Uh, True Colors are Not Always Beautiful Like a Rainbow, Cyndi.

We are a judgmental bunch of hypocrites, and I hope we never change. Of course most of my favorite people aren't that judgy, and I really have to focus my energy away from growing as a person to catch them in an act of hypocrisy just so I can finally rub their faces in it. Unfortunately, I am not one of my favorite people. To use that tired, old expression from I believe the New Testament (don't quote me on that), "If you don't have anything nice to say, come sit next to me."

We're really good (horrible) at judging others but really, truly horrible (inept) at judging ourselves. We're constantly over or underestimating ourselves, and I believe it's impossible for us to be so self aware that we can predict exactly what we will say, how we will feel and what we will do when confronted with something unexpected.

Please don't worry. I'm not Aesop, and I'm not about to drop a fable. This is just a story about how I misjudged and completely *overestimated myself by judging someone else even though I was kind of right.

Ever since I suspected that my baby sister was braver than me, it's been very important to me to be seen as a courageous person**. I can't stand it when people accuse me of being intelligent or "not as bitchy as you look" or remarkably beautiful. I only really respond to, "I think you're brave."

I'd just splurged on an iPod shuffle because I was tired of being present while walking through the city and wanted to increase my chances of getting hit by a bus or robbed (because I'm brave). I was bee bopping along when I felt her running at me from 7 o'clock. I turned just as she started to kick my knees and shins while yelling something about something. I fended off the point of attack then raised my eyes to hers ready to get it on like a video game.

I'd seen her several colon twisting times before but never from that close, so instead of fightin' words, the only thing that came out of my mouth was a loud and terribly embarrassing scream-grunt that lasted for half a block of my block and a half sprint (probably at a record-breaking pace).

The woman has no nose. It's really unsettling because you can actually see into her head through the gaping hole in the middle of her face, and you're never prepared for it. This is how I felt in rapid fire order: shock/awe, terror, heightened terror, panic attack, super human speed, paranoia, asthma attack, relief, shame, extreme guilt, relief again.

Let's break down the last 4:
relief- She hadn't followed me.
shame- I'd always pictured myself as a fighter, but I was disappointed to learn that I'm a flighter. Judge it.
extreme guilt- I actually screamed in a human being's face because of what her face looks like, and I would judge you for not judging me for that.
relief again- Now I can be afraid of her because she once assaulted me and not because she can only leave the house one day a year without people going into hysterics. Judge me again.

Had you warned me that this was going to happen, I would've laughed and said you're not serious before I said, "Oh, you're serious. Okay. I would take her by the shoulders and say, 'Hey lady, you obviously don't have a nose and not having a nose must suck (something that maybe you can't do?) so hard, but you don't want to do this. I need my legs like you need a nose. I'll buy you a coffee, and we can talk about how you feel about not having a nose. I'm sorry I judged you before. Noses. Nose.'" But that's just the kind of person I wish I was and not who I actually am.

Maybe I'll do that next time?

Who needs parents when you could just read (I preferred to watch) this?

*I'm exceptional at overestimating myself.
**Pixar made a film inspired by me in 2012.