“Everyone is staring at you.” Scott murmured as we walked through the parking lot of our gym. A slow grin spread across my face as I started to walk just a little bit taller.
“Not in a good way, Katrina.” he elaborated.
Naturally, he was referring to my choice of outfit.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but is this not the type of get-up that one would wear when teaching a hip hop dance class?
Ultimately, Scott failed to see the validity in this argument.
“Katrina…you live in rural Minnesota and teach a ghetto Zumba class. Can’t you just dress normal?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…It is not ghetto Zumba…it is Hip Hop Hustle. And yes, I realize this outfit is a tad bit over the top–but it makes class fun. You know? Dressing like this helps to create a party atmosphere. I’m just having a good time with it.” I hopped into the car, buckled my seatbelt, and tilted my hat to the side with an air of stubborn confidence.
“This is like an America’s Best Dance Crew episode in the middle of a cornfield.” Scott muttered, ” I mean, seriously…that hat is ridiculous. I can’t believe you actually paid money for that thing.”
“Oh yeah…?” I challenged, “Well someone in class told me it looked exactly like something Justin Bieber would wear.”
“That is exactly why you shouldn’t be wearing it!” he steamed.
I was about to argue that it was exactly the reason I should be wearing it, but realized we were almost to Target. Simply taking if off would drastically improve my odds of scoring a box of my favorite protein bars. Removing the hat, I stepped into the Target parking lot with some serious hat hair, assuring myself The Biebs would forgive me for such a transgression.
“You know Katrina, I like it when you just wear your fitted capri pants with a Lululemon top and one of your headbands. That’s a look you can actually pull off.”
“You know what, Scott? I can pull off any look I want. As long as I wear it with confidence and act like I’m pulling it off, people will believe I’m pulling it off. It’s as simple as that. I get that you aren’t a fan of my workout wear, but it’s what I like and it makes me feel good. Thanks for sharing your opinion, but ultimately, it’s up to me and doesn’t really affect you at all.”
“Oh, it affects me.” he argued while rolling his eyes at the abandoned hat in the foot well, “I’ve been involuntary roped into a love triangle involving an obnoxiously large trucker hat.”
I couldn’t help but giggle.
“You know…a lot of people would kill to be married to a Justin Bieber look-alike.” I suggested.
Thirty minutes later, we had nestled into the sofa for a date with the Women’s Olympic Swimming finals. Yes, I was able to score a box of my fancy protein bars, and yes, the trucker hat was back on. While watching the competitors prepare for their race, I noticed something strange about one of the European swimmers.
“Ewww!” I screeched, “She totally has a ton of armpit stubble! You think she would have shaved it, knowing she was going to be broadcast in HD around the world and all.”
Scott simply responded with “I actually like a little bit of armpit stubble.”
This was certainly news to me.
“Seriously?” I asked incredulously. “You like female armpit stubble?”
“Yeah.” he shrugged. “I mean…it shows that she’s comfortable in her own skin. I’m attracted to a woman who is confident enough to do her thing and not care what everyone else thinks.”
“Oh really??” I said, pointing to my trucker hat. “Then why can’t you admire my confidence to wear ghetto fabulous street wear despite the fact that we live in the land of white people who bake casseroles???”
“Katrina,” he explained, “There’s a major difference between being confident, and being delusional.”
I rolled my eyes and reached for a protein bar. Whether he likes to admit it or not, trucker hats are totally the new armpit stubble.