Ugly is....

...as ugly does. Perhaps it is the recent consistent rain here in NYC that has dampened my mood, or perhaps I have simply grown weary of the following scenario:

Barbie walks into busy restaurant holding dripping umbrella as though it is venomous snake about to bite her, loudly interrupting all activity she looks at me and, indicating said umbrella, asks, "where should I put this?"

Now, folks, my initial reaction is nothing as charitable as the coat room. Yet, I cause myself to pause as not to be counter rude (or to blurt out what I am really thinking), excuse myself from the customers to whom I had been addressing, and take a breath to answer her. BUT, she misinterprets my hesitation as weakness, blood in the water, if you will. Storming down the hallway, she has the gall to fling her undesirables in the direction of the coat room.

Little does she know, because the restaurant is family owned and operated, she has just insulted the owner's sister, as opposed to one of us lowly trained organ grinder's monkeys in tuxes. I am often incredulous at the perceived self importance of some people, until I remember that these are the least happy people I encounter.

I refer to this woman as "Barbie" because of all the plastic she flaunts, in her cheekbones, breasts and (collagen) lips. I am NOT against plastic surgery or anything else that makes a person happy. The problem I keep finding is that it is no solution to what they seem to be redefining.

No matter how gorgeous a person is on the outside, if their soul is rotten no amount of designer clothes, shoes, handbags, colognes, jewelry, surgery, cars, homes, etc can mask the ugly that always manages to keep them wondering why the world isn't falling at their feet.

It's because ugly is as ugly does.