Incognito

So, like everyone else in the world, I bought into the "large sunglasses" craze this past summer. I love them. They're not like Nicole Richie huge (you know, cover your entire face) but they're decent size. Definitely larger than any I've worn before.

I love them. I feel like "Secret Agent Emily" when I wear them. You know, like no guy can see me checking him out. Like no slow drivers can see the evil glares I gave them as I sped around them. Like no one can recognize me when I have them on. I would say they're one step away from being an invisibility cloak that would rival Harry Potter's.

Except that, you know, they aren't.

My first clue that my sunglasses weren't the best disguise ever was when I was walking into the car dealership for the last step of the purchase process for my new car. Walking out of the dealership at the exact moment I was approaching was a college classmate that I hadn't seen in the seven years since we had graduated. To put it nicely, this girl and I were not the best of friends, though we're forever bound by the permanent ties of sorority life.

As she exits the dealership, I first tensed for the uncomfortable encounter, then relaxed while thinking to myself "Oh thank goodness. I'm wearing the sunglasses. She'll never recognize me. Whew. Close one."

I mean, I actually thought that. That was a very real thought in my head. Seriously. That was my reality until she said, "Emily!" and just like that put me into the very awkward encounter I thought I was going to avoid.

I was shaken, but still had faith in my sunglasses. I mean, I lived with this girl for about three years. She probably saw through the disguise because of our previous proximity, you think? Surely I was still incognito to others on the street, right?

This past weekend was my final test (before the final exam) in chemistry. I headed down to IUPUI for some studying dressed in comfy clothing, my backpack full of notes, my iPod, and my sunglasses (surprisingly necessary for December.) I was ready for some hard core studying.

As I headed towards the library, I hear "Emily S-----?!" (If you don't already know my last name, just ask...I don't think I can bring myself to put it on the internet if I can help it.)

As I turn, I see a girl who went to my high school. My HIGH SCHOOL! She wasn't even in my class, but graduated two years behind me. I said hello and pulled her name out of my rapidly fading memory banks at the last split second. We had a friendly chat about how she was doing (married, no kids, getting her masters) and how I was doing (single, two dogs, still believes in magic sunglasses) and parted ways. As I walked away it occurred to me that I was still wearing my "magic" sunglasses.

After being recognized by someone who had little contact with me in high school, and absolutely no contact for the last eleven years, I am forced to abandon my "perfect disguise" ideals. Apparently my sunglasses are just that - sunglasses.

So now I have to worry about all those guys and whether or not they actually saw me checking them out. And all those girls who got the bitchy looks. Um... And what about the guys that I checked out when I was with the boyfriend?!

Maybe my next pair should have the big plastic nose and moustache attached, you think?