My Badly-Lit Universe, And Welcome To It

Is it me, or is the lighting bad in here?

It has recently come to short attention span of the SJG that the universe appears to be harshly lit and unkindly fluorescent. To clarify, I'm talking about the interior of the specific universe I occupy, and that's the only universe that really matters. Self-involved? How dare you! I'm getting to you in a second. Your personal universe may be candle lit and soothing. If this is the case, good on you! A recent study proves that everyone looks wonderful in candlelight. But in my universe, a small domain, a two-mile radius of schlepping here and there, I'm lit poorly by unnatural, unflattering light.  I have it on good authority that cavewomen weren't subjected to fluorescent lighting, and therefore, worried more about survival than how they looked. Fast forward to the SJG universe. This mean-spirited, judgmental lighting needs to stop, and it needs to stop now.

At least in the market, so fluorescent I need sunglasses, there are no mirrors to reveal just what's going on with my anatomy at this stage of the game. Actually, that's not true. In the produce section, as I grab flat parsley or cilantro, or maybe a nice cucumber or some basil leaves, there is a mirror reflecting on the vegetables. Why there's a mirror in such a place, I have no idea, other than to let the veggies know they're looking pretty.  Who knew veggies were so vain?  They probably think this blog is about them. It's not. Get over yourself, veggies.  he produce mirror is there for only one reason: to reflect badly on the SJG, if, God forbid, I should look up at an angle, while reaching for a mango, and see myself. The overall effect is unfortunate. I will spare you the details, other than to say, I've looked better.

The harsh lighting in the market, the odd mirror there to taunt me, I can handle with a trace of dignity.  What I can't handle is the horribly cruel lighting in department stores, chain stores, any store where they want me to spend money. When I walk in, I may be tempted to spend money. But then, if I try something on, and am subjected to the shockingly bright, dressing room version of  myself, an unhelpful, demeaning view of my every known and unknown flaw, I want to run screaming from the establishment. And yet, most times, I muster the courage and stay. I stand there, I try on clothes, keep the weeping to a minimum, and I thank the harshly-lit universe for letting me know that the beige pants I'm considering are all wrong.  So wrong on every level. Also wrong:  the crazy green top the saleswoman keeps telling me looks great on me. It doesn't look great. I know it. She knows it. And so does the cold, unloving lighting in your store. So, thank you, universe. Thank you for the awful lighting you subject me to on a daily basis. Thank you for keeping me humble, and sparing me a percentage of dumb fashion decisions I'm inclined to make, even with good lighting. (5-8-13)