A Girl Like Me

article by MEREDITH MCKINNIE

Morning walks are my summer indulgence. As the weather has warmed, I’ve adjusted to rising earlier, plugging in my ear buds, and tuning out the world for an hour while I pace the neighborhood. I see the same faces. I’ve gotten accustomed to other neighborhood walkers’ schedules. The man on the corner surfaces shortly before 8 am. We will pass each other no less than three times with a brief nod and raised hand. The lady a few streets over with the immaculately groomed yard makes one big loop around the entire island, carrying a bag of cat food to make sure the strays are being fed. It took me a few weeks to discover the contents of her mysterious bag; when I saw her knelt in the corner of the street with a white feline, my heart melted. The pregnant woman on the south side of the island finally gave birth a few days ago, a baby girl. I wondered if her absence meant the little one had taken her first breath; Facebook confirmed the blessing. I don’t know many of my neighbors by name, but I do know them by their routines. We call the same space on the island home.

During the shutdown, my husband and I would take our daughters on walks, as the weather allowed for midday jaunts. But now, the venture is solely mine, and I anticipate my introduction to each new day in solitude. A few days ago, I was wrapping up my third mile, two streets from home, when a truck pulled over to my side of the street. My stomach dropped. I recognized the man, but had a feeling the interaction would not be desirable. He asked if he could bother me. Simply the phrasing of the question put me off. If you think you’re going to be bothersome, perhaps don’t be. He handed me a packet through the window, insisting its contents could help me. It was some pill or program for weight loss, he told me, and my entire body stiffened. I felt immediately on defense. I quickly said “no, thank you,” and kept walking, setting the packet on his back bumper. I wouldn’t be needing it. He didn’t take the hint, instead backing up and claiming he didn’t mean to offend me. I turned in irritation and told him I didn’t want to talk, and when he kept on, I quickly walked away. When I made the corner onto my street, he was still sitting in the truck on the side of the road, probably trying to make sense of what went wrong.

I don’t understand why people think these comments are acceptable or even helpful. What did he expect me to say, that this is exactly what I had been waiting for? If only I had this magic pill that I could solve my problem that I never acknowledged as a problem. I cringe when I hear of people encountering these exchanges where strangers seem intent on saving you from your own body. I’ve had similar experiences at the gym, no surprise, when a stranger insisted my sprinting on the treadmill would damage my knees because I was overweight, or the real gem, the man who had seen me on the elliptical every day claiming if I kept it up that I could get a boyfriend. His assumption that a girl like me couldn’t possibly have a significant other wasn’t even the worst part, but rather that he thought his commentary was complimentary. The gym incidents happened a few years ago, and I did alter my behavior. I didn’t want confrontation, and avoided running into those men. I inconvenienced myself because of their actions. And they weren’t even worth that.

When I walked up my driveway after the exchange in the street, my husband was watering the plants, and immediately sensed my abnormal mood. When I told him, he pursed his lips, probably frustration at his not being there and disappointment in his wife’s feelings being hurt. I’m glad he wasn’t there; it would have only compounded my embarrassment. Some topics just shouldn’t be broached, particularly from strangers. You simply can’t know the other person’s experiences, and we shouldn’t assume they want or need unsolicited criticism or unsought help. Aside from the sensitivity of that particular topic, I wish we all would take a moment, and consider our words and whether the intention is really to help or to shame. And could those words potentially hurt someone?

The next morning, I woke at my regular time, plugged in my earbuds, and set off on my neighborhood route. I waved at the man from the corner, witnessed a feline feeding, and saw a pink sign welcoming home a baby girl. I didn’t let the previous day ruin the next one. I can’t guarantee something similar won’t happen again, but I can refuse to let it alter my behavior. I walk because it makes me feel good, and self-care is always a worthy undertaking.