I live in a town where you are on a first name basis with the bank teller. It’s not Mayberry, but close. She gives out lollipops and knows how many kids I have. I am guessing she doesn’t have any children. I say this because she gives a different lollipop to each of my three children. Why don’t you just punch me in the head? It would be less painful than listening to them whine over who gets the red one.
I don’t interact with her outside of our drive-thru banking relationship. In fact, I’ve never seen her around town. Perhaps the bank is holding her captive?
Well, today my bank teller gave the usual required bank greeting. Then, she did a double-take. A look of disbelief shown on her face. “You look skinny. Have you lost weight?” Now, who doesn’t want to hear that? I giggled as I described my new exercise regime, “I have been running.” A minute passed when suddenly her compliment gave me pause. The only part of my body visible to her is the upper part of my torso and head. How could she tell I lost weight? My face doesn’t look that much different. Did I have shoulders like a line backer? Did she find the fat hanging over my bra strap revolting? Was my friendly bank teller judging me all along? I hope she doesn’t think less of me for buying that shake weight from the TV infomercial. I pulled away feeling less confident than when I pulled in. I also had a raging headache thanks to the complimentary green, orange and red lollipop.
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