Some things just strike me as ridiculous.  Though I can typically find a strand of the ridiculous in most anything without trying too awful hard.  One day this summer while in a tourist beach town with my sisters, I was standing up against a wall waiting in line with my sister for the bathroom to become available.  Going through a divorce at the time I decided to do what I hadn't really done in 25 years, not just glance at a man (ok you do that when you're married at least if you're human and have a pulse), but meet his gaze and keep it.  Standing by my sister a very good looking, athletic sort of man walked by and looked right at me intently in fact.  Wow, I thought this whole not turning away from a man's gaze is really working.  I was feeling invigorated and upon entering the bathroom with my sister she said, "Lynn, that man was extremely gorgeous and he was looking right at you.  Did you notice?  I mean did you notice that he really was looking at you?"  About the same time she is telling me these words I step in front of the bathroom mirror.  Oh, it suddenly dawns on me why the intent gazing was occurring.  I mean, here I mistakenly thought that after 25 years of marriage I still had it.  Oh I had it alright and giggled!   I, with quite a bit of shaking my head and laughing, reply to my sister, "Yep I think I know why he couldn't take his eyes off me.  I believe he was enjoying seeing the results of having a tight fitting spandex running tank top with no bra on in an overly frigidly cold air conditioned restaurant!"  What the hell!  Just when I thought I had the whole package, that man was only looking at one part of it:)   The words "what the hell" are the only situational fitting words that describe the fashion faux pas of a beret being worn on non-military personnel or pretty much anyone other than those who are part of the Green Berets, certain segments of the military, and possibly small children who are dressed up like dolls by their over eager fashion hungry mothers.  Waiting again in a restaurant with my eldest sister a man in a beret on walks by our table.  I cannot help but stare and out loud before I think, say to my sister, "What the hell is wrong with that man! Why would a person wear a beret?  Why?"  I told her to write down the word "beret" in her little magic notebook she keeps in her purse.  I wanted to remember to extol in print my hatred of the beret worn by anyone other than military personnel or by the character known as Rerun on the show, "What's Happening!".  A few days ago I went out for a run, like I do most days.  As I ran by this particular house I see a man with a dog on a lease out for a walk who has stopped to visit with the owner of the house.  I run by and do my usual waving of my hand and a quick hi.  I see this man later on my way back home as he is now walking his rather large dog.  As I near him he says, "Hey, do you need a running partner because I can leave my dog at home and join you."  What the hell!  What kind of pick up line is that.  I reply, "Thanks, but I'd rather take the dog with me:)"  Tonight on my drive home from work a semi decides to pull out in front of me when I am going 50 mph through an intersection.  I lay on my horn, slam on my brakes and have to go on the right shoulder of the road around him to avoid slamming into his truck.  I get around him and raise both arms and shake my head with a "what the hell!" look plastered across my face and oozing out of every pore in my body.  Outdoor gazing balls and geese statues that people dress up seasonally and place on their porches are two things that no matter how many times I drive, walk, bike or run by them I say either out loud or in my head, "what the hell".  Seriously who spends money on that and then honestly thinks it is beautiful and places it strategically in their outdoor decorating treasure chest!   I also sometimes say the words "what the hell" about myself.  Over the weekend I was trying on this seemingly very cute blue cotton thin summery dress (I know people calm down at this very moment - yes, it was a dress!).  It seemed low cut (which is troubling for a 34 barely A-cupper), but hey I'll give it a whirl.  I pull it over my head and turn and face the mirror where the first words out of my mouth alone in the dressing room were, "what the hell!"  I do realize I have the upper body of a 13 year old and my four lane highway is probably putting it mildly, but come one.  The front of the dress came below the bottom of my breasts with a very wide V cut.  Seriously I would have had to put double stick tape on my boobs to keep the dress from moving.  Who wants to see wide open lanes of traffic where there should be cleavage on a middle aged woman?  What the hell is wrong with those dress designers:)

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