Running Your Mouth“I have to tell you something and you’re not going to like it” she says to me.
Thirty minutes prior, I was chatting with a co-worker about how she had seen had seen me running along the sidewalk that afternoon. “Really moving” were the words she used to describe my pace when she saw me. Two hours before that I was purchasing a forty dollar running hat designed for frosty outdoor running and one month ago, I started running every morning. I am getting more and more serious about it the further I run. I eat healthier, I drink more water, I can fit into clothes that I have been unable to bring myself to even look at before I started. I am not “obviously” in shape: I am not lean, I do not have a six pack, and I do not buy one hundred and thirty dollar pieces of running attire. But I do look strong, I do have large, muscular thighs and I can run five kilometres without breaking stride.
“I have to tell you something and you’re not going to like it” she says to me.
I can feel a difference in my body when I don’t run. My muscles are going through withdrawal and running is my fix. I am addicted. I don’t see distances in kilometres anymore, I measure distances in length of songs: I clock my run according to the songs on my Ipod. I could do eight hours of homework or work a double shift at work but I don’t feel as productive as I do when I know that I have run.
Thirty minutes prior, I was chatting with a co-worker about how she had seen had seen me running along the sidewalk that afternoon. “Really moving” were the words she used to describe my pace when she saw me. Two hours before that I was purchasing a forty dollar running hat designed for frosty outdoor running and one month ago, I started running every morning. I am getting more and more serious about it the further I run. I eat healthier, I drink more water, I can fit into clothes that I have been unable to bring myself to even look at before I started. I am not “obviously” in shape: I am not lean, I do not have a six pack, and I do not buy one hundred and thirty dollar pieces of running attire. But I do look strong, I do have large, muscular thighs and I can run five kilometres without breaking stride.
“I have to tell you something and you’re not going to like it” she says to me.
I can feel a difference in my body when I don’t run. My muscles are going through withdrawal and running is my fix. I am addicted. I don’t see distances in kilometres anymore, I measure distances in length of songs: I clock my run according to the songs on my Ipod. I could do eight hours of homework or work a double shift at work but I don’t feel as productive as I do when I know that I have run.
I finish my shift at the restaurant I work at and head to the change room. I did not have a good night: needy people and not enough tipping have put me in a less than thrilled mood. I am happy the change room is empty. I take my work pants off and fold them into my locker. The door squeaks and a co-worker walks in. I am still pant-less. She asks me how my night went. I just groan and mumble something about cheap people and karma; these are the only words we usually exchange, usually.
“I have to tell you something and you’re not going to like it” she says to me.
I turn to her, pant-less, and give a half smile. Then don’t tell me I think.
“Alright” I say hesitatingly.
“But you’re really not going to like it” she reiterates.
I get it. I’m not going to like it. But she says she has to tell me, so tell me. I wouldn’t want her losing any more precious sleep over this.
“It looks like you put on a little weight”.
I stare at her worn face, browned with cigarette smoke and sun damage. The silence is deafening. But she continues.
“And usually, if I am told that, I stay away from food”.
I have no pants on. This woman has impeccable timing. And still, she continues.
“And usually, you look really skinny. So I thought I would tell you.”
My ass is hanging out for the world to see and she chooses this moment to tell me that I have become the resident hippo. She could have waited until I was in a snowsuit or was wearing a garbage bag. I have never been skinny. Never. I don’t know what to say. I am stunned. I shift my stare between her and the dripping tap in this horrible yellow change room. My mind scans through all the kilometres I have covered. I think of all the mornings that I left my warm bed to run. I think of my skinny jeans. I think about how great I felt until this moment.
“Oh really? Is that so? Well I have some things to tell you and you’re not going to like them. Nobody likes you here. You’re incompetent and your half of a high school education shows all the time. You work here because you have to, you throw all your tips towards your addiction to alcohol, cigarettes and ONLY God know what else. Your breath always smells like you brushed your teeth with dog shit and your teeth look like you’ve gnawed on a piece of ash fault. You have a hunch. You drive a 1992 Areostar van with a breathalyser device in it and your face looks like mashed potatoes have come to life. I have actually lost five pounds you inconsiderate bitch. I have my whole life ahead of me. I win” is what I would have liked to say if my voice box and quick wit had not been disabled due to shock. Instead, I just stared.
“So, have a good weekend. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
I mumble and shuffle out of the way and she bounces past. I am alone, without a word to say, without my dignity, without my pants. I mechanically put on the rest of my clothes that feel unusually tight around my body. I leave the change room and head into the restaurant. I pass a few bubbly, skinny co-workers on my way out. It just aggravates me even more. I pass all the buns, butter and deep fried goodness that I have not eaten in over a month. No one knows this, obviously. I say my 'goodbyes' and plug my headphones into my ears for my five kilometre run home.
“I have to tell you something and you’re not going to like it” she says to me.
I turn to her, pant-less, and give a half smile. Then don’t tell me I think.
“Alright” I say hesitatingly.
“But you’re really not going to like it” she reiterates.
I get it. I’m not going to like it. But she says she has to tell me, so tell me. I wouldn’t want her losing any more precious sleep over this.
“It looks like you put on a little weight”.
I stare at her worn face, browned with cigarette smoke and sun damage. The silence is deafening. But she continues.
“And usually, if I am told that, I stay away from food”.
I have no pants on. This woman has impeccable timing. And still, she continues.
“And usually, you look really skinny. So I thought I would tell you.”
My ass is hanging out for the world to see and she chooses this moment to tell me that I have become the resident hippo. She could have waited until I was in a snowsuit or was wearing a garbage bag. I have never been skinny. Never. I don’t know what to say. I am stunned. I shift my stare between her and the dripping tap in this horrible yellow change room. My mind scans through all the kilometres I have covered. I think of all the mornings that I left my warm bed to run. I think of my skinny jeans. I think about how great I felt until this moment.
“Oh really? Is that so? Well I have some things to tell you and you’re not going to like them. Nobody likes you here. You’re incompetent and your half of a high school education shows all the time. You work here because you have to, you throw all your tips towards your addiction to alcohol, cigarettes and ONLY God know what else. Your breath always smells like you brushed your teeth with dog shit and your teeth look like you’ve gnawed on a piece of ash fault. You have a hunch. You drive a 1992 Areostar van with a breathalyser device in it and your face looks like mashed potatoes have come to life. I have actually lost five pounds you inconsiderate bitch. I have my whole life ahead of me. I win” is what I would have liked to say if my voice box and quick wit had not been disabled due to shock. Instead, I just stared.
“So, have a good weekend. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
I mumble and shuffle out of the way and she bounces past. I am alone, without a word to say, without my dignity, without my pants. I mechanically put on the rest of my clothes that feel unusually tight around my body. I leave the change room and head into the restaurant. I pass a few bubbly, skinny co-workers on my way out. It just aggravates me even more. I pass all the buns, butter and deep fried goodness that I have not eaten in over a month. No one knows this, obviously. I say my 'goodbyes' and plug my headphones into my ears for my five kilometre run home.
I have never understood running, especially if there is no one chasing me, but I can still relate to your post. Your dedication and tenacity, not to mention pride is well shown. I really enjoyed your "come-back", it was full of claws and bite. There are some areas of the piece that do not fit as well in the progression, such as the info about the job and interaction with other co-workers. Try this...as the final two words...put "I win" again. It brings it full circle and gives you your power and dignity back. If you want, you can email me and I can show you a cut version of your post that "trims it" a bit, just for fun's sake. ywon@lakeheadu.ca
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed reading this, and thought it was worth every effort! Kudos!
Wow, I actually laughed out loud multiple times when reading this post, and it's pretty late so I woke up my entire family (but it was well worth it). I really enjoyed your post and I often feel like saying all of the stuff that you said (but didn't really say) to a lot of mouthy old co-workers. I too am often stuck in a phase of complete and utter silence with nothing but a mere smile to throw back at them. One day we will have our revenge!
ReplyDeleteAnyways I really liked how you said, "I have to tell you something and you’re not going to like it” numerous times after stating more of the scenario. It adds a very suspenseful effect to the post. The title is very catchy as well. I myself have tried running and it hurts my knee's too much so I really give you credit for doing that much running.
The only thing I would suggest is using a few more adjectives to describe maybe the internal demise you go through when she says that horrible thing to you. If you use binary opposite adjectives to describe your high and low points it may present a greater effect. You will have to try it and see though, that is just from my point of view. Otherwise, amazing job!
I enjoyed this blog. You use a few techniques very effectively. Repeating “I have to tell you something and you’re not going to like it” certainly helps to keep me focused and in anticipation. It also gives me a sense of the way her words stuck with you.
ReplyDeleteI also admire the way you juxtapose your physical exposure (i.e. nakedness) and your emotional vulnerability. Very well done!
I like the way you describe yourself as a runner. It somehow endears the reader more to your efforts – you’re not a flashy runner, just a girl who wants to be healthier. It also helps that you outline the differences you’ve noted in your body because it tells the reader you’re feeling proud and rewarded for your efforts. That in turn makes the “insult” so much harder later on. The description and detail works here, but not as well in other areas, where they serve less purpose.
“I am alone, without a word to say, without my dignity, without my pants.” is by far my favourite sentence. It so perfectly and succinctly describes your emotional and physical state both literally and figuratively. And it’s very funny! You could have finished the piece there for a more dramatic ending, or just added that you dressed and went for a run. I found that the information at the end about your co-workers and the food, etc. took away a bit from the impact of the change room scene.
Good for you for being the bigger person and not saying all of those mean things to the co-worker. You drew me in and I was very much committed by the end of your piece. I wanted to clobber that bitch.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Tracie, my favorite line by far was, "I am alone, without a word to say, without my dignity, without my pants." It showed exactly how helpless, frustrated and defenseless you may have felt! I am a big fan of this post.
Oh yes, I also LOVE the title!
ReplyDeleteThe FIRST thing I like about this is how much anticipation you build up by repeating “I have to tell you something and you’re not going to like it” before paragraphs, and it's not until three hundred words later that the reader actually finds out what she wants to say. That was the hook, line, and sinker. Then, once she drops the bomb on you, instead of tearing her head off you describe the atmosphere. Time stops and the reader is stuck in that moment with you.
ReplyDeleteYour rant is utterly priceless and I am still laughing so much at the line "your face looks like mashed potatoes have come to life". On the whole, you show your emotions on a silver platter and that woman's observation affected you enough to write a very convincing blog post. Though certain parts might not require as much description as you have offered, it doesn't really turn me off from reading it through or wanting to read it again. I like how you snub the greasy restaurant food at the end and follow through with your running routine. Your tenacity is what makes you the bigger woman here.
Hi Alana...sorry, I tried to email you but the email address you left me got returned. If you still want, you can email me at the address above and I will reply ASAP. Cheers! Yuk-Sem :)
ReplyDelete