04 April 2012
Stinky Mean People Need Love, Too.
This photo has nothing to do with this post. I am just very pleased with it, so I am throwing it in for your benefit.
I have two demographics of people to defend today.
First, I have seen a few people complain on facebook lately about people smelling bad at the gym. These people admonish the stinky ones to apply deodorant and shower before going to the gym. My response to that is ... really? You really think people should shower and put on extra deodorant so they can go sweat until they stink and need a shower again? Maybe these people don't live in the desert like I do, but around here water is a precious commodity. I yell at my kids for wasting it. And I have no problem with a whiff of stench at the gym that may have saved a few gallons of water.
Furthermore, I think one of the benefits of exercise is that it expels toxins from your system, often via the body's natural expulsion system, also known as the sweat glands. I go to the gym to exercise many of my parts, but not necessarily to give my armpits a workout. I think running outside might benefit these sensitive-nosed people. I am not saying I enjoy smelling body odor, but if I am at the gym, I expect it to smell like a gym. It is the gym. It is just like a farm is a farm. There is manure, and it smells. So if you forgot to re-apply your deodorant, and you see me at the gym, don't worry. I am not judging you. I wait to shower until I go home.
Now, for Mean People. The other day I was picking up my carpool, and as I drove up to the fire lane, where a large majority of parents park briefly during pickup times, I noticed that my carpool kids were not in their normal spot. I stopped my car, and got out to go find them. That is, I started to get out. Then a Mean Lady immediately came up to me and said, "Excuse me! You cannot park there. Please go park over there," and she pointed across the parking lot, a vast twenty feet away.
I was pretty mad. It was not in the least convenient for me to get back in the car, restart the engine, and repark. I expected those kids to pop out from behind a pole and jump in my car any second, and now I would have to spend possibly an extra two minutes to park and go find them. I was also embarrassed and upset because that rule is not applied consistently from day to day at the school. I think the teachers take turns, and some of them are Mean, and some of them are Nice. The Nice ones let you park a minute and drive on through after loading. The lane is also usually backed up on the Nice One days.
This day, though, those kids did not pop right out. They were wandering all over creation looking for one girl's lost hair bow. After an incredible journey involving a locked door, a teacher who left early, and No Hairbow, the children showed up about seven minutes later. But I digress. It took a long time for me to find them. And when I did I scolded them loudly for not waiting by the flag pole. "I got in trouble with a MEAN LADY because you guys didn't wait where you were supposed to," I said, just loudly enough that I passively aggressively suspected she might hear.
Later, I thought about this situation. I composed a letter to the principal in my mind about how the rules are applied inconsistently, which is not Fair. As I composed the letter in my mind I realized that it is actually the Mean Lady who gets the worst of it when she doesn't really deserve it. We all get mad at her for applying the rule conservatively, even when she keeps the traffic moving smoothest and best.
So instead of an angry letter to the principal, I began composing a mental blog post about the glories of Mean Ladies. I consider myself a Mean Lady. If kids are up to no good, I get after them. In fact, I would venture to say that I might be the Meanest Aunt of all of my nieces and nephews. One of my nephews is more afraid of me than he is of his own mother because I am so Mean. He even obeys me better sometimes. Mean has its benefits in this instance.
So next time you smell a stinky person at the gym, or get angry at a mean lady, just think. The stinky mean one might be you, and you need love, too. At least, I know I do.