So this is my February/March combo post: Oh my goodness ladies are crazy.

Seriously.

I’m in the waiting room at the hospital, trying to quietly freak out with some dignity while my husband has a minor, routine joint cleanout, and there are some ladies behind me seriously testing the whole “quiet dignity” part of my day.

Okay, maybe I’m not that dignified anyway, but if I’m in here much longer, I might actually be tempted to say something.

They’re talking about how much they wish they had a serious illness so they could lose some weight. For reals. And then, when I turned around to “look at the clock” (because I’m super sneaky like that), I realized they weren’t two teenagers or someone extremely overweight, or someone who maybe is really suffering because of weight.

Both in their 50s, both a size six or so.

Right?

You’d rather make your family worry, and spend thousands and thousands of dollars to maybe be a size or two smaller?

Wow.

Is fat that bad? Are we all so afraid of having a little extra padding that it’s become the worse thing in the world? I mean, this is not the question of extra weight and health, this is just some ladies wanting to squeeze into a size two and being willing to “get some of that coronavirus, just for like a week or two” to do so.

Sometimes I enjoy being able to hear other people talking, but this is not one of those times.

Ugh, you two. Just, ugh.

Happy fricking Friday.