Is My ass Really that Fat?
Part IV: Shut Up You Psycho Harpies.

Have you ever felt that your nice, compartmentalised world of friends has collapsed into one, giant mega-world of weird? Like, when you have office buddies and school buddies and hockey buddies and then one day they all end up at the same Xmas party and you have no idea what to do? If you've never felt this way, lucky you. If you have, though, I'm sure you can understand the vertigo I felt when I found my gym buddy, Dana, and The Three Psycho Harpies from the gym happily munching on deviled eggs at my pal Dolores's cocktail party.

I don't know how it happened. Actually, I know exactly how it happened. Earlier this year, Dolores started going to the gym with me and Dana, ostensibly to do some weight training. Dolores wasn't much for heavy lifting, so she started to hang out with Dana who's absolutely bonkers for the treadmill and aerobics classes. Dana had befriended The Three Psycho Harpies in one of the aerobics classes and Dolores, by extension, also befriended them. And thus, The Three Psycho Harpies ended up at Dolores's cocktail party.

Now, at this point, you're probably wondering two things, (1) Why should I care that The Three Psycho Harpies were at this party? and (2) Why do I keep referring to these women as The Three Psycho Harpies? I'll answer the second question first and that should clear up the first question.

The Psycho Harpies are made up of three equally unpleasant women named Ida, Uma and Ana. (No, those aren't their real names, duh!) They have this nasty judgemental tendency that can be found only in chicks who think they're hot. They come in with their outfits that match their make-up (or is it the other way around?) and sneer at my utilitarian clothes. They make condescending comments after aerobics class when I'm sweating but they're not. They've said things like, "Sandra, don't worry, one day you'll get better and you won't be so out of breath after class." To which I want to reply, "Shut up, you Psycho Harpies! At least I friggin' engage my core when doing side kicks!"

I initially escaped them by foregoing the aerobics classes and sticking to the weight room. (Dana -- and my mom, incidentally -- gave me a stern lecture about skipping my "cardio." Apparently now I'll never lose weight in time for Xmas.) Unfortunately, Ida, Uma and Ana (and Dana) read some random magazine article that said that weight training burned calories and consequently started showing up in the weight room at the same time as me. Beside interrupting my workout with idiotic gossip ("Did you know that Surfer Boy cut his hair? I wonder if he's still picking up.") The Three Harpies also insisted on asking me for weight training advice. The first few times I felt flattered and happily obliged. Then I noticed that all they did afterwards was laugh at me. Long story short, I swear they only talk to me at the gym so that they can make fun of me. It pisses me off.

So you can see why they were the last people I wanted to see at a cocktail party.

When I walked into the party, I tried to stay away from them. I found some folks I knew from grad school and tried joining into their conversation. Unfortunately, all they were doing was listing German words used in the English language (I contributed "zeitgeist," and "gedankenexperiment"), so it wasn't like I could easily ignore Dana's cries to come and join her and The Harpies.

Unsurprisingly, they were talking about working out. After a few minutes of discussions about diet and workout routines, I started to long for the German words conversation (especially since I had just thought of "ersatz," "leitmotif," "weltschmerz," and "wanderlust" ). But, alas, I was stuck in the "my boyfriend is upset that I'm losing fat in my boobs" conversation.

"See that woman over there," Ida said, as she pointed to Emanuella, one of the grad students' wives. "She's lifted weights for the past ten years and she isn't big at all!"

I couldn't believe it. "Emanuella lifts weights? She looks like she weighs all of ten pounds! The arms of her slim-fit shirt aren't even tight!"

"I know," said Uma. "Isn't it fantastic! It just shows that you don't get bulky when you do weights. For example, I'm not getting bulky; I'm just losing fat. "

With that, Uma and Ida gave me a really confrontational glare. I knew what they were thinking. I figured I'd bite. I grabbed a few high-carb goldfish crackers and said, "Wow! You're lucky you're losing fat! I'm not losing anything. I'm just getting muscular."

It worked. Ida, Uma and Ana looked at me and my crackers with a mixture of disdain and triumph. Finally, Ana broke the spell: "You aren't that muscular!"

"Really," I said, cocking my right brow. "Let's settle this like women. I challenge you to an arm-wrestling match!"

"You're on!" screamed Ana.

We threw the food off the table, much to Dolores's chagrin. Juan, Dolores's husband, started taking bets. Dolores's male workmates started meowing.

Ana and I sat across from each other, trying to stare each other down. I growled at her. Beads of sweat started to pour down her forehead. I heard Uma whisper to Dana, "Ana will win. She does a lot of cardio and only eats fish."

I totally creamed Ana.

And this totally happened in my dreams.

In real life, Ana told me that she weighed like, nothing, and Dana blurted out that I tipped the scales at 140lbs and everyone gasped in disgust. Then they all told me that diet was the answer and that I should eat fewer carbs.

At that point I got up to get a slice of cake and went back to the German words conversation (still in progress) and contributed "verboten," "hinterland," "sturm und drang" and "schadenfreude."

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