I used to hate women who showed up at the grocery store in their workout clothes. I viewed each one of them as a mockery of my inability to find the time or energy to exercise. It was as if they flaunted their self-discipline in front of me. And I hated them for it.
But lately I’ve found myself in grocery stores, sweaty and pony-tailed, my running shoes squeaking on the floor as I race through the aisles. I don’t do this to call attention to my activity, but instead as a prudent effort to keep from having to make two trips out of the house! Suddenly I understand these women I previously scorned. After all, what busy wife and/or mother, knowing she has a list of two or twenty or fifty items that must be bought that day, would pass up the grocery store on the way home? And how I look at the grocery store? I’ve long since given up caring about that!
So now I’m one of “those” women. And if you spy me grabbing cereal and milk after I’ve come from the gym, just remember that my appearance is no reflection whatsoever on yours!
Yup. I’m one of those women, too.