Shallow Hal Or...

Shallow Heather?

Last night I went to Pilates Reformer again. I'll miss my usual Monday class next week, so I wanted to pick one up and have been dying to try a class I haven't been able to make because of Elijah House. After it was over, I talked with Pam (my instructor, if you don't remember me mentioning her) for a few minutes and she said something about me getting "tiny". Indulge me a brief aside and let me tell you that Pam is about 5'8" and maybe a size 2. Maybe. She's just about physically perfect, as you'd expect someone with a career in fitness to be.

Anyhow, she sorta went on and I said, "stop" once, and then a second time, slightly more agitated. And being who she is, she didn't stop. Goes on to tell me that she means it, but I just wasn't able to take that in. All this lead me to an agitated evening with the Music Man and asking some questions he didn't have the right answers for.

So I ask, when do I stop being the token fat girl? When people look at me, do they think, "Man, THAT girl needs to drop some weight"? Are they grossed out? If people see me eating an ice cream cone, do they fight the urge to tell me I don't need that, or do they just judge silently? Do they look at the roll around my waist that just won't go away, no matter how many hours I spend in the gym? Sigh.

Just as I was about to hit publish, the Chubby Cheeked Monster turned to me (and away from Little Einsteins) just to say, "You look beautiful". God through the CCM, I wonder?

How sweet of him, and of Him.