Today marks two pebble stones for this year: 1) Day 10 of getting 8 hours of sleep each night and 2) having 3 people who aren't a part of my everyday social sphere tell me that I need to change something about me -- two suggestions for improvement were directed at my personal appearance and one suggestion was to be "less nice."
Let me first elaborate on the first pebble. The reason why I have gotten 8 hours of sleep for the past 10 days is that since I've returned from my mini-holiday in Bahrain, I've made it a point to do work at work (except scanning and printing lesson materials) and home at home. This small adjustment in my schedule has put me in a position where I can now devote evenings to exercise, book reading, Bible devotion, and writing. Not all at the same time, but doing things that I find personally constructive. Also, I've quit Muscat Singers for this season to free up my Saturday evenings and weekends for exercise.
With the new time, I have:
1. Read a 300-page Amish "romance novel" given to me by a friend
2. Read 100 more pages of Birds without Wings
3. Kept on my daily Hughes devotional plan (also given to me by a friend)
4. Taken quality time to pray
5. Caught up on some personal e-mail
6. Exercised everyday by either going to the gym to bike/treadmill for an hour or go for an 8km corniche walk every other night. In the past week, I've walked nearly 30 km.
Professionally, I have:
1. Planned an outline and half the materials for a study skills textbook that another colleague and I are writing for beginning-level students
2. Met with and started to develop a good rapport with 39 new Level 5 Science students
3. Juggled numerous schedule changes
4. Juggled numerous meetings
With all of this bustling output of professional and personal industry accomplished, I share with you an interpersonal exchange I experienced today at the pool:
Setting: Staff club pool. It is 14.15 on a Friday afternoon, which means it is 'ladies swim time,' which means that only ladies can be in the pool area. I like coming during ladies time because it usually guarantees no screaming children and no male perverts stealing an oggle or two while they "read their newspapers." The weather today is in the upper 70s (Fahrenheit). There are minimal clouds in the sky.
Characters:
"Meddling Woman" (from here on referred to as MW) - a Pakistani woman in her mid- to late 40s who weighs nearly 300 pounds, is diabetic, Muslim, and divulges (without prompting) more information about her grown children and husband than most care to hear about. She speaks with a notable Urdo-influenced accent to her English.
Me - an American woman in her late 20s who is obese, enjoys exercising in silence, and doesn't like to divulge information about herself with strangers.
To pre-empt this story, I went to ladies swim last week with RP, when we met MW for the first time. This exchange is the second encounter that I have had with MW.
After showering off in my bathing suit, I set my stuff on a table and chair under the screened awning of the eating area next to the pool. I see MW swimming slow laps with sunglasses and a baseball cap on. I say a casual hello, with her name as a tag to communicate to her that I remember who she is. She says hello back. I enter the pool via the side ladder in the shallow end, adjust to the water temperature, and walk to the other half of the pool, giving myself a 3-lane distance between us so that I can do 20 minutes of laps as a warm-up. 12 minutes into my breaststroke, she calls to me, "You know I already did 2km of walking in the gym before coming here."
Me: Oh, that's great. (I continue swimming)
MW: Now I'm finishing my laps. I've been here such a long time.
Me: That's good. What time is ladies swim over?
MW: 3:30pm.
Me: (I look at the clock. It reads 14.32.) Oh, plenty of time. Thanks. (I touch the end of the pool and turn to my back for what I call an underwater arm backstroke, but a better swimmer can give a more technical term. I get half-way through a lap length when MW tries to continue the conversation.)
MW: Do you often come to the pool?
Me: No. I usually come here in the evenings, but for the gym.
MW: Ah, you go to the gym, too?
Me: Yes, but not everyday. I toggle between the gym and going to the corniche for a walk.
MW: And how old are you?
Me: I'm 28.
MW: Ah, just like my son.
I'll spare you the details of this one-minute interlude totally dedicated to promoting her son, but I learn that he was born in 1982, like me. The son is Omani-Pakistani, as MW's husband is Omani; he lives in Australia and will marry an Australian Christian girl this December, thus MW is trying to lose weight for the wedding. This I learned during last week's swim when MW cornered RP in the shallow end. I try to continue swimming towards the shallow end to finish the lap, but by this time, MW has made her way to where I am in the pool, and I am cornered, just as RP was last week. The water is too shallow to float comfortably, so I try to do plie movements to work my legs.
MW: You know, you should really exercise and keep at it. Ma sha' Allah, you have a nice face. You need to lose weight now while you are young. Not like me, trying to lose weight.
Me: (I start to feel uncomfortable, but I nod my head and smile to express that I have heard what she just said).
MW: Do you have a problem with your thyroid? Have you had someone check it?
Me: (Feeling a little irritated) No, my thyroid is fine. The doctor said it is fine.
MW: I was recently diagnosed with this hypothyroid problem. I now have medicine for it.
Me: I'm sorry to hear that. I have a friend with the same thing.
MW: Is this your first time in the Gulf?
Me: No. I was in Saudi Arabia before this.
MW: You need to keep with the exercise. I mean, ma sha' Allah, you have some really nice features (she makes a circular sweeping motion over her face with her right index finger), so you don't want to waste that.
At this point, I must have either shown something in my facial expressions or communicated enough in my efforts to start plie-ing away from her that what she is saying might be "a little off" because she then says...
MW: I hope you are not offended. You are like my daughter.
Me: (I say this with the best fake smile that I can pass off as a genuine smile) -- Well, what you're saying is a little offensive, -- (2-second pause) -- but I think your intentions are trying to be good.
MW: You are like my daughter.
Me: How old is your daughter?
MW: 27. My daughter is 27 and my son is 29. You are between them. I feel like you are my daughter, and that I can say this to you. And you have to watch your food too, not eat all this junk.
She goes on to tell me all about how her son used to be overweight and teased at school by other kids calling him "Egyptian boy" (I don't get the reference), and then telling me that he was on the Atkins diet for a while and he's small again.
Me: All we can do is try. (I try to be passively subversive in introducing 'we' language, while at the same time stifling a defensive, jeering reply of, "You think you know my life, but you don't. You think you have some sort of maternal authority over me, but you don't.")
MW: (Finally getting the hint) -- Well, I'll let you get back to your swimming. I am done now.
Me: Yes. Enjoy the rest of your swim. Have a good weekend.
MW swims over to the ladder to prepare to get out of the pool. I swim to the deep end of the pool and to do stretching/strengthening exercises with the bar that outlines the interior perimeter of the pool, followed by 10 minutes of treading water.
MW is slow to pack up her things and leave the pool area, so I concentrate on the feel of the sun on my face, neck, and shoulders in an effort to block out the hateful thoughts I have toward this woman. Racist and stereotypical thoughts of 'typical Pakistani and Indian mothers' begin to run through my head, and I push them out by thinking about Rajni, a very nice Pakistani woman that I knew in KSA. I think of her gentleness and the Arabic classes that we had together. These positive thoughts and fond memories, combined with the sunshine, make my heart feel warmer, and so when MW says goodbye, I am able to say goodbye back to her in a warm manner.
Today's interaction made me wonder about a lot of things about myself, especially how others see me. Do others see me as someone who is wasting herself? Maybe I should make a t-shirt that says "Yes, I acknowledge that I'm obese, and I'm working on it. Please visit my Livestrong.com fitness tracker for evidence if you have any questions."
In a less dramatic expression, I'm grateful for those who take me for who I am and lift me up. To quote milk adverts, "It [lifting people up] does a body good."
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