It was all of twenty seconds. Yesterday teen girls made fun of my belly as I biked through the park. On the second loop they did it again. "You better start jogging," one said. "Get off that bike." So I stopped and looked at them. I noticed that all three girls were chubby. For teens, actually, pretty fat.
"What is your problem? Why would you say that?" I asked.
Two of them looked away; one puffed herself up and said, "because I feel like it."
"You're acting ignorant and poor," I said. "Just ignorant. It's sad. Don't do that."
Another fat man biked past us. "Dude, just ignore them," he said as he pedaled on. I know where he was coming from. I've seen too many stupid cross-cultural park interactions. But why ignore them? They wanted to talk.
I felt, I realized, relaxed. Unworried. Now that I'd stopped I was scary to them: instead of a fat dude sweating up a hill I became a big, older man with a soft, serious voice, shaking his head. I should remember this, that while I feel pocket-sized, I look like mean old authority. With that in mind I considered taking a picture of them with my phone, or pretending to--letting them roll around in bed at night afraid that someone would tell. The teen mind works that way; I remember it well.
One of the girls began screaming something. It made no sense. Inchoate animal hollering. It didn't involve me. They hadn't wanted the confrontation, hadn't planned for it, and now this girl was whooping, ten or fifteen feet away. Not coming closer. Didn't they have an idea that someone might stop? But of course they did not.
Someone had wanted these children.
I rode off. And as I rode I planned a third loop. They were moving slowly--they were chubby girls on a walk and they had gone about a fifth of a mile in the time it took me to loop. I would catch up with them. I would have more things to say. I laughed on my bike, winning.
But what? I was planning a confrontation with three teen girls in tight shirts with their bellies hanging out. I wanted it. Smiling, anticipating victory. What could they say? That I am fat? This is hardly a secret--while I have their foolishness on file, and the warm memory of the shame I saw in the eyes of the two girls who looked away.
I was chasing a fight, looking forward to the confrontation. Just like the girls, now. Pedaling merrily. It was time to go home.
At home I read in the Twitter log of someone I follow about how his one-year-old nearly choked to death, and is now in the hospital, having had a tracheotomy, suffering from brain seizures and possible brain damage. A new fear.
Summer will be over soon, kids back to school, picnics ended, leaving the park to joggers, pedestrians, and cyclists.
I'm 36 today. I looked back at last year, at my plans. That year didn't really work out as I'd hoped. I'm not particularly inspired to plan anything now.
| Food | Qty | Calories |
|---|---|---|
| Coffee, black, 1 oz. | 8 | 0 |
| Total | 0 |
Weight: 308 lbs