Someday I'll wear pink again

“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.”