It’s 1:49 in the morning. And I’m sitting here at my computer because I can’t sleep. Because someone was mean to me. I know, soooo sixth grade but there it is.
For several weeks now, I have been the target of some mean girls at the gym (I should actually say “women” since they are all way past voting age but “girls” just seems appropriate here). It’s not pervasive, just during my Monday night kickboxing class. Which is really sad because I love that class with a love that borders on stalking. I mean, pretty soon Monday night is going to stop taking my calls and start telling me I’m just too intense and maybe we should starting boxing other people.
Anyhow, they aren’t mean to my face but instead make their comments just loud enough and then go out of their way to make sure that I know it’s me they are talking and laughing about. For example, tonight: I was standing as far away from them as possible (I may be many things but I’m not a slow learner) and a girl (lady??) I don’t recognize comes to stand next to me. I smile at her and say hi (I’m very friendly) and she smiles at me. All good. Several songs into what was shaping up to be a very good and very sweaty workout, she swings the wrong direction and our fingertips graze. No biggie – the class is crowded, accidental contact happens, right? Well, she proceeds to act as if she is mortally wounded and makes a huge show of gathering up her stuff to march out of the class… but not before making a pit stop at the Mean Girls’ table so they can point and laugh at how clumsy I am and how I “totally, like, could’ve killed her.”
At this point people are staring at me and I’m trying to ignore them but I’m turning red anyhow. I haven’t felt this humiliated since Middle School and my response then was to go Goth (you want to call me a freak?? I’ll show you a FREAK!). During a break, I ask another girl in the class what’s up and she says that a couple of months ago I accidentally stood in their spot. That’s right – all this harrassment because they think they own a patch of hardwood at the YMCA (that I have never even had the audacity to stand on again!). My friend tries to console me, “They’re just jealous of you.” Yeah. It didn’t help when my mother said it 15 years ago and it doesn’t help now.
But they weren’t done with me. During cooldown, one girl says loudly, “Poor Ann! She’s so brave! If that chick would have hit me I would have screamed, like, SO LOUD.” Several witty and many profane retorts went through my mind but I’ve never been one for public confrontation and I honestly was trying to be the bigger person. (Although, since you asked – here are my top two favorites: “Oh believe me, sister, you would scream if I hit you.” and “You, like, totally should – throwing a tantrum burns so many more calories!” Thank you. I’m done now.)
So I said nothing to them. Again. And left class humiliated. Again. And now I’m sitting here at 2 o’ clock in the morning hoping that writing this out to a bunch of strangers on the Internet will make me feel better enough so I can stop stewing and go to bed. I’m also trying to think of how to make an experiment out of this or at least tie it into some research but I’m tired and I just can’t. Sorry, guys.
PS> Look at how normal Lindsay Lohan looks in that pic! I will never understand why she lost all that weight. She looked awesome as a mean-turned-nice girl.