The Laziest Girl In Town.

The day was sul sticky.
Today I did the late afternoon dog walk in a sort of light open cardigan to cover the scary contrast of my farmer tan. (Well almost tan but really still more burn. The pain is gone, the pink remains.) I had talked myself into a sports bra and tank top with jeans around the house even though the rain makes me feel cozy and I want to wear blankets, even though it's too warm. Ridiculous. No the tank was perfect, and even though the cardigan had long sleeves it was a loose weave linen and left open it let some breeze blow in, which felt nice. Girl did her thing. She likes to have the homegirls hanging out at the community museum garden up the street pet her head, as long as they are not smoking. Whatever language the girls happen to be speaking that day, I always hear them say "blue tongue" in some mixed phrase because Girl is a small black Chow Chow and there are not too many around Zurich. We did a slow mile circuit through the neighborhood and I was feeling chic and fully relaxed, right up until the end, aluminum coffee mug in one hand, extendo leash in the other. Hair casually up, adorable exotic doggy.
Then this tall woman about my age all in dark green (like a pantsuit!) crosses the crosswalk about half a block from home; She is pushing a deep black pram. From the gurgling I think the babe facing her was awake. As we passed each other her eyes were not on her babe, but on me. Her face turned toward mine, me giving her my most open and neighborhoodly non-toothy but just casual-slight-nod smile. Her face read "I am taking a dump in my own pants right now but cannot stop." or maybe not exactly. She looked horrified, in that difficult-to-disguise-though-trying way? She just had so much tension in her face! She did not return my slight-nod-smile AT ALL.
I noticed when I got on the elevator at home that I may have been sweating a bit more than I realized. It's not that my clothes were damp or anything, it is just that my whole face and neck and sternum appeared to be covered in melted butter. I think that woman is just one of those women who never sweats, and found it shocking and uncomfortable that I was.
I sweat a bit even when cold. It is healthy but not so attractive. I remember one of the snooty trainers in a smalltown Curves daintily handing me a Kleenex during an early morning session. Charmed, I am sure.
But you know maybe I am misinterpreting that woman's expression. Maybe she was just had a rock in her shoe, or was embarrassed about the pantsuit, though I thought it looked okay. Maybe she was just suddenly confused and surprised to find her almost forty self with a chestnut Marilyn shoulder length hairdo, a pantsuit and wedges, pushing possibly her own baby in a pram up a low grade hill in Switzerland one day in the early twenty-first century.
We all have our problems, and our days.