The Compliment

While frequenting the local gym, as I'd been known to often do over the past year, I was mid leg press when I noticed something unusual.  Approaching me from a right angle with an unflinching toothy grin, a spray bottle, and the kind of plastic gloves that come in home hair-dye kits, was the little old man who I had seen regularly changing the paper towel rolls.  

He stood within one foot of me and continued to stare, expression unchanging.  I finished the press and looked over with a questioning smile.

"I see you on first day", said the man "You big and fat.  You big fat girl."

As if the comment weren't clear enough, he puffed his cheeks, raised his shoulders to his ears, and pulled his hands away from his hips to physically illustrate my apparently once uncanny resemblance the stay-puft marshmallow man.

Mouth agape, I wondered how high my eyebows actually were on my face, worried they might rise above my head, and remain suspended in the air there.

"You lose.  How much you lose?  Fifty pounds?" he asked

"I don't know."  I answered, trying to suppress the percolating laughter "I don't ...weigh ... um ... myself"

"You lose fifty pounds.  Yes."

"No, I really don't think so.  That's a bit much"

"Yes.  Fifty pounds.  Yes.  You big fat girl on first day"

There was a moment of silence as I tried to wrap my mind around what was happening.  He clearly meant it as a compliment.

"Thank you?"  I almost asked.

"You welcome!"  He replied happily "Wow.  Good for you."