Like eating a really delicious chicken pot pie only to find a curly-haired foe in the last bite of it, I hate this. It’s a taint on an otherwise pleasant experience.
It frequently happens standing in line at the grocery store. It sometimes happens just walking down the street behind someone. A scenic view abruptly spoiled by a dilapidated outhouse or power plant siting on the horizon. (And yes, I am metaphoricalizing the face of an ugly girl to be on par with a dilapidated outhouse.)
The experience begins with the optical illusion of a finally shaped female rump, tight pants revealing the underwear-line free descent from her waist down to her feet. Up top, the finely maintained hair suggests a precision and attention to detail that only a true beauty would possess. All combining to lure me in for what I expect to be a pants-tightening payoff.
But it’s not. My pants remain relaxed fit, and I am left cheated, feeling tricked. Like Hansel, or to a lesser extent Gretel, coerced into an unmentionables-covered house under the guise of g-strings, bosoms and beauty only to find a wrinkly, hairy-moled bat of a woman buying hemorrhoid cream at the Foodland late on a Friday Night.
In essence, it goes back to the old cliche (side note: aren’t all cliches inherently old? So is saying “old cliche” redundant?) ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’. Of course, in this situation, it’s more like the back cover I am judging, and while I don’t read/own many books, I believe these includes numerous quotations by people who have read the book and find it enjoyable. There is also, on occasion, the creepy photo of the person who wrote the book looking perplexed in a garden or against a brick wall or something. (another side note: it is probably more so the person in the photo that is creepy, not the photo itself, so I am making the assumption that a creepy subject make a whole photo creepy). Back covers typically aren’t that interesting.
After further contemplation, it would appear I am the one at fault since I am judging a front cover by a back cover, which, following the book cliche, doesn’t carry much weight at all.
Still yet, what promise but unrealized potential these situations evoke; another string of shattered dreams.