Ah, To Be Young and Racist

Today, I was walking around downtown, minding my own damn business, until I came upon a WASPish mother and son standing on a street corner. Suddenly, the boy catches a glimpse of me, his rosy cheeks ablaze. Tears start running down his beautiful blue eyes. My god, am I really that beautiful?, I thought to myself for a moment.

Nope. He started yelling seconds later, pointing at me with his stubby little fingers and screaming "Mommy! Animal! Animal!" Man, I thought, looks like bigot training starts earlier and earlier these days. The mom turned and looked at me. She gave me an "I'm so sorry" look and tried to quiet her child. I was about to give that little Hitler a piece of my mind, but I just kept walking, disgusted that the Aryan Pride movement is still going strong. (Unfortunately, the skin cancer epidemic hasn't reached its peak yet in wiping out their breed, especially when their shaved heads and basic uniform of remaining bare-chested all day long to show off their latest swastika tattoo makes them susceptible to it).

I sound tough, but I was a little hurt. Tears were welling up in the rim of my eye, and I had to run to the bathroom to clean myself up, and possibly whip myself a few times with my gym towel to punish myself for being born brown. That is when I looked in the mirror and saw this:



I totally forgot that I was trying out faux fur today because the whole animal print thing didn't work out for me so well. And yes, little boy, I did look like an animal. I'm so sorry for calling you a bigot and a young Hitler. It was only in my head, but still. I'm sorry.