To Spinst or Not To Spinst, That Is The Question . . .

Because of the developments outlined in yesterday's post I have considered hanging up my title of Invisible Spinster. It is, afterall, difficult to make the case that I am either invisible or a spinster if there is a ready man in my life to have sex with.

That is, I was considering it until today. See, occasionally part of my job involves going to peoples' houses and negotiating until there is a deal. (Yes, that's purposely vague). When my father was alive, he and I were in business together and my Marla Hooch imitation actually helped him close the deal. (That was a racket in and of itself, and worthy of it's own post another time). On my own, though, I am forever battling the fact that people, especially men, don't want to deal with women who don't look Hollywood beautiful. Today was one of those days. I went to this farmer's house out in the boonies and whomever he thought was going to show up when he called my store, by the look on his face I obviously wasn't it. It was plain to me that no matter what I did, he would never close the deal with me. Two hours and a lotta gas wasted. *sigh*

I don't understand this attitude. Not one bit. I am not the Avon Lady, come to sell you beauty yet failing at it myself. I am not selling a lifestyle. Hell, I am not even in sales. What I do gives people money. My business should not depend one whit upon how I look . . . and yet, deals are affected time and again. Some of it, I think, is my relative youth -- most of the people I deal with are Baby Boomer and older. But a lot of it, the majority, is this Cloak of Invisibility with the 3+ Ugliness embroidery. Because if you're not beautiful, you must be ugly.

Or something.