You Must Be a Biker

I have been a bit challenged with coming up with topics to write about lately. There has been plenty of stuff happening, I just haven’t found anything that would transfer to a blog very well. However, yesterday I went to Wal-Mart and was checked out by a large black woman named Tabitha. Tabitha provided me a lovely experience that could only happen in Wal-Mart that reminded me of a perfect topic to address on the internet…
Tabitha: “Oh, you must be a biker.”
Me: (look of confusion, consideration of what she means by “biker”) “Why’s that?”
Tabitha: “You’re glasses. They look like you [sic] a biker.”
Me: “Oh, ok. I’m not.” (starting to get a little annoyed because it’s Wal-Mart and for some reason all Wal-Mart employees check out items at the rate of 1 item per 10 seconds.)
Tabitha: “You one of those stern people. What you do? You a drill sergeant?”
Me: “Nope. I teach English and coach.”
Tabitha: “Oh, I could see that. You be screaming at those kids like ‘do this, go faster, do this.’”
Me: “Yah, I guess so.” (finally I’m waiting on my receipt, slowly starting to walk away)
Tabitha: “What kind of bike you got?”
This was the conversation I had as I was trying to leave Wal-Mart. The reason I found this intriguing was because A. Tabitha thought I drove a motorcycle because of the blue glasses I got in St. Martin (not exactly biker glasses) B. Tabitha asked me if I was a drill sergeant.
I get this type of question ALL of the time. I have random strangers tell me to “Smile” on a regular basis. People ask me if I’m “okay” all the time. My kids make sarcastic remarks about me looking “excited” about stuff. I don’t get this. I never think to tell someone to smile or cheer up or look excited. If they don’t look excited, they probably aren’t. Who am I to think that I should tell someone how to look? Also, I am confused as to why people ask me these things. No, I do not walk around with a big, goofy grin on my face all the time. On a regular basis, I am not generally happy. On a random Tuesday afternoon at Wal-Mart when all I want to do is go home, it doesn’t come naturally to me to smile at every human I see. I smile when I think something is funny. I don’t smile just because I am so delighted to exist that every moment I must grin. I have determined that my natural demeanor is not one of happiness. At the same time, just because I am not smiling, that does not mean that I am upset about something. It means I am indifferent. At Wal-Mart, I am indifferent. At work, I am generally indifferent. Early in the morning, I am ALWAYS indifferent. The look on my face is one of neutrality. I believe that if I smile all of the time, my smile will have less meaning. It’s like cuss words. I don’t cuss all the time. I save a few select cuss words for those moments in my life where I really need to make an impact. I don’t want to cry wolf with my smile. I figure I will save it for experiences that make me want to smile. So, no, I am not upset. And yes, I am okay. And no, I am not excited. I will certainly let you know when I am unhappy about something. I will also make a point to look happy when I am. All the rest of you smile-whores out there, stop asking me these weird questions.