Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

Yesterday morning I went to the gym to try out my new weight lifting gloves. I had an interesting experience while I was there.

One of the staffers at the gym was taking some people through and showing them the equipment. She came up to me while I was working out on one of the machines and told me that I was doing it wrong.

She showed me the proper way to do it and, as part of her remarks, said, "You're a pretty little person, so you need to make sure to bring your arms in closer."

I couldn't get past those three words: "pretty little person." Nobody would have called me that 67 pounds ago.

Later, I was using a different machine, for the triceps, and she came over and turned the handles in to make them closer to my body. She told me to keep my arms in close when I push down. I told her that when I first started working out there, almost 70 pounds ago, that I had to have the handles on the higher setting or I couldn't get past my hips when I made the downward movement.

"Wow," she said. "You've done a good job." The new gym member who was following her to get instructions looked pleased, too, probably envisioning her own future success.

As I was leaving the gym, the staffer came up to me again and told me any time I had any questions, I should ask her. She also reminded me that, since I've lost so much weight, I need to get used to my new body and make sure I'm using the equipment properly.

I thanked her the advice but didn't thank her for the one thing she said that really made my day, when she said I was a "pretty little person."

It snowed yesterday afternoon, and though it snowed for several hours, we didn't get much accumulation, about an inch. I was just about to sit down to dinner when I heard a knock on the door.

A teenage boy stood on the steps with a shovel. He asked me if I wanted my walk shoveled. Now, my walk is small: about 10 sidewalk squares total, if you count the part that runs up to the porch. What's more, the neighbor upstairs usually shovels it if I don't get a chance.

But I asked the teen how much he'd want for the job.

"Twenty bucks," he said, with a smile on his face.

"No way," I said, and went to close to the door.

He knocked the price down to $10, and then to $7, but I just mumbled that it was too much and closed the door. I felt bad about it for a short while, but figured it was for the best. Otherwise, every time we had a dusting of snow, he'd be back.

Usually, I have a lot of trouble saying no. It gets easier with practice, I'm discovering.

With the snow, the bitter cold weather finally broke, and it's finally a good temperature to go outside. Una got all excited when I got our her snow booties this morning. She loves the snow, especially when it's fresh.

Copyright 2005 by Alyce Wilson

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