Willy Wonka is not the only person who scared me in the '70's.

When I was in middle school or junior high, I don't recall which, there was this girl. We'll call her Helga, for dramatic story telling purposes. Helga worked at a little burger joint called Burger 5. Helga used to make endless jokes at my expense each time I stopped by to eat. Looking back, I think she did this to everyone, but at the time I could not figure out why she hated me so much. She was a few years older, so I guess I thought she hated over-weight, plainly dressed girls that liked french fries. This ridicule lasted for years. Even after B5 closed, if I saw her anywhere, inevitably she would point and laugh at anything I was doing or wearing. I avoided her at all costs.

I had all but forgotten about Helga, until yesterday. Now, I have mentioned to a few close friends my somewhat ridiculous fascination with the spray on tan thing. No...I don't do it, my fascination lies with those that OVER- DO it. So, how ironic this next little event would prove to be!

As I drove down Water Street approaching the Spray Paint Tan place, my attention was assaulted by first- an orange glow, second - what looked to be a rooster sitting atop a woman's head (turns out it was the 80's mall-hair spray thing), and third - a very large woman dressed in tight black spandex leotards and a bright pink t-shirt. These were not separate people though - this hot mess was all taking place on ONE person. Yepp. It was Helga! I couldn't look away as she stuck her key into her Ford Explorer. When I got next to her - our eyes locked. She knew it was the fat kid who liked fries - and I knew it was the nasty girl behind the counter. There she was in all her spray-on, glow-tan glory!

Only now, it was very different. She seemed to cower somehow and looked quickly away from me in what I can only describe as embarrassment. For a moment, I felt sorry for her. My impression was that of someone struggling to hang on to the past. I think she might have been a very good looking lycra wearing, tan person with big hair in 1987. But now - she is simply clinging to that identity and in her mind it equates beauty and popularity somehow. (Yes, I got all of that in the 7 second drive by.)

I felt no satisfaction by seeing her this way though and I am grateful for that. But, before I walk away tonight, puffed up in my realization I have no ill wishes towards Helga for chipping away at my self esteem AND that I took zero pleasure in seeing her so uncomfortable in her own skin (no spray-on pun intended)...Here it is:

And that's all I got to say about that.