take note: accept your male pattern baldness and take pride in your lack of hair. Comb overs look funny on everyone. Especially in the wind. Although, I did see one yesterday that was unflappable. I don’t know what kind of glue he used to keep his long hair stuck to his head, but it didn’t budge a millimeter which was especially impressive because we had wind gusts up to 30 miles an hour .
Also, I have no idea why this guy isn’t wearing pants.
I passed a whole gaggle of women wearing adorable but impractical high heels today. At the rate that they were walking it would take them an hour to go two blocks. And they were complaining about their feet hurting.
Ladies! Save your feet. Wear flats! Even if you wouldn’t be caught dead in my Merrills, at least wear a ballerina flat. And when you ride your bike in high heels, you must have a death wish. Have you considered what would happen if your heel got caught in a spoke?
I try really hard not to judge groups of people that I know nothing about. Such as parenting. But sometimes, the problem just seems so obvious. Like that time we saw a mother feeding her 6 month-ish child Cheetos.
And the time I went into a burger joint and watched a whole family down two double-stacked burgers each plus fries. Including the young children. And they had all picked off the lettuce and tomatoes.
Or the guy who only ever eats McDonald’s. It’s not an entire food group. Heck, it’s not even a food group member!
I heard someone refer to them as Chuggers (Charity Muggers). And then seem to be everywhere now that the weather is warming up. I can’t judge the individual because it’s a job, and in this environment, it might have been the best job they could get.
But I can judge them as a collective group as well as the organizations behind them. They ask you such uncomfortable questions. “Do you care about the environment?” and “Do you care about saving lives?” If you answer yes, then you are subjected a decade long sales pitch and if you answer no, then you just feel like an a**.
The best response came from my darling husband. When asked if he cared about the environment, he responded with a question of his own, “Do you care about finance?”
Actually, this one might be more of a pet-peeve then something worth judging… But I’m leaving it in there because it’s still true!