“You’ve lost weight.” Normally, those are wonderful words to
hear but, I was walking away from the person who said it. I appreciated the
compliment. Really, I did. It meant that my training and fueling was paying
off; however, those tiny, critical voices inside my head began to question, “What?
Was I so huge before? When did the “wide load” sign come down?” Clearly, their intent
and my impact didn’t match.
I can remember back when I first started running years and
years ago. I was jogging around the neighborhood in pink cotton sweats.
Remember, I said I was new. I ran angry and tight in those days. I was
self-conscious. I met a blonde-headed boy, a pre-teen, on a bicycle
coming the opposite way. I was going to move past him with my eyes towards the
ground, focusing intently so I didn’t have to engage. I thought I had it made, when he said, “it’s
gonna take a lot of running to jiggle off that fat.” Then, he pedaled
off blissfully down the street. I finished
my run, stunned that anyone would let whatever was on their mind, slip out from
their mouth. I know I was the adult, but I sure wished I had pushed him off the
bike. Strength training. That experience didn’t stop me from running, again and
again; though I did adjust my route and I never wore those pink sweats again.
Intent and impact. When they match, it’s a punch to the gut.
I never saw him again; however, that mental moment is still
in my brain every time I slip on a pair of tights --- black of course, because
they’re slimming --- or tank tops. It probably explains, with apologies to the
Susan G. Komen Foundation, my aversion to pink and I’m always with people who
want to wear pink. Hopefully, karma’s the bitch they say she is, if not, one
day I’ll pull on a pair of pink tights or shorts in search that little boy on a
bike, prepared with a snarky riff on Winston Churchill I wished I had used years
earlier, “I can lose weight, but you’ll always be stupid.”
