The Absence of Athleticism
by Caroline Hellman

The other day I was at a restaurant in the middle of discussing the usual with one of my best friends--that is, people we used to swim with in high school, what they're doing now, how they're all ridiculous personalities, etc. Then a couple came into the restaurant. We glanced over, and I hope we didn't go a double take, but the couple was significantly overweight and it's likely that against our subconscious instruction not to stare, we did. I felt bad enough about this; in the meantime, the man was testing different rickety chairs at this hodge podge of a restaurant. I almost started sweating wondering if one would break when he sat down, and thinking about how horrible that would be.

Subsequently, the couple ordered desserts, and they were large enough that we perceived people in the restaurant were looking at them and probably silently questioning how why the couple was ordering dessert, why they were that size, how irresponsible and unhealthy it was.

In a brief time they got up to leave, as we dallied over cappuccino, and as they prepared to walk out, the man almost knocked over their small table. Dishes crashed to the floor and there was a huge racket. At this point the problem seemed explicit, and though he and his companion only laughed embarassedly, everyone else stared down at their plates.

The whole episode made me uncomfortable--uncomfortable for the couple who must have a difficult time going through life, and uncomfortable for the crowd around them. Though I obviously can't read minds, I would say there was a mixture of sympathy and frustration on people's faces, and neither was ideal or really appropriate.