Have Answers? I Have Questions

I ride the metro to work each morning.  Despite the jostling, packed cars, sick riders (mentally and otherwise), it’s a great adventure.  It’s the only time in my day when neither the phone nor BlackBerry work which means I get 45 minutes of uninterrupted bliss.  Usually, I have my nose pressed against the Kindle, happilly ignorant of everything around me.  But once a while, I look up and enjoy the circus.  Today’s ride brought with it the following questions:

1.  (Apologies in advance if this offends anyone, but I TRULY want to know the answer to this question.)  Why do teenage girls that go to Catholic school wear skirts short enough to function as napkins?  Again, I honestly don’t meant to offend, but I would think a religious institution would insist upon something that covers the cervix.  The gals on the metro this morning looked great.  Cute ribbons in their hair, no garish make-up, clean white polos and then short.. and I mean SHORT little plaid skirts.  So short that every girl was either wearing leggings or shorts.

2.  What would posses a woman to stand in the middle of a pretty full train, in dress pants and shirt, and perform yoga?  And I don’t mean the yoga where you stretch your neck from side to side.  I mean full-on laughing dog (or whatever the heck it’s called), something on one leg that looks like a tree and that sideways half crouch where the knee touches the chest.  I’ve done yoga a few times (as you can guess by my techno lingo) but both times, it was in a dimly lit room with a lot of sighing and moaning.  Not in the middle of a train with the conductor riding the brake.  What was that all about?

3.  Why do I STILL take snarky comments on contest entries to heart?  I tell and tell myself over again, as I fill out the entry, I WILL NOT TAKE COMMENTS TO HEART.  Bad or otherwise.  And each time, I do.  Is it insanity (i.e. repeating the same thing over and over again and expecting  different results?)  Or simple masochism?

As I waited for the doors to open to let me out of my underground pod, I realized:  1) good for the woman doing yoga.  I wish I had the guts not to care.  2) too bad for me that I still care about snarky comments and take them to heart.  Maybe if I did more yoga in the middle of a packed train, a less than gentle comment would simply be a flesh wound rather than a gnawing burr.  3) I still don’t know why Catholic girl skirts are so short.