Mobility Scooters, Lavender Chocolate & A Cheeky Jamaican

So Friday is swimming day, well for Rose anyway, I just walk around the baby pool like a crab getting cramp and sing the odd nursery rhyme. But as discussed in a previous post I do normally walk the couple of miles there and back, but today I had to pop to the bank so decided to get the bus there instead.

Whilst walking through the shopping centre in Stratford, not the lovely new Westfield one, no the one that’s been there since the erm?? 60s (that’s a guess ok?) which at one point didn’t even have a Macdonalds, a KFC or a Burger King…and these things are important when you are a teenager!!

I digress…well as I was walking through the precinct I literally got stuck behind a lady in a mobility scooter, actually scrap that this thing was more like a jeep. It took up at least half of the walkway and people were diving out of her way as she zoomed around with her teenage daughter at her side.

Now, this lady was large. Very large…as she was sitting down it was hard to say just how large but lets hazard a guess at about 30stone!! Her daughter who looked about 14 was at least a size 20 and together they were quite a spectacle.

Now I’m not fattist, I mean i have spent over half of my life dancing between overweight and obese on the BMI chart but I found myself thinking what support is that poor young girl getting to ensure she doesn’t end up like her mum!!

It’s so easy to judge…and I don’t know what health conditions have led to the mum being in a mobility scooter but it was obvious for all to see that her daughter was heading the same way.

I wondered for a moment if I should slip the daughter one of my new business cards with my blog address, but decided against it as I didn’t fancy being told to “Fuck Off” by the daughter or run over by the mum.

I finally bypassed them and made my way to the bus station to catch my bus, but was met by 3 pushchairs already at my bus stop, so I knew there was no way I would be getting on that 276, so I had no alternative but to try my luck at the 241 bus stop which was a ten minute walk away.

I was pushing it now as 2pm was fast approaching, and if I didn’t get to the swimming baths and get my place in the queue it was likely that we wouldn’t get to swim at all, but luckily there were no other buggies and the bus came quite promptly.

When I got off the bus in Plaistow a young chap walked up behind me and said “cute baby” in a thick West Indian accent. I thanked him and carried on towards Balaam Street Baths but he continued trying to make conversation. The long and short of it was that he was trying to chat me up, I didn’t know whether to laugh (he was only like 20 or something) or be offended, I mean come on I have a 5 month old baby with me and a huge engagement ring on my hand.

Anyway, we got to swimming just on time and had a blast. We splashed, kicked, blew bubbles and even dunked our babies completly under the water as we sung our collection of songs.

Rose is such a natural water baby, she is just so laid back in the pool, well in life generally I suppose it must be the Jamaican in her, although her Dad is not the most confident of swimmers.

I got my juneathon exercise in for the day as I walked home at the speediest of speeds and got in just before the heavens opened, and that’s been my day really.

What about the Lavender Chocolate?? Well I bought some by mistake in Holland and Barrett (how is it possible to buy chocolate by mistake I hear you ask) well it is, I was after some 80% cocoa dark chocolate to have as my Friday night treat and picked up the wrong one. Anyway it is bloody disgusting, that will teach me!!

9 Responses to “Mobility Scooters, Lavender Chocolate & A Cheeky Jamaican”
  1. chicu says:

    I have been handed weight-loss flyers, you know..and it hurt. It hurt and humiliated me Every. Single. Time . Finally, I learnt to say ‘fuck off’ and walk away- but it still hurt. Why would you do that to someone?

    • fattymustrun says:

      Well firstly I didn’t, cos I know it hurts.

      But the reason I thought about it was because sometimes intervention of any kind can kick start a new way of life. Maybe that young girl would like to take up running but wouldn’t know where to start.

      Besides, it wasn’t a weightloss flier, it was a little card with a running blog on it.

      The thing is, I know being called fat hurts…but if you are fat there is no getting away from it, I question why it is we feel so hurt?

      At 14 or so years of age that young girl still has an opportunity to make a change, in 10 years or so her life chances and choices may not be the same!!

      What do other people think??

      • chicu says:

        why it is that we feel so hurt? because as Tina says, we know we are fat..because body shape is also supposed to be a yardstick for our temperament, for our characters..because while it is no longer okay to make assumptions about a person based on his/her colour, height or boob size, it is perfectly okay to do it based on size…because while it is considered extremely rude for a stranger to step in with dating/parenting advice (and rightly so), it is evangelical to step in with advice re weight.
        you see I am not exactly cool as a cucumber about this. 😉

  2. tina says:

    Tough call. On one hand maybe the thought that someone cared enough to offer help would be encouraging. On the other, fat girls know they are fat. My former orthopaedic surgeon once said “well you know, you are a big girl.” As an explanation as to why a steroid short didn’t work, the implication being that he couldnt get it in the right spot. I was annoyed rather than hurt. I said “Really? You mean 250 is not appropriate weight for a 5foot woman? Gee I never knew that.” One of my biggest pet peeves is being mistaken for lazy, stupid and unmotivated simply because of my size.

    • fattymustrun says:

      When I have birth there were a number of issues that were related to my weight (21ish stone), it wasn’t because of my pregnancy it was because of the fat which was there before and made worse by eating too much cake.

      For example the surgeon stitching me up (tmi??) refused to help transfer me from the trolley to the bed because of my weight, he wanted backup…I was so exhausted I didn’t really take it all in. An argument ensued between about 6 members of staff before extra help was found. The surgeon apologised afterwards and explained that he had previously slipped a disk by moving an overweight patient.

      I think my response was something along the lines of “you would never guess I ran the London Marathon less than a year ago hey?”

      He went out of his way to come and find me later and he asked me more about my running.

      I took the whole embarrassing episode on the chin so to speak and it made me more determined to lose the weight ASAP

      Ever not fitted into a seat?? That’s a sure fire way of waking up and doing something about your weight – although it’s not a pleasant experience!!

  3. tina says:

    Went to an amusement park a couple of years ago with my daughter. Barely fit in some of the roller coasters.

  4. Shaz says:

    Not surprised that chocolate was disgusting it even sounds disgusting which is hard for chocolate!

  5. Almas says:

    I don’t understand all this overt sensitivity to weight. This culture is just too softly-softly!! I wish you HAD given the little girl your card! When I was at my heaviest I was in categoric denial about how grossly obese I was- perhaps that was nourished by how people would politely call me ‘curvy’ or ‘big boned’ instead of frankly acknowledging the rolls of flab staring them in the face. Harsh? Absolutely. True? Also absolutely. I don’t think you should be cut down for thinking of handing her your card. One day, you really might just change someone’s life.

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