Yes, This Really Happened

After my bi-weekly workout at the local gym, I stepped into the locker room to retrieve my purse and jacket. The place was filled with neatly-coiffed, attractive women who'd just finished  an aerobics class. They radiated health and warmth, comfort and sunshine, well-appointed homesteads and handsome, happy husbands. They were pillars-of-the-community types, comfortable in their own skins. If these women had jobs, the jobs probably did not involve wearing silly uniforms.  I suspected none of them had ever dyed their hair purple while drunk or spent a week in bed eating potato chips. I sensed they were strangers to existential dilemmas.

In short: these lovely and law-abiding females were not my group.

I felt safe in my anonymity as I strode toward my locker. To these women, I was invisible, a passing stranger in their midst. They were too busy chatting  in gentle, hushed voices to pay attention to me.

Suddenly I spotted a scale. It was a gadgety-looking thing, a platform attached to a wall-mounted remote display. Wondering how I translate into pounds these days, I slipped off my shoes and stepped onto the platform.

 As I pressed the "on" button, the wall-mounted display fell onto the floor with a clatter.  The women stopped what they were doing and stared at me.

"I think I broke it," I said sheepishly. 

Suddenly the women began to cheer. Some of them ran forward to hug me. They thanked me and said I was their hero. They said my secret was safe with them and they'd never tell the authorities I broke the scale. They said they hated that stupid thing and were glad someone had finally managed to break it.

I guess there's a little bit of outlaw in everyone, given the right situation.