It's Saturday - which means weigh-in day for me. I got a little nervous as I stepped onto the scale in the gym. I've plateaud at the same weight for the past 2 weeks and really wanted to see the scale lower. (I've been getting tons of compliments, but those mean nothing to me if the number doesn't change).
And it was lower. By 2 pounds. I have now lost 10 pounds in the past 3 months. I was so happy.
Fast forward 15 minutes.
I was hauling butt on the stairmaster when the foot pedal completely broke off the machine, sending me flying towards the floor in a sweaty panic.
I called over one of the workers to show him the broken machine. After inspecting the foot-step-thing he turned to me and said in Chin.ese, "You are to fat to do this machine."
AWESOME, THANKS CH.INA, LOVE YOU, TOO. (of course the broken pedal has ntohing to do with the fact that all Chin.ese equipment is shoddy and ill-kept.)
I went to the locker room and cried. And called my gym-buddy/classmate/fave british person, Steph for some moral support. "I broke the machine and they called me fat, I can't ever go here again. I'm so fat," I said.
"You are not fat. Get your butt back on the machine and don't listen to those ignorant people," she said.
So I did.
It's hard to be called fat to your face every day of your life.
It's really, really hard.
Come on, Ch.ina....grow up. You embarrass yourself....not me.
walk slow. xoxo.