Most of you remember that a few weeks back, Mrs. G. committed to taking one risk each month for a solid year. For September, Mrs. G. chose to challenge herself to run one mile without stopping. Mrs. G. took her pledge seriously.
She woke up early each morning, got her son and Mr. G. out the door and then hit the streets to wogg--combination walk and jog.
Each morning, before she began wogging, she said four Our Father's for her knees...
And, at minimum, eight Hail Mary's for her feet. Mary M's boyfriend Ben with the hideous cowboy lamp, below is a photo of the Siamese cat painting Mr. and Mrs. G. argue about regularly. Mrs. G. thinks it's valuable folk art and Mr. G. thinks it was painted by numbers.
Mrs. G. is not going to sugarcoat the first two weeks. She was sore, refused to bend over and pick anything off the floor and, finally, went and got a massage. While she was on the massage table, she thought to herself: self, I much prefer this to exercise.
But Mrs. G. continued to drag herself out of bed and hit the road.
Unfortunately, she didn't ever make it a full mile without stopping to cough up a lung, but she ran further than she has since high school, and she has no intention of stopping merely because September has come and gone. But one day while she was wogging, a neighbor several blocks up waved at Mrs. G. when she had stopped to cough up lung. The neighbor walked over to encourage her. Mrs. G. explained her mission and the neighbor responded to Mrs. G's explanation with the following: I assume, because of the weight, you're dieting too.
Mrs. G. would like to tell you she made a snappy comeback, but, honestly, Mrs. G. was so shocked, she was speechless. She really shouldn't have been shocked, because Mrs. G. has noticed a snarkier (sometimes plain meaner) attitude toward the overweight since our country became so obsessed with the "Obesity Epidemic". Mrs. G. is not a muttonhead; she realizes being overweight significantly increases the possiblity of several medical problems, but guess what? She really doesn't need to hear about it from family, friends and, most certainly, complete strangers.
She often wonders how it would be received if she regularly discussed family, friends or strangers' drinking, smoking, suntanning, cellphone talking while driving, promiscuous or unprotected sex, iffy parenting, abusive spouses, lying, cheating, belittling...really, any unhealthy behavior. Mrs. G. suspects she would be deemed a colossal bore and receive very few social invitations (I mean, how dare she. Who does she think she is?). So, Mrs. G's September risk evolved into a divergent risk-- encouraging other people, mentally and vocally, to mind their own beeswax. Fat people don't owe you an explanation or an apology, and you don't owe them your advice or judgement. Mrs. G. can't remember who said this originally, but you can't hate people for their own good. Being overweight is a health issue, not a moral issue. If looking at an overweight human disturbs or disgusts you or emboldens you to give a mini lecture, perhaps you should lock yourself in a closet and take inventory of your own personal awesomeness. Be sure and ask family and friends and co-workers to honestly weigh in. Or, hey, here's an idea: why not stand in front of a roomful of complete strangers and let them size you up in one glance. But back to the personal inventory. If the best you can come up with is superiority because you have more discipline, more willpower or are thinner, guess what? Big whoop.
Mrs. G. remembers a popular saying from her Southern childhood:
Beauty is only skin deep...but ugly is to the bone.
For many years, Mrs. G. completely misunderstood what this saying meant. She thought it alluded to the notion that beauty is good and fine, fleeting, but still good and fine. But ugly (as in quit being ugly and mind your manners!), acting ugly infiltrated your whole being, seeped into your bones, contaminated your soul.
She remembers being crestfallen when she figured out it was an insult, that it insinuated, yeah, beauty may be skin deep, shallow, but ugly, ugly is a physiological disaster.
So, no, dear neighbor, Mrs. G. is not dieting. Believe it or not, she has made her peace with being stout and the likelihood that this is as good as she gets. She feels no need to fulfill your expectation that she be tortured or dissatisfied with just wogging for health and not to overhaul her large ass.
And this video, my ugly acting, presumptous friend, is just for you.
But, more so, it is to remind readers that you are who you are, life is what it is and, Lord have mercy, that is just fine. Don't you dare let anyone suggest otherwise.