Chubby Mommy

Since deciding that I’d start walking occasionally to lose weight, I’ve actually been somewhat good about it.

I didn’t even let the overdressed women who walk scare me off, although I admit I now wash my face then brush my teeth and hair before leaving the house. And, yes, I’m now wearing my “good” sweat suit over one of my funny t-shirts on my morning jaunt.

Now that I’ve been out a few times, I’m on a nodding acquaintance with some of the neighborhood’s walking women. Most hurry past, elbows jutting and hips akimbo, as they speed through their morning power-walking routine. Some, like me, prefer a more leisurely pace which means that we’re in each others’ line of sight for quite some time. That can actually get surprisingly awkward.

This morning, for instance, as I turned the corner onto the main street I saw a senior citizen walking woman coming toward me. I was just getting started so I hadn’t picked up my pace and she, well, she was going faster than any 75+-year-old woman I’ve seen recently but still comparatively slow.

That meant I had plenty of time to wonder: Do I just nod? Wave? Smile and make some inane remark about the weather we’re having? What is the protocol for greeting people you’ve begun to recognize as part of your morning routine without ever having exchanged names? As she approached, I saw something that quickly chased all such thoughts out of my mind.

See, while we were approaching each other head-on, someone behind her called out and she turned halfway toward them. The sun, which was starting to come up behind her, turned her figure into a silhouette. A very strange silhouette which looked oddly fuzzy. At first I thought it was my eyes, so I rubbed them as I continued to walk toward her, and she toward me.

But right about the time we were within a dozen feet of each other, I saw the cause of the fuzz: she was going commando, and her pubes were poking through those tiny little ventilation holes. Gray pubes. Wiry ones. Quite a bit of them, too, from what I could tell before I hurried past.

I hope she mistook my blush for a mid-workout glow.

I also hope she’s not going commando next time I see her walking because, honestly, there are some things I just don’t want to see first thing in the morning, and an old lady’s pubic hair is most certainly one of them.