I mentioned a couple weeks ago that I was tempted to go out shopping on a Wednesday to the op shop where my sister-in-law's mother (I'll call her E for convenience) volunteers. Well, yesterday was the day.
Before I left home, I realised that I was nervous. Really nervous, like I used to get every time I went out. Nervous to the point that I was a little shaky. I was assuming that I was nervous about how she might react to me, but the nerves settled down almost as soon as I turned out of my driveway and drove off down the road. If that sounds odd, it's not, really. I work from home, and often get people showing up without appointments wanting to talk to me. I think that what I was nervous about was probably far more to do with being seen leaving home than what would happen while out shopping.
I drove straight to the suburb in question, parked in a convenient carpark and walked straight into the nearest op shop, where E was behind the counter, which was located about half way back through the shop. She was chatting with another volunteer who was putting clothes onto racks near the counter. I browsed along the dress racks at the front of the shop, finding nothing of interest. I did a couple of laps of the front half of the shop looking for skirts, then realised that they were just past the counter, towards the back of the shop. I found 2 skirts that I was interested in, turned to E and indicated that I wanted to try them on.
Some op shops insist that you show the staff before trying clothes on, so I make a habit of doing it in most of them unless I'm sure that I'm not expected to ask. She pointed me to the dressing room and said something along the lines of "Yes, try them on." Sadly, they were too low waisted for me, so I put them back on the rack and paused to look at something near the counter. The lady putting clothes out made a comment about hating getting old, and I turned around and looked at her, smiled and said "It's better than the alternative." I looked at E and smiled at her as she agreed with what I'd said, then casually wandered out of the shop and down the street to the next op shop.
So the big question I'm asking myself is did she recognise me? There was no indication that she did, and the colour of the wig that I was wearing is the closest that I have to my own hair colour, so probably the most likely to be recognisable. To some extent, her lack of reaction makes me think that she didn't recognise me, but then I think that I look so similar that she must have recognised me but not known how to react. For now, I think that I'll just assume the latter and wait and see if there is any feedback through the family. If she says something to my sister-in-law, I'm pretty certain that I'll know about it fairy quickly, whether it's good or bad!