Run, fat girl!

There I was, enjoying a 6:30 a.m. run, feeling my legs work and my heart pump, waving at kids waiting for their buses and feeling thankful for life in general. And then I heard it.

"Run, fat girl, run!!!"
I looked around for the fat girl, feeling sorry for her and even considering joining up with her if she was trying to whip herself into shape alone. But there was no one else out running.
"Run, fat girl, run!!!"
There was no mistaking what I had heard, and the group of middle school kids it was coming from seemed highly amused. Seriously, if there was someone out with a weight problem, I was going to pummel those kids. What in the world?
The ringleader looked right at me and hollered again, "Run, fat girl, run!"
And then I realized that the "fat girl" was I.

My mind started racing. Oh my word, have I gained that much weight since I stopped marathon training? I know I haven't run much lately, but surely I can pick it up. Should I stop drinking so many decaf lattes? Oh to be a girl in a world where the more you resemble a clothes rack, the more you're applauded.

But I stopped. No, there's no fat girl here. I may not be a rail, but by golly, I am thin enough, and no little punk on his way to school is going to make me feel any differently. I wanted to stop right there and have a conversation with those kids about how your words can tear people down, and you never know what kind of background a person might have. I wonder if I had stopped if he would have said it to my face, or if he'd have been a little less brave. But any pause in my run was going to be giving in to someone completely unworthy of my very precious time, and he didn't deserve a bit of attention. So I continued, calmly resisting the urge to flip that little twerp the double bird and ran on my merry way (more because there were parents out than because I'm exceedingly mature). And as Tyra Banks would say, he can kiss my fat a**.
Happy Monday!!!