anysia | A short story

I would like to relate something that happened to me sometime last year, while walking from the parking lot to the studio for dance class.

I was all tribal'd up, choli, skirt, turban, pantaloons, the whole kit and kaboodle.

An elderly lady (lady is what I thought before she opened her mouth, but that's telling the end before Iget there) looked me up and down scathingly, and said "Where are YOU going?"

I smiled, and said "Dance class at the studio."

She sneered at me and said "With that belly?"

I felt my eyebrows draw together and I said "Damned straight! I have had two babies living in here, and I am a grandmother, so PISS OFF!" and started walking past into the studio. I commented to my friend on the way in "It's stupid statements like that, that make young girls starve themselves to death." loud enough for the old biddy to hear me.

Here was this pickle barrel shaped gargoyle insulting ME on how I looked? What the surprise was to me is that a year before, I might have stared at the ground, and just shuffled into the studio without making a comment. Not anymore.

Women have to remember something: There are only 10 "Supermodels" in the world, the other 3.5 billion of us aren't. Stop letting media and fashion hype shape your thinking or warp self image.

*A*