And before I can wonder why I answer yes. And later, I’m wondering both why they asked and why I said yes. I wonder what it is like to be in a body where nobody asks you those types of questions. I wonder what it is like to be in a body where you don’t wonder.
As I’m pedalling to here and to there, for a fleeting moment in time, I’m able to forget. I just feel like I am flying – and breathing. It’s perfect motion without any judgements from my own mind or from someone elses. But then there’s the interruption. Then there’s her question. It rings in my ears and I can’t ignore it. I’m not flying anymore. I stop my bike.
We journey together, and I’m not mad. Just curious. She and I, this stranger and me, we journey together though this life. And every once and a while we notice one another. I’m just curious to know how much of you is in me, and how much of me is in you.
And so very often it is more. Because you say to me “How much weight do you want to lose?” I pluck out a number, 40lbs. You ask me how much I weigh, and I tell you 200 lbs. You tell me you thought I was about 190, which I’m elated by. Oh to be in 1derland. You ask me how much I think you weigh, and I guess 180lbs. I’m right. You tell me that you’re think you’re big and need to lose weight. I think to myself she’s quite a normal size. You eye me strangely. Connecting the dots. You pause. More dots. And flabbergasted, “Why do you want to lose so much weight?!”
So, stranger I can’t even be mad at you. Because you’re not even stopping me; you’re stopping you. You are not even conversing with me; you are conversing with you. You are no longer wondering about me – you are wondering about you. And I of course am wondering about me.
I can’t answer your question for you, and I can’t answer your question for me. But I thank you kindly for asking.