Picture this scenario: you are walking down the street. Maybe you are on your way to work, or to lunch, or to meet a friend. Maybe your day is going well. That is, until you see...me. A girl walking towards you, all four-foot eleven inches of her on her own way to goodness knows where, sporting a nose ring and several tattoos. And you feel, from deep inside yourself, the need to talk to me about it.
Now I get it, I really do. Your day just won't feel complete without letting me know that you find my appearance completely irrelevant to your life, but also somehow threatening. How will I find my way without your counsel? How can I continue to exist without knowing exactly how you feel about the way I look?
Like I said, I get it. My deepest sympathies go out to the man who yelled at me from across a crowded intersection to point out that I had jewelry in my nose. Perhaps he was genuinely worried that I had forgotten, and was about to engage in some risky, proboscis- focused activity. But as a modified person, as the kids call it these days, I feel like it's my job to provide people so desperate to give me feedback a more helpful method for doing so. So here are some suggestions on how to make your day worthwhile without repeating the same comment that your work buddy Stephen made to me the other day on this same block.
Instead of:
"You've got something in your nose!"
Try:
"An aspect of your appearance deviates from the norm and is unsettling to me! Please accept this callout as humorous even though it actually caused you to physically jump as I addressed you loudly while you were listening to your headphones to avoid interactions with strangers such as this!"
Instead of:
"That's too much ink."
Try:
"Given my extensive knowledge of your life and your reasoning, I have determined that my advice is deeply relevant to you and will have an effect your life choices."
Instead of:
"Nose piercings make me wanna pick my nose!"
Try:
"Sometimes I perform compulsions in order to calm my general uncertainty and uneasiness about the world. It is something I am working on in therapy."
Instead of:
"You're gonna regret that."
Try:
Contemplating your own regrets. Every single one. See how many you can count on your fingers before drowning in a deep dark pit of despair. Once you claw your way out, you may address me with the alternative "hello", or perhaps comment on the general hopelessness of our puny human existence.