If there’s one thing I’ve
learned in my forty-three years on this planet, it’s that you cannot judge a
book by its cover…especially when the proverbial book is a human being. The biggest, burliest, scariest dudes often
have the softest hearts and most tender souls.
The roughest, rugged, tattooed-from-head-to-toe women often have the
sweetest, gentlest spirits. The person
that you sit next to in a classroom or on the bus, the one you secretly judge
based solely on their appearance, could become your best friend…if only you
could lay the pre-judgments aside and look beyond the exterior.
It isn’t easy to
do. Our culture is so exterior driven
that judging people on first appearance has become an acceptable reflex; but
just because something is acceptable doesn’t make it wise or right.
I was sitting in a
Starbucks the other day with my laptop and coffee, and I couldn’t help but
overhear a conversation between two ladies at a table adjacent to mine. A man and a woman had entered the coffee shop
at the same time and these ladies were trying to figure out if they were a
couple or entered simultaneously as a mere coincidence. The man was tall, handsome, dressed in a
business suit and had gray hair. I would
guess him to be in his mid-fifties. The
woman had brown hair that was dyed blonde, was thin and attractive and wore a
flowered skirt, light blue spaghetti strap top and white sandals. I would guess her to be in her late twenties. In a matter of moments it was
obvious that the two had arrived together, as the woman looped her arm in his while
standing at the counter.
This is the
conversation I overheard:
“Look at them,” Lady
one scoffed. “That’s disgusting. She’s too young for him.”
Lady two casually
glanced over her shoulder and gave an eye roll.
“How do you know they’re together?”
“He’s holding her hand!” Lady one appeared very upset, to the point
that I began to wonder if perhaps she knew this man and knew the story behind
he and the younger woman. “It makes me
sick!” She barked. She went on to tell Lady two that the man was
wearing a wedding ring and the younger woman was not.
“What can you do?” Lady
two shrugged. “She’s obviously with him
for his money and you can see why he’s with her.” She cupped her hands near her own breasts to
indicate the young woman was well endowed, which instinctively made me dart my
eyes to the young woman’s chest and analyze the size of her boobs. They were nice, as far as breasts go, not
overly large, not overly small. They were perky but didn’t look fake and she
certainly wasn’t flaunting them. I
found it intriguing that sexual motive was being assigned simply based on the
woman’s breasts.
The older man and
younger woman carried their coffee and sat in the table directly in front of
mine. This would make it difficult for
the other women to gossip about them, as they were clearly within earshot.
“Let’s go,” Lady one
sighed and stood up. Lady two followed
suit. “I’ve seen enough.”
The two women paraded
out of the front door and I watched as they walked toward a black Mercedes Benz,
got in and drove away. I wondered where
they might be headed and rolled my eyes, thinking that Lady one, in particular,
was rich, snobby and clearly judged people from only a high-horse view. I didn’t realize in that moment that I was
just as guilty of judging her as she was of judging the man and younger woman.
I had deemed her rich and snobby simply based on the type of car she was
driving.
As I sat there, now
eavesdropping on the man and younger woman’s conversation, I learned that he
was recently widowed and she was his step-daughter from his wife’s previous
marriage. She wasn’t a gold digger, he wasn't sneaking around, involved in some illicit affair and their relationship had absolutely
nothing to do with the size or perkiness of her breasts. They were sharing stories about her mother, his wife, who had lost a long battle to cancer. Talk about life perspective knocking you upside the head. It hit me so hard I'm surprised I didn't fall right out of my seat.
Leaving the coffee shop
and climbing into my car, I wondered what people thought about me. Was I judged on my appearance? On the car I drove? On the perkiness of my breasts or the size of
my ass? I pondered how many times I had
made pre-judgments based on similar things…exterior things. How many times had I applied my own life
experiences, fears, doubts, etc. to others, assigning them motive that probably had never even
entered their mind? How many times had I
judged a book by its cover and was dead wrong?
I didn’t get a lot of
writing done while in the coffee shop, but I walked out a better person. I walked out with an awareness I didn’t
possess when I entered. I walked out
with my eyes opened just a little bit more and a personal challenge to not
pre-judge other people.
Because…everybody has a
story and it should never be judged without ever being heard. ~
