Get your "phass-on"

I was at the grocery store the other night, and there were two Indian girls in line in front of me. By the way, I'm currently attending graduate school and I'm at the grocery store that's within walking distance of the university housing. Which means the 2 Indian girls in front of me are NOT the usual state school groanin-for-a-bonin' freshmen girls, they are the awkward timid South Indian grad students with last names spelled irritatingly phonetically ("It's Ra-ma-krish-nan. How hard is that for you Americans?").
She had very long, poofy frizzy hair, held back behind her ears with a cheap clip. She was wearing mom pants, where the hem hits squarely at the ankle (not the chic slouchy boot cut jeans that are so fashionable. Hey, I got my fash-on), allowing men the pleasure of viewing whatever plush white athletic socks are worn inside the sneakers. Topped off with a plain striped tee. Not a iconic-ironic-graphic tee, but some Mervyn's brand stuff. I'm trying not to be contemptuous; I'm just so frustrated at seeing the same damn clothes on these girls over and over. I'd rather they wear Indian clothes than this. And you know why? (Here's the part that made it memorable.) One of the girls reminded me of my mother, or at least what she would have looked like at that age. So I'm all mixed up with feelings of shame, guilt, pity, and sympathy at suddenly having placed my mother in their shoes. I've seen the old pictures of my mom. I'm one hundred percent certain that this is what she looked like, dressed like, and what her demeanor was like (hesitant, with a 20% chance of scurrying).
I'm not quite sure why I wrote this. It's given me a jarringly clear picture of what a nasty judgemental person I really am. I think most people would say I'm nice. But that just means I'm really good at self-censorship.
I guess if you want to be a nice person, you walk a mile in someone else's shoes before you judge them. But if you really wanna screw with your head, put your mom or dad in their shoes.