People show their true colors in the funniest ways – often when they think others aren’t looking. There are a few types:
The gym guy:
This is the guy you catch eyes with in the mirror (when really you were just scanning the room for the 15 lb free weights) and he seems to inflate by ~10 muscle pounds. When he thinks you’ve looked away (when the hunt for the weights continues) a paunch appears and the inflated look turns lopsided.
The Friday night girl:
This is the type who curls her wavey hair and puts on a pair of jeans or skirt two sizes too small. She giggles at jokes and non-jokes, waddles in the cutest way possible, and is intrigued by all around … when people are watching. When people aren’t watching the muffin top appears (that's why I love spanx), giggle turns to grimace, and hair gets put back into perfect tossled place.
The moderator:
Now panels don’t really allow time for folks to put on a show or put their show on pause. The hood is lifted and true psyche is there for all to see. Today I witnessed a particularly painful panel with one particularly interesting moderator.
Today’s moderator had his own agenda – his own core pitch to share and his own story to flaunt. He did not introduce any of the panelists, nor did he seem to know who was on the panel. After giving his pitch he simply said, “so what do you think?” nodding to guy #1 on the panel.
After all 5 panelists went through and introduced themselves and talked a bit about the topic that was on the agenda, the a question was raised. The moderator swung it straight to the panel as he didn’t seem to know (or even know the acronym the question referred to). After guy #3 bottom lined the proper answer with anecdotes and predictions, the moderator seemed clearly distressed – he was losing the show. He started to hoola, swaying side to side, unknowingly. Then his arms moved with his hips. Pretty soon he was pursing his lips trying to think of a report but by then it was all over – the bald spot on his head started to sweat making his comb-over seem to float up as if on strings. It was a bit sad at first, but then he tried to take back the show arguing with no argument. This came with a forward pelvic thrust (at which point I nearly had to leave the room it was hurting so much to hold in my laughs).
Ah true colors – when they shine through they can be quite vibrant.
The gym guy:
This is the guy you catch eyes with in the mirror (when really you were just scanning the room for the 15 lb free weights) and he seems to inflate by ~10 muscle pounds. When he thinks you’ve looked away (when the hunt for the weights continues) a paunch appears and the inflated look turns lopsided.
The Friday night girl:
This is the type who curls her wavey hair and puts on a pair of jeans or skirt two sizes too small. She giggles at jokes and non-jokes, waddles in the cutest way possible, and is intrigued by all around … when people are watching. When people aren’t watching the muffin top appears (that's why I love spanx), giggle turns to grimace, and hair gets put back into perfect tossled place.
The moderator:
Now panels don’t really allow time for folks to put on a show or put their show on pause. The hood is lifted and true psyche is there for all to see. Today I witnessed a particularly painful panel with one particularly interesting moderator.
Today’s moderator had his own agenda – his own core pitch to share and his own story to flaunt. He did not introduce any of the panelists, nor did he seem to know who was on the panel. After giving his pitch he simply said, “so what do you think?” nodding to guy #1 on the panel.
After all 5 panelists went through and introduced themselves and talked a bit about the topic that was on the agenda, the a question was raised. The moderator swung it straight to the panel as he didn’t seem to know (or even know the acronym the question referred to). After guy #3 bottom lined the proper answer with anecdotes and predictions, the moderator seemed clearly distressed – he was losing the show. He started to hoola, swaying side to side, unknowingly. Then his arms moved with his hips. Pretty soon he was pursing his lips trying to think of a report but by then it was all over – the bald spot on his head started to sweat making his comb-over seem to float up as if on strings. It was a bit sad at first, but then he tried to take back the show arguing with no argument. This came with a forward pelvic thrust (at which point I nearly had to leave the room it was hurting so much to hold in my laughs).
Ah true colors – when they shine through they can be quite vibrant.
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