Oh Super (market) Man!
This morning I dragged my weary bones to an early morning Iyengar yoga class. I felt like I did in the 11th grade- wanting to go, but not wanting to go to school. Once there, mat down, sacred spot claimed, and accoutrement gathered, I began to relax and gave myself over to the teacher. My class is not full of young nubile, anorexic, bendy-flexi bodies; it is full of relaxed, and funny middle-agers. We have all come to terms with the fact that our bodies will do some things but not others. What looks positively simple becomes totally confronting and complicated. I’m okay with this.
What I do immediately after class can make or break my day, so I usually go to the market. It is too early for the lunchtime crowd, too late for the high-school kids, but just right for me. The aisles are vacant except for the odd shopper such as myself…and you know who.
This being an “off” day (for Supermarket Man) I assumed I was safe to wander the aisles at a leisurely pace, calm in my absurd outfit (yoga Capri pants, flip-flops & lightweight jacket which covers my booty. I am not one of those yoga jackass’s who freely walk the planet in yoga gear leaving nothing to the imagination. I just can’t do it.)
Once again as I approached the Meat section, there he was. (By the way, why would a chef begin in the Meat section, and end his shopping in Produce? Shouldn’t it be the other way around so that the meat does not change its temperature too drastically? Is it an English thing or a secret Chef thing? Just wondering.) So there he was right smack in front of me as if appearing from thin air. It’s kind of odd actually. His visage never ceases to shock me.
As I’ve said before, he is not handsome in the GQ model sense, a tad rough around the edges but with clothing that is too nice to be an afterthought. Even the Venice Originals shirt is somehow dressy on this guy. Perhaps it is his posture? Today he wasn’t wearing a jacket; his mauve colored, short-sleeved t-shirt showed both forearms covered in tattoo’s…that again manage to look elegant. Yes, I think that’s the word I’m looking for: elegant. There is nothing trashy looking about him, at least from afar. I haven’t gotten close enough to check his teeth and nails, although today I noticed he was chewing his nails at the butcher counter. I probably would have done the same if I hadn’t had a cup of coffee in my hand.
The reason I want to write about Supermarket Man has not changed. It is a visual highlight of my week. It makes me happy. There is beauty about this person and I appreciate it, I don’t need to have it, I just want to admire.
Oscar Wilde had a bit to say about beauty:
Things are because we see them, and what we see, and how we see it, depends on the Arts that have influenced us. To look at a thing is very different from seeing a thing. One does not see anything until one sees its beauty. Then, and then only, does it come into existence
I imagine Oscar would have something to say about actually meeting this person…and being severely disappointed. This is why I do not need to possess.
With Supermarket Man’s back to me I could see that he is physically fit by the way his shirt hung on his shoulders, this is what a friend of mine calls “the flying V”, an incredibly sexy thing on a man (in my opinion), and is quite common in surfers. Now before you say that I am undressing him with my eyes, get your mind out of the gutter and simply follow me with the idea of “beauty”.
If I were a man and he a woman I would probably approach and tell of my admiration…but I’m not; I’m an awkward, goofy woman who would turn bright red and possibly pass out because I’d stopped breathing. But wouldn’t it be nice to tell a stranger how pleasant they are to look at without them thinking you strange?
Ah well, I had no fear today as I nearly brushed against him while reaching for a can of cannellini beans. I didn’t really care what I looked like, I was just happy he was there. I did almost run out of the aisle crashing into the canned goods but managed to escape unscathed.
Luckily, Bakery Girl was not working today. I fear she is an angry one. I keep my distance from her since she yelled across the bagels to a much older man: “SHE’S SINGLE!”
- FitSugar says: Choose a Yoga Class That Fits Your Personality (self.com)
- Abbott’s Drivel Continues (cafewhispers.wordpress.com)