The Uninvited Dermatologist: A Gremlin Grows in Manhattan

I'd like to take a moment and share an experience today - not even an hour old at this writing - that needs to go down in my annals of the "What the FUCK?" category - as opposed to the "WTF?" category, simply because spelling out the expletive indicates how sincerely fucked up this was.

I'm walking back from my lunch break, which was spent picking up my paycheck from the recent gig I did for the New York Film Academy. I stop to get a soup, which I intend to enjoy while I work when I get back, because I didn't have time to eat. I'm in a relatively good mood, despite the fact that I have a lot of things on my mind, which is probably why the following occurred without my being able to respond appropriately:

I'm at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change, and this short woman is standing next to me. She looks at me and smiles.

"You know, you should really use sunscreen when the day is so hot like today. Your face is bright, bright red. It looks awful, " she says, sweetly, as if she was asking for the time.

Shocked, I find myself saying, "Yeah, it's pretty hot. I put sunscreen on today, but it's wearing off."
WHAT??? Did I just say that? Instead of telling her she needs to consider stilts because from the altitude she's at, anything would look distorted - that's how it is in Munchkinland.

She continues.
"Yeah, well, on days like today sunscreen is important. My mother gets like that. She has coloring like mine, (here she indicated her tanned arms) but her face gets really red like yours.
"Spotchy little patches, too. Like yours."

She says this as if she's discussing the weather, the high heels she's sporting still only bringing her to eye level with my nostrils. She must have noticed them flare in fury, because without another word she crossed the street before the light changed.

Unfortunately, the oncoming traffic missed her and she was not struck down.

I stood there, wondering if what just happened really did happen. I looked around for Rod Serling, but he was not anywhere to be found. Are people really that rude? And I was I that much of a schmuck that I didn't respond with anything other than actually agreeing with her that I looked like a fucking splotchy tomato?

Anyone who knows me knows that this is a sensitive topic for me. I have rosacea, and I've been battling a tomato face since I was a wee spud. Some days it's a total horror show and I have to cake on makeup like a tired drag queen or else look like the red Kool-Aid Pitcher Guy. Since I often either don't have time for makeup or I'm just too lazy, Kool Aid Queen it is.

I'm convinced that the woman was a gremlin, like the one in the 1943 Bugs Bunny animated cartoon Falling Hare that was wrecking havoc on the fighter planes; she was short, unattractive, painfully annoying - and knew how to get under my skin and disappear in a matter of seconds.