Yeesh.

Still 237.5

DC is in the midst of preparing itself for a Snowmageddon, so last night I went to the grocery store after work to stock up on a few essentials to carry me through the storm.

A reasonably common sight on street corners in DC is vendors hawking "Street Sense" which is a non-profit newspaper that deals with homelessness and is sold by the homeless as a source of income. While sometimes it can be a little "I'm just trying to walk don't shout at me," in general I've always thought it's a perfectly decent non-profit and respected their work. The vendors generally aren't rude or obstructive, and won't put pressure on you or bother you if you're waiting for a light at the same corner and have indicated you're not interested.

I say generally. There's one guy who hawks the paper on P street between 14th and 15th, right outside of CVS and next to the Whole Foods I go to. He's always been very aggressive, rude, not like the other vendors. So, you know, not a good guy, but whatever, I have my headphones in and can just zip right by. Last night, as I did so, he shouted out something along the lines of "Hey [Lady? Blondie? I couldn't tell] you know I looooooooooove big beautiful women."

Fuck you. (Not you guys!) Seriously. I do not need to be called fat on my way to Whole Foods. What a douche. I half wanted to give him a New York Salute, but instead just walked on by because, you know, I'm not an asshole like he is. I am officially NEVER buying Street Sense again. And I'm going to tell my friends never to buy Street Sense again either. Fuck him.

Needless to say, this made me a little mad. And you know, whatever, I am fat. I get it. I lost 40 pounds. I'm working on losing more. But someone essentially shouting at me on the street "Hey Fattie"? Not helpful.

Brushing it off as best I can, I go into Whole Foods. It's chaotic, at best. I manage to get fruits and veggies, milk, and get myself in one of the enormous lines. (They were actually wrapped around the aisles, it was crazy.) Right in front of me was a mother with two small children, one in a large stroller, and the other a girl of about 5 or so. Although the mother and I briefly commiserated about the length of the lines at the beginning, DC's a city, people don't really talk in the lines, and she wasn't all that comfortable in English. (It seemed like she was speaking Chinese to her children, but if you told me it was another Asian language I'd believe you.)

As I stand around waiting, I sometimes like to stand on my tip toes just to see how long I can hold it. The five year old, it seemed, was amazed by this and asked me how I did it. I showed her. This was about a 30-45 minute line, so we had plenty of time to kill. She and I ended up going through my basket food by food, with me saying "do you like bananas?" and her replying "I like bananas." After we'd been through the 12 or so items, I went into "do you like cheese more than strawberries?" and whatnot. Then I did the only economist trick that's vaguely cool to young children, by proclaiming that I knew she liked cheese more than bananas, even though she hadn't told me, because she liked cheese more than strawberries and strawberries more than bananas. Ah, to be 5 and still impressed by transitive properties and revealed preferences.

And we waited and waited.

She started asking me the same questions I asked her: "Do you like green beans?" "Do you like tomatoes?" and on and on.

And then, as we waited more, she pointed at my tummy and said "Do you have a baby in there?"

Yeesh.

I don't blame the (adorable) little kid. She obviously didn't know any better. And she certainly didn't know I'd just got called fat by the homeless guy outside.

But still, yeesh.

Still, I suppose it's all for the better. I'd hate to lose all the weight before I at least once endured an erroneous question about pregnancy.