Last night a group of Brazilian models came to my pilates class. It was not, how shall we say, entirely motivational for me. But it was fascinating. They were very long-limbed and talkative. One of them crouched down beside the other and I swear to god, she was still taller than me. Before class began, I was outside in the hall staring at them and doing the thing in my head where I go “Stop staring” to myself, but myself doesn’t really listen. When I saw a friend from class standing with her husband up at the front desk, it seemed like a good opportunity to walk away and try to act like a normal person.
“There are models coming to our class.” I said, and I agree with any of you who think that’s not the most normal of the things I could have said.
However, it turned out that compared to some people, I am generally in control of myself. Because that was when I learned a bit about the husband, who I will call Ned. Ned eyes bugged out of his head, and his voice rose as he said something along the lines of “Don’t let the models bother you! Models are just tall, thin, weird-looking people. They’re idiots with heads full of rocks. They’re only important because you can paint them and take their pictures. Soon they’ll be replaced by robots.”
Me, in my head: Whoa. Let’s walk away.
Me, out loud: "Umm. Hmmm."
This actually went on slightly longer than I would have liked and after nodding a few times, I did turn to walk away, 100% sure that at some point in his past, Ned was jumped by a gang of supermodels and given one mean wedgie.
Jack is TWO!
2 years ago