Karmic Consequence
On weekend afternoons when Ryan and I find ourselves finished with housework and want to get out for a while, we go down to our local mall, buy coffees, and people watch. But we don’t just watch; we comment. And judge. We’ve gotten so good at this social observation that we find ourselves doing it constantly. I mean really, who doesn’t get a good laugh out of the lady with the hot pink belly shirt with far too much belly for the shirt? Or the teenage couple who haven’t heard that mowaks went out in the ’80s. Or how about the young girls are are shopping for boys more than clothes? Admit it, you at least make fun in your head.
It occured to me the other day that eventually I am going to be the woman who gains a few sizes when my metabolism catches up, I’m going be an older person trying to dress young, I’m going to be caught picking my nose while driving some day. See what I’m saying? And really, would I appreciate people judging me like that? Probably not.
Karma will come back to bite me in the ass some day, but until then, the guy with the jeans hanging around his knees is fair game.
