Featured Zones

I felt like someone had just whistled at me.
by: Helena
I was just standing there my hands deep in chicken thighs when I felt I was being watched.

I had just stopped by Krogers afterwork to pick up something for dinner. I was rooting around in the poultry area deciding between lean chicken cutlets and deboned and skinless thighs for a stir fry, when I saw him peering at me from the cereal aisle. He was a distinguished man in his mid to late thirties with the early accents of salt and pepper trimming on the edges of his hairline. I know he saw me catching that distant gaze in his eyes, so he strolled by saying that it was nice to "see a beautiful young business woman impeccably dressed and sporting a pair of heels". I smiled and proceed to the produce department.

I have been to this supermarket a thousand times. No one had ever made any comments like that to me before. Now, I must make note that I am usually more causual. Okay usually I am in sweats and my hair may have that pulled back into a scrunchie combless look. So my appearance here at Kroger fresh from the office is rare. Do I really look that different?

While standing in the checkout line, I caught myself rubbing the missing band on my finger. Panic settled in around my shoulders. Am I being noticed merely because I took the time to look nice or does the missing tan on my ring finger speak volumes? Does my look scream freshly divorced? Can everyone here see that I am alone? Can everyone here know that I am lonely.

The checker's question of debit or credit snapped me from my momentary haze. I paid for my purchase and walked to the parking lot. Before starting the engine, I took the time to look at myself in the rear view mirror. There was no scarlet letter on my forehead. There was only a woman with deep brown eyes looking forward in the mirror. She looked confident in her navy pen stripes with the slight hints of rouge dabbing at her cheeks. She did not look lonely at all.

It has been a long time since any one mentally or physically whistled at me. Perhaps, I had been to busy notice. Perhaps, I did not project an image to be noticed. I started the engine, vowing to take more care in deciding what face I showed the world.