I felt fabulous. My hair was looking like poo. My split ends had split ends, was too long, and just made me look OLD. I mean, O-L-D! Anyhoo, I go and have the highlights highlighted and a great cut. I'm feeling good! I go to Target (Hey, L, can I join your twelve step program for that?), get my "lifting comb." I had one of those, but I lost in between CA and FL. I also throw in a couple of, what my husband unkindly refers to as, "trashy love novels." The check out lines are low, I'm next in line, when all of a sudden, the male cashier picks up my trashy love novel and asks me, "You really like to read those?" I detected some disgust. I am slightly offended. I answered him honestly, "Yes." He goes on to tell me that he read one of "those" once, just for the heck of it, but what he really likes is the children's books. Now, it's my turn to make fun, grab for a snappy comeback, anihalate him with "the look."

I do none of the above. I pay for my purchases and toodle along my previously merry way. Btw, my hair is still looking fab at this point. Here's where the idea of revenge comes. If by any chance I EVER get published and go in and buy my book and he is still a male cashier there and he asks me if I really like this "drivel" (okay, so he didn't say drivel, but he MEANT it!), I can say, "Yeah, I do. In fact, I wrote it!"

Revenge is the sweetest success!