She notices me from afar, pushing my trolley at the supermarket, and really not bothering anyone. She speeds towards me, folding her face into a grimace of a pity party as she approaches.
- How are you?
Naively, I thought I could just return the question and go on with my shopping, but no. The supporters of certain health-related ideology never miss a chnace to share thier views. Her pity gets more intense as she reaches me. I am divorced, after all, therefore - her job is to nod at my complaints.
- I am good, - I reply, - how 'bout you?
- Oh, but really, how are you doing? - the pity overspilleth. Well, I never miss a chance to rip people's expectations of me to shreds.
- I am celebrating life, - I say. - it's absolutely wonderful and highly recommended. I do what I want, you know... working in my three favourite jobs and dealing with my four favourite kids.
The pity party won't give up.
- Oh, but how's your health? - I did not realize I had reached an age when this becomes an apropriate question. She glances at my trolley, which is full of veg, as pretty much always. Then she checks my waist circumference, and finds it overly expanded, I think.
- It's wonderful! I am doing absolutely great! - I think I'm overdoing it. - and you?
- I'm sure, you seem to be eating right to stay healthy.
Thank you, woman, I happen to have a diploma in holistic nutrition. Amen to that.
But there are other people in my house, and they are not raving health fanatics, and I will honour that, you know. My crazy is my business and stays at home. And the kids get to eat what they like at least half the time.
I listen to a bit more ideology talk, and how stupid everybody is to not live in the only right way to live (alas, I've been hearing it since age 5, about different things, and I am thankfully immune to such brainwashing.) They also said this about Communism, you know.
She is distracted by another raving health freak, as I cautiosly retreat into the junk snacks area - no way on earth she'd look for me there. I hug a packet of bamba to recover my senses... I am still too sore from my weights workout yesterday to properly run away, and then what about the shopping.
Dear people, chill. Live and let live.
And I drink Coke at kiddushes in Shul. But please, don't tell anyone.
