Thursday, May 2, 2013

A Weird Conversation That Made Me Sad



I’m no fan of locker room conversation, but sometimes when it’s particularly crowded, people are particularly chatty, and I’m particularly naked, a little light banter can take the awkwardness out of an inherently undignified situation.  And then sometimes it can’t.

Although the sign advertises a room capacity of fourteen, the three of us were tripping all over ourselves thanks to the four duffel bags splayed across the floor spilling out what must have been the entire contents of one woman’s vanity.  Ignoring the obvious cause, instead we made conversation about how ridiculously small the locker room was.

Then out of nowhere, apropos of absolutely nothing, the woman who was responsible for the cosmetic sprawl on the floor turned to the two of us and asked, “Am I fat?”

It seems innocuous enough in print, but it was shocking because 1) it’s such an uncomfortably personal question to ask of complete strangers and 2) she was not remotely overweight in the slightest.  I was more pokerfaced than the other woman, but I identified immediately with her look of horror and sadness at even being asked the question, especially by someone who was older than both of us and should ideally have outgrown such crippling insecurity.

We both told her that she was not fat at all, and she wailed, “But my thighs are so huge!”  She was almost in tears.

The other woman motioned toward me and asked her, “Well do you think she’s fat?”

And I’m embarrassed to say that I had a moment of panic.  As I stood there in my bra and panties, I did not want to be a casualty of this woman’s body dysmorphia.

After a pause she said, “No.”  Sadly, a ridiculous wave of relief washed over me, from my head down to my thighs.

“Well, see, your body looks exactly like hers so obviously if she’s not fat, then you’re not fat.”

Then the older woman asked me how tall I was and how much I weighed.  And I’m ashamed to say I LIED.  I gave my true height and said I was four pounds lighter than I am.

“That’s what I weigh,” she replied.  I was disturbed that I did not weigh less than her, and then I was disturbed that I was disturbed.

The other woman in the room zipped up her bag and said kindly, “I think you’re both perfect the way you are.  I think we’re all perfect.”  And with that, she excused herself.

The older woman asked how old I was.  I didn’t see fit to lie this time and told her I was thirty-five.  She responded very nicely saying I looked much younger.  She told me she was fifty-three.  I responded very nicely saying that she looked much younger.

We were probably both lying to each other.   We might even be lying to ourselves.  But still, sometimes it’s nice to hear.

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