People have been very mean to me this week.
Early in the week, I went for a physical therapy evaluation. The woman evaluating my shoulders said, “You have extremely large shoulder bones.”
“Oh,” I said, admittedly surprised. Somehow I’d managed to make it through more than four decades of life without ever having been told about my extremely large shoulder bones.
“Is that good?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “It’s terrible. It makes for all kinds of problems.”
Great. I have bad shoulders.
Three days later, I was purchasing a new shirt. A man at the store had taken my measurements, but as the saleswoman scanned them, she said, “Come here. I need to check your neck.”
“Is there a problem?” I asked.
“He wrote down that you have an 19-inch neck, but that makes no sense.”
“Why?” I asked as she wrapped the tape measure around my neck.
“Someone with your height and arm length can’t have a 19-inch neck.”
Then she measured.
“Oh,” she said.
“Was he right?” I asked.
She looked confused. “It’s not quite 19 inches, but it’s close.”
“Is that okay?” I asked.
“I’m not sure if I’ll be able to find you as shirt with a 19-inch neck that matches your sleeve length. Your size doesn’t make any sense. You’ll probably have to wear an 18-inch neck for the wedding and I can special order you a shirt for the future.”
Great. My size doesn’t make any sense.
These comments go along well with comments made by my friends in the past, including:
“You have arms like legs and legs like people.”
“You’re a neckless stump with legs for arms.”
“You’re built like a tiny T-Rex.”
Happily, none of these comments were made by Elysha.