An Open Letter

There are lots of swear words in this post.

Today I witnessed one human being degrading another. I stepped in because my brain short circuited and I began to froth at the mouth.

The Players:
SB (Skinny Bitch): mid-30’s, mom jeans, Monica shoes, 1990 hair cut. So skinny, I can see blue veins on her forehead. She has no lips.
SBF (Skinny Bitch’s Friend): mid-30’s, cute city shirts, pink polo, blonde pony-tail. Cute. Curves.
Me: me

The Scene:
Barnes & Noble’s parking lot, behind and beside my vehicle. It is cloudy, on the verge of an Autumn rain. Marathon/road race season.

SB: oh, no, honey! You can’t finish a marathon! How much do you weigh?!

SBF: (sheepishly) 135…

SB: no way you can expect your poor knees to carry you so far! Look, I weigh 108 and I bonked at mile 18. If i can’t finish, no WAY you can. You’ll die!

SBF: but my training is going good…I’m up to 15 miles…

SB: well, you’d better stop right there until you lose AT LeAST 20 pounds. Your knees will explode and you’ll be so slow! You can’t… [to me] I’m sorry…can I help you?

[at this point, I have stopped all brain function and am so angry I am holding back tears. My mouth agape, I had been openly staring at SB and her root-infested nappy head]

Me: I can’t believe you’re telling your friend this load of CRAP! She sure as hell can finish a marathon if she wants to!

SB: who are you? You clearly aren’t familiar with road racing, much less marathoning. You’re far too heavy to understand what’s going on here.

Me: FIRST of all, I did finish a marathon. And you know who finished in FRONT of me?! A woman 4 feet tall and five feet wide! AND an old man with ONE leg! AND every other corpse in motion because I finished LAST. Secondly: your friend is beautiful and strong and healthy and you’re just jealous because the last time YOU saw boobs was when you watched the Playboy channel. You have NO right dispensing advice, you skinny mom-Jean wearing Nelly Olsen. Thirdly, [to SBF] YOU need new friends. [to SB] I have a marathon finisher’s medal on my fridge and you know what?! MY FAT ASS EARNED IT. You’re nothing but a Skinny Bitch without heart enough to tough it out to the finish! I weighed forty more pounds than this chick when I waddled across the line…who are YOU? Are you from the frickin’ GOVERNMENT or are you just that ridiculous?! Fact check yourself, female.

…and with that, I slammed the tailgate and drove away because I was crying. Tears have a way of diminishing wrath, even if it’s righteous.

I probably could’ve handled that better and it was none of my business, I know. But seriously: what kind of person tears another down like that? It was heart breaking…

So here it is: I don’t care what your body looks like and neither does the race course. It takes an incredible amount of courage for anyone to toe the starting line on race day, but I have learned that it takes Herculean strength to huddle in the back of the pack on race day. To know that you may not finish and line up anyway, to know that there will be no water left at mile 17 and line up anyway, to know the banners and crowd will all be gone as you finish and line up anyway… THAT takes guts.

So to all of you SB’s out there who think BiG Girls can’t hang: kiss my big butt…and my finisher’s medals. It may take you a while, though. I’ve got lots.


6 thoughts on “An Open Letter

  1. WHAT will I do without you? I SO wish I had been there to see their reactions when you left! The truth hurts, and I LOVE IT when folks tell it like it is! You’re golden for this race! All you have to do is think about that conversation for the next burst of energy . . .

  2. Wow, what a friend, seriously!? Good for you for sticking up for her! She should have taken you out for coffee and left SB to sulk all by her lonesome.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s