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I Just Don’t Understand Thin People

October 10, 2011

Last week I had a bunch of appointments drumming up new clients.  It was a great week with lots of promising leads and even picked up a few on the spot.

There was one client that perplexed me — ok, maybe perplexed isn’t the right adjective, but I’m pretty sure legal won’t let me say the “right” adjective.

We had sent some samples to an out-of-state client and I had called looking for feedback.  She said that she thought our smalls were big.  I was surprised as we have yet to get any comments that our sizing is big, but collect the data, and am ready to ask her more probing questions, when she fires off the big one, “You just don’t understand thin people.”

Huh?  How thin IS she?   Did I send her a sample that was mistagged?  Or more troubling — is she calling me FAT?!?!

She sent the samples to another customer (presumably a customer that likes to frequent the buffets) and she’ll give me feedback next week.

Totally annoyed, and apparently well in need of a workout, I decide I need to understand thin people.  So I do my Tracy Anderson Metamorphosis DVD.  I’m on Day 10, which means time to measure!  And there is nothing that women look forward to more than measuring their problem areas, right?

The scale has moved slightly downward, and I’m feeling less “loose in the cage” so I’m anticipating a good measuring.

Start with the thighs.  No change

Ah well, my legs are my best feature — no worries.

Move to my hips.  No change.

Ok, not thrilled, but waist is next, and I’m SURE there is a change there.

Measure waist.  No change.  I pull the tape tighter until I can feel my internal organs — ok, now there is a slight change. There is also a 1″ band now permanently marked into my skin.

Next measure bust.  Lost 1/2 inch.  WTH?!?!?

Seriously?  I work my *** off and the only place I’m losing weight is the exact place I don’t want to?!  This may be the first workout that I want my pre-body back.

I fire off an email to Tracy’s staff asking if they have a deal with a plastic surgeon.  Because at the rate I’m going, I’ll be looking more like a 13-year-old boy than the chiseled Tracy.  No reply.  Figures.  They are all probably out exercising — all day.  Me?  Off to the buffet.

 

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