I think most of us are familiar with the walk of shame. The morning after a night out when you have to awkwardly shuffle home. Your hair might be tangled. Your mascara is everywhere but your eyelashes. You are wearing painfully high heels and a mini skirt on a Sunday morning. And of course, you will run into someone you know, and lie through your teeth about heading to the grocery store to get ingredients for pancakes. Because you always do your grocery shopping wearing glitter.
Maybe you personally never did the walk of shame, but odds are that you know someone who did.
I am allegedly an adult now. I have a standard office job, live in a nice apartment, and am a wife. Your typical "Walk of Shame" has not been a part of my life for many, many years. In recent months, I have found a replacement. My adult walk of shame, if you will.
Our apartment building is fortunate enough to have a door woman. She is awesome. She answers any building related inquiries we have. She carried countless wedding presents up to our apartment door. She constantly tells me how much she loves Rob and how lucky I am to be Mrs. Smith. But more on that another time.
She is also a bit of a chatty lady. I am also usually running late for work. This combination is not good. I try to rush out of the lobby with my head down or doing something "important" on my phone. I figure if I look super rushed, then she won't try to chat. This almost always works.
Without fail, at least once a week, I get across the street and realize I forgot something. It's usually something like an umbrella, my ipod, or socks for the gym. I don't really need these things or can find a substitute at work or CVS. Not worth going back home, or more importantly back by the door woman who saw me leave 2 minutes ago.
I got across the intersection this morning when it hit me that I had forgotten my lunch. Food is a different ballgame. I spent time putting together all the little bits and pieces for a healthy lunch and snack. Now they were sitting out on the counter going to waste. I thought about my poor little wedge of delicious Laughing Cow Cheese. Could I really let that go to waste?
Obviously I could not. Moments before, I had scurried across the intersection in front of my apartment trying to cross before the light turned green. Now I had to scurry quickly back where I came from. I am sure I confused a couple Boston commuters.
Then I had to walk back into the lobby. The door woman looked up from her paper with a confused look. I sheepishly mumbled that I had forgotten something, though I don't know why I felt the need to explain myself.
I quickly grabbed my lunch, wishing I had a cuter bag instead of my ratty plastic CVS bag. (I mean, if if I were a door woman, I'd want to know what someone rushed back for.)
I hung my head low and averted eye contact as I headed out the building for the second time that morning. Scurrying once again across the intersection. Everything about this maneuver screamed walk of shame to me. At least this time I am wearing sensible shoes.