What Does My Bookcover Say?

In the past week, I've been forced to step back and think about what my appearance says about me. Do I come off as a simple bimbo? Does the fact that I have breasts mean I'm not capable of understanding technical details of thingies? And do I really give a shit what anyone else thinks? Particularly those who will discount me out of hand just by my appearance/gender/clothes/what-the-fuck-ever?

In one conversation with a young man (college age frat rat friend of neighbor's kid), I was trouble shooting iPods and  iTunes for the tween and the college kid while texting with my nieces from my phone at the same time. This young man looked at me, and in that sweet, sing-songy way of the young and entitled said "Oh, are you trying to learn technology?" I should be commended for not snapping back at him that I've been a systems administrator longer than he's been playing with his pecker, so I do understand a modicum of technology already, thankyouverymuch.

In another instance, spouse purchased a car (this being Texas, of course I mean 'truck' when I say car). The finance dude came out, shook his hand, and began his conversation about big, confusing details like what kind of terms were expecting for the loan. It wasn't until hubby said "This is my wife" that the guy acknowledged me and shook my hand. After which I proceeded to discuss simple vs. compound interest financing options, accelerated payment plans and early payment penalties, and returns on investments. 

So, what did my bookcover say about me to these men? That I don't get it because I'm a woman? Because I'm a blue-haired old lady (well, auburn with turquoise highlights)? That my bust size must be higher than my IQ? Or is it just that these guys had momentary lapses of judgment? 

If I were Miss Manners, I'd be tempted to say "Gentle Reader, be careful not to judge a book by its cover, because you may be missing out on a wonderful person with a terrific personality."  Seeing as I ain't Miss Manners, but Xara X. Xanakas, Brazen Texan raised in Redneck Country, I'll say "Careful climbing up on that high horse of yours, 'cause ya never know whose gonna knock you off it onto yer ass."

See, I carry my brains in my boobs, which accounts for the somewhat large 34F bra size. Conversely, these guys carry their brains in their pants, and I'm sorry to tell them that it appears there are no groceries in their baskets.

~xxx~