Tomorrow is a big day ... Jim and I are going trail riding with friends and I'm so excited! No, not on bikes. On horses! And I simply can't wait. In preparation for our big day out, we stopped at Woodman's tonight to pick up supplies for the trail lunch and the cookout afterward at our house.
As we were scurrying to get the stuff we needed (you know how this goes, you leave the produce department confident you've gotten everything and then make three trips back because you haven't), Jim stops me and says,
"See that woman over there? The one in the black pants and bright shirt?" (Boy to fashion translation: black yoga capris and a neon green tank.)
"Yeah," I say as I spot the blond woman by the chips.
"You look like her."
"Huh?" I reply. She's blond and young and there's no way I look like her. "No I don't."
"No, you don't LOOK like her. Your body shape and size are like hers. You always say you can't tell what you look like and I'm telling you ... you're the same size as she is."
I scowl at him and keep walking.
There's no way I look like that. He's patronizing me. And that irritates me.
"I'm bigger than she is. I know you're trying to be nice. But I'm definitely bigger than she is."
"No," he says. "You're the same size as her. And I'm not being nice. You're both about this wide." And he holds his hands up, palms perpendicular to the ground, as if measuring my hips.
This cracks me up. But I dare not let him see it.
And I secretly smile to myself. That chick was smaller than I thought I was.
Maybe this healthy thing is working after all.
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