So, 2 Fridays a month for I don’t know, 2 years, a few of us moms and kids have been going to Chick-Fil-A after MOPS Steering Team meetings & MOPS meetings with the kids. Our precious children beg to go to Chick-Fil-A when we pick them up from MOPPETS, it’s not that we can’t get enough chicken, I assure you. Anyway, I’ve developed this quasi relationship with a cashier by the name of Sylvia. Sylvia is, I’m guessing, 63 and thinks I’m the bomb. When I walk in, she waves and motions for me to come to her line. This is the longest part of my day. Sylvia is not the swiftest cashier in the joint and it takes forever to get through. Sylvia asks me about church, tells me what her Bible study group is up to at Church of the King, it’s just like talking to your grandmother — until you fork over the $18 for 3 kids meals and my chargrilled southwest salad. Mammaw never made me pay for lunch.
After a trip to Target, the kids begged for Chick-Fil-A, so we went through the drive thru. I ordered, drove up, and the cashier says “Hi Miss Cabbage Patch!” I looked around for a camera ’cause I’m sure I must be on “Punk’d” or something and the cashier says, “oh, Ms. Sylvia calls you Miss Cabbage Patch.” As if on cue, Sylvia waves from 10 feet away. I wave back, confused. I handed my money over, got our food, and drove away. Now, I would get someone nicknaming me something pertaining to my haircolor or my penchant for purses, capri pants, or my inability to park a car or drive in reverse, but I’m at a loss here. I’ve never thought I looked particularly like a Cabbage Patch doll and I certainly have not mastered the dance as my dear husband has, so I’m clueless.
I remained fairly nickname-less until college (well, I’m sure I was called names, but not so much when I was present) where I was nicknamed ReeRee by Kim, Smokey by Bryan, and random others. I’ve been Red & Kerry B to many since middle school and high school, hence my email address and such. And I like bees. Bees are cool, ’til you mess with them & they sting the fire out of you. I’m not liking this Cabbage Patch thing.
So, dear readers, question is: how do I break up with my Chick-Fil-A cashier? I have plenty of break-up experience from back in the day, but this is beyond even me. For added blog value I have included a pic of said doll (found a pic online of the doll I actually had when I was a kid, how’s that for being a good blogger) and a pic of me from a couple of weeks ago. Yes, I have a round face, always have since birth, but that’s the only similarity I see. I think I need to up the anxiety meds. I’m sure I’ll obsess over this for weeks. Y’all know I have a tendency to do that.
kerryfaler.blog 
hopefully your cashier didn’t mean it as an insult, although i really do haaaaaaaaate it when someone says something to you that catches you off guard and keeps you thinking for weeks. if it were me, i’d just keep going, but keep your distance from the cashier. if you avoid the restaurant completely, you’ve allowed one person’s comment to have dominion over you, and continuing to go would, in the least, be some testament to strength. as difficult at this is, i’d say to let it roll off your back – this is THE hardest thing that i’ve tried to learn, especially when it comes to comments about my physicality, but it gets a little easier the more i do it. still, i can definitely identify with the obsessing, and if you can avoid that (obsessing has always been self-destructive for me) i think you should be fine.
in the meantime, if you’re really concerned about having a roundish face (i have a really long face, i think – the opposite problem, which comes with it’s own quirks), i’ve heard that wearing v-neck shirts will create the illusion of lengthening the face. which is too bad for me, because i do like v-necks. 😦
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ok, so i think you’ve missed your calling! You should be a professional blogger! You are really funny. The cabbage patch thing… i think it must be the round face, and possibly the red hair. Other than that, what could you possibly have in common with a doll from the eighties that was in such high demand that even teenagers wanted one (yes, me included). Sick. Maybe next time you drive thru the Chick-fil-a, you could be ready for the cashier and reply back with, “Oh, hey, Alf” or “What’s up Furby?” or possibly “How’s it going Smurfette?” Just a thought…..
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