Location: gym locker room
Conversationalists: me and some old woman, probably in her 70s
Old lady: So do you play soccer, basketball, or volleyball?
Me: Actually, I am a runner.
Old lady: Really? You don't look like one.
Old lady: Runners are always skinny. I once took a yoga class that was too advanced for me and the instructor was a runner and there was nothing to her. But you....you've got some meat on your bones. A lot of meat on your bones.
Me: Put hair in pony tail.
Old lady: Does that bob make you run faster?
Me: Put in ear phones and walk away, saying some words to her in my head. I just couldn't take it anymore.
Seriously, did that lady just call me fat to my face in a round-about way? I wanted to punch her, but refrained from doing so. As a person who has struggled and struggles with weight and body image, this type of comment frustrates me. Granted, I chalk it up to lady being old and senile. But still, to have the nerve to say that. That is the first time in my life that I can remember that someone called me fat.
Now, I am not and will never be a size 0 or 2, but that does not bother me. In the past few months, I have come to terms with my "happy weight." The scale does not define me or my happiness. I'm happy being me, in my size 6 or 8. I am healthy the way I am, and don't feel like I need to change that. I feel like the pictures below show that. So, old lady, take your comment back. You can eat my dust when I fly past you.