I’ve been swimming in the mornings lately. Nice brisk athletic swims for about 45 min/day. I love the swimming part but I loathe exiting and entering the gym proper. There’s something about a one-legged woman on crutches that just sticks out like a sore thumb in a space devoted to ‘fit-ness.’
Yesterday there was this huge-mongous mass of preteen boys and their parents at the gym registering for some kind of basketball camp. No kidding, there were at least 200 people milling around in the doorways to the Rec Center. I tried to crutch through the crowd rather nonchalantly, but it wasn’t easy to have the crowd parting before me like the Red Sea of Stares. Conversations silencing as I pretended not to notice how many people were gaping.
When I went through my second set of doors somone’s mother made this HUGE show of rushing over to the glass doors to open them for me. Making it much more awkward for me to get through, actually, then if she’d let me open them myself.
I seriously considered backing up and going through a different door. Or taking a moment to tell her that I didn’t appreciate the way she made me feel when she did that.
Instead I just refused to verbally or visually acknowledge her actions. I just walked through the doors looking forward to the solitude of the water–where there would be no doors.
When I came home there was someone loading a moving van who had parked his vehicle across all of the disabled parking spaces in front of my apartment. I parked not too far away and then slowly crutched past the loading gate for the truck (which nearly completely blocked the sidewalk to my place). I made eye contact with him and didn’t smile or respond when he said ‘hi’ to me.