Dear Woman at the gym,
I’m sorry that my car was in your way when you decided to swing your own car door into it in the car park today and I’m sorry that I didn’t meet your entirely insincere apology with acceptance. I’m sorry that I flipped you the bird after you asked me “what my fucking problem was” when I just shrugged after you screeched “I DID SAY SORRY” through my car window.
I’m sorry that you felt the need to start throwing petty insults at me as you walked away and I’m sorry that I sank to your level when I got out of the car to confront you about your aggressive and abusive demeanour. I’m sorry that you decided to stoop even lower and start insulting my appearance, my weight and my apparent lack of effort at the gym. I’m sorry that you felt the need to tell me that I should “get my fat arse to a personal trainer” because you didn’t actually see me squat 45kg, deadlift 65kg and bust out my overhead press, despite fucking HATING that lift.
I’m sorry that I don’t wear make-up to the gym, like you. I’m sorry I don’t look good in lycra yet. I’m sorry that I don’t see the point in blowdrying my hair before I lug heavy weights around. I’m sorry that my car was obviously an indicator of how “poor” I am, according to your words. I’m sorry that after absorbing your nasty words I sank even lower to meet you in the gutter and hurl insults back at you.
I’m NOT sorry that I called you an old hag, because damn it felt good to give you a taste of your own medicine.
I’m sorry that I’ve spent all day stewing over your words. I’m sorry that I’ve given you space inside my head that you seriously don’t deserve. I’m sorry about whatever happened to you today to make you behave so randomly aggressive towards me for no reason. I’m sorry that your world view makes you think you’re somehow better than me because you weigh less. Your behaviour today is the biggest indicator that this isn’t true.
I’m sorry that men get SO much of the blame about being intimidating to women when it’s actually women like YOU who are a betrayal of the sisterhood, a reason that some women may not even have the courage to venture into the gym. I’m sorry that there are probably women out there who are sacrificing their health so they don’t encounter bitches like you in the a place where people should all be supporting each other. I’m sorry that your life is so shitty that you need to take it out on other people. I’m sorry that I burst into tears in Waitrose, after the adrenaline had dissipated, because your words had actually really hurt me.
I’m NOT sorry that, actually, FUCK YOU lady, I won’t let your words bother me any longer, I’m not sorry that I’ve decided to be happy and positive and carry on doing what I’m doing despite your efforts to hurt me. I’m NOT sorry that you no longer have space inside my head. I’m NOT sorry that I’m choosing the supportive words of my daughters, my sister-in-law, mother-in-law and all the female friends who’ve given me encouragement as the ones I choose to listen to, instead of a woman like you who needs to cut others down in order to lift yourself up, because that’s just sad.
What’s that old quote? I won’t always be fat, but you’ll always be a c*nt. Or something like that…
The Woman in the Silver Car (with a small dent in the door, which I’ll shortly be reporting to my insurance company, along with your registration plate and the CCTV from the gym…)