Manners, ladies. Manners.

Last week in Zumba there were three girls watching the class through the door window to the gym. Eventually they came in and were dancing right behind me. I heard the sound of their voices and their laughing, even though I couldn't tell what they were saying. I didn't give it much thought until I saw one of them with her cell phone. Held up. While dancing. Right behind me.

I moved over, she moved over. So then I went to get water and stood behind them when I returned. And they stopped dancing and sat down against the wall behind me. So I slowly kept working my way over to the other side of the room.

While I don't mind dancing like no one is watching (when people are watching) and I am actually there for my health, I don't particularly enjoy being made fun of. Believe me, I completely understand I've got this whole thing going on:

 

Any of us that have extra jiggle in our wiggle...WE KNOW. Chances are that extra jiggle is exactly why we are in that class/program/activity.  And, depending on the type of class and the people that attend, some are a lot easier to walk into than others. Some of them take a lot of courage. Some of them take borrowed strength from a higher power.

I don't know if she was taking pictures or recording a video. I have no proof that she was doing either. But if it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, and looks like a duck? It's probably a duck.

I love that the Zumba instructor made them leave when she noticed they stopped dancing. And while I'm pretty secure with myself, it doesn't mean I want to watch myself from behind in a Zumba class. I wouldn't want to even if I looked like this:

photo credit personaltrainermornington.com.au

 Fitness comes in all shapes and sizes. Were I standing in class sucking down a milkshake and mainlining chocolate while half-assing the workout, then sure. Comment. Take a picture. Make a video.

It took me a year to work up the courage to start going to classes where I live now, because the disdain for overweight people is palpable. And it seems to be assumed that if you are heavy, there's no way you could be living a healthy lifestyle. Or a good person. And I notice the looks and hear the commentary and the laughter. And yes, it hurts my feelings. I've battled a weight problem all my life and I'll probably battle it until I die. Some days are better than others. But when someone is obviously trying (and the sweat pouring off me was obvious proof), how about just leaving them alone to do their thing?

Manners. It's what's for dinner.