I got Karened.
What does this mean? Went to the hair salon for the first time in over a year. I had given myself a self-provided quarantine cut that wasn’t working for me any longer, especially as we continue to ease back into the world more and more. (Should we be? The recluse in me says no. And yet the butterfly…)
So I show a picture, one picture, of the haircut I am into. She says “you want it shorter in the back?” I say yes, thinking it would help elongate my jaw, of course. Long story short, in this location, I feel borderline soccer mom. Which is fine if you’ve chosen that path, but I haven’t. I wonder if this is what folks assume about me here. Or what we’re assuming about each other. I do it too.
I’m in Columbus. Columbus, GA. Facing my most demony demons head-on. Reminders of the past can do that.
Karen has a reputation. I wonder if she has had to learn to feel entitled. That she’s deserving. Her standards can seem ridiculous, and she comes in strong because her expectations have probably never been met because a lot of people don’t care like she does. Is she wrong? Not my business. Behind every Karen is probably some selfish asshole telling her she isn’t good enough, or maybe at some point. Maybe she’s just working on telling herself that she is. Maybe a finger up in Panera Bread is the release she needs. The boost of feeling in control of something. (Don’t be unkind to the people working there! That is not fair, Kare.)
Panera is her stage, and this is mine.
Does an asshole know that they’re an asshole? Or are they just taking care of themselves?
“When you know better you do better.”