(I’ve always had a weight problem. I have a history of diabetes type 1 and 2 in the family and I often flirt between normal and pre-diabetic. As a result, I try to keep my weight down, but it isn’t easy, particularly belly weight which is the worst for diabetics. I take up running, and at first, I lose a lot of weight. Then, I rebound and my weight is higher than ever. I’m still running and mixing in different exercises to try to regain control. I often run through a local park. The neighborhood is rather diverse, but there is a large population of people of a particular nationality that wear traditional garb. The men congregate at the benches, and one day they flag me down.)

Man #1: “We noticed that you are out here a lot.”

Me: “Yeah, I’m trying to lose some weight.”

Man #1: “You are overweight.”

Me: *laughs nervously*

(I jog away, chalking it up to cultural differences. But yeah, that’s why I’m out here! I’m out there again on a different day, and I run into a different guy at the same park. He is on a bike and he stops me.)

Man #2: “You are always out here!”

Me: “Yeah.”

Man #2: “How far?”

Me: “Oh, three or four miles today.”

Man #2: *nods like that’s good* “How old are you?”

(Odd question, but okay.)

Me: “Thirty-three.”

Man #2: “You have babies?”

Me: “Nope, just a cat.”

Man #2: “No husband?”

Me: *starting to wonder* “No?”

Man #2: *nods again and pedals away*

(I think this is weird, and now I’m wondering if I’m being set up. This last encounter happens at the same park but on a different day with a different guy.)

Man #3: “You losing weight?”

Me: “A little bit, but not as much as I’d like to.”

Man #3: “You need to lose more.”

(Maybe I should stop running through the park.)

I was enjoying a beer with my husband at a local pub near a well-respected university when we overheard two local, college-age girls discussing languages. One girl was from Israel and her American friend was asking which dialect of Hebrew she spoke. The Israeli said, “Just Hebrew.” Her friend kept repeating her question and went on to explain how folks in different countries, like Mexico, have different dialects. My favorite example she gave was the “Guacamolans” and how they speak differently from other Mexicans. It took everything we had not to laugh out loud.

About one weekend a month, I do archery competitions where I walk with a group of four through the forest, shooting foam animals along a path. It’s idyllic, and it’s great to keep up with my archery friends.

One such weekend, the first target to shoot was a deer. We were standing 15 meters from it, one of us aiming, when a woman came screaming from her car which was haphazardly stopped at the side of the road.

Astonished, my friend quickly un-nocked his arrow as she lept between us and the target. We were shocked at her ranting until we deciphered that she was under the impression that our target was a real deer and it was tied in place. We tried to explain and to tell her to turn and look, but she was having none of it.

With other archers coming out of the woods to see what was going on, I slipped past her — a feat in itself because she was still desperate to protect this “poor animal” — and pulled the removable head off the deer.

Rendered speechless for a really long time, she then snapped out of it, yelling at us for shooting at tied-up animals as she stormed back to her car.

The people putting on the shoot traded out the deer — the only target visible from the road — for a two-meter-tall cobra that had been further down the path. No one bothered us about shooting at that thing.

(I walk to a local chain coffee shop every day in the summer. I like to sit at the tables outside and write. One of the tables happens to be right next to an ATM for a bank. It’s a beautiful, sunny day but with a stiff breeze, so I sit next to the ATM to block the wind. I’m enjoying my iced latte and typing on my laptop when a woman parks her large, expensive SUV and comes up to me. She says something, but I have my headphones in. She stands there, so I take my headphones out to be polite.)

Woman: “Are you hacking into that ATM?”

Me: *thinking she’s joking* “Ha, yeah.”

Woman: “Are you hacking into that ATM?”

Me: *realizing she’s not joking* “Uh, no.”

Woman: “You’re stealing people’s information! You are! You’re hacking into that with your computer!”

Me: “…”

Woman: “You’re taking pictures of everyone and stealing their PINs! I’m going to report you! They’re going to arrest you!”

(She goes into the café, and when she comes out she points at me and gets back in her expensive car and drives off. Starting to become concerned, I wander in.)

Me: *to barista* “Did some whackadoo lady come in here and say I was hacking into the ATM?”

Barista: “Yeah, that lady is crazy. We told her you’re in here all the time, and she told us she wanted us to call the police because you were stealing from the ATM. I don’t know why she told us. We don’t care. We don’t own the ATM!”

(God, I love baristas.)

(My partner has two young boys from his previous relationship. We take them to our local park one Saturday afternoon for a walk and let them have a bit of time in the play area. My partner goes to the play equipment with them to supervise while I sit on the wall at the side just enjoying the sunshine. I’m pretty zoned out, just relaxing, when a man comes and sits next to me. I pay him no mind and carry on just chilling until he starts speaking to me.)

Man: “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Me: “Yeah, very nice.”

Man: “Nice to get the kids out for a bit, eh?”

Me: *nods head*

Man: “I see you’ve suffered from the same problem my ex-wife had.”

Me: *confused* “I’m sorry?”

Man: *looks me up and down* “Well, you clearly didn’t get your figure back after having them two, did you? My ex-wife had the same; that’s why she’s my ex!” *laughs as if this is the most hilarious thing*

Me: *just stares at him, gob-smacked*

Man: “Better mind that man of yours doesn’t do the same, or you’ll be stuck with them boys on your own!” *winks at me*

Me: *finally regaining enough composure to respond* “Firstly, it’s none of your business; secondly, they’re not my kids; and thirdly, I think she’s better off without your judgmental a** around, to be honest!”

(With that I got up and went over to my partner, leaving that man sat on the wall looking rather shocked. When I told my partner about it, he was obviously fuming, but when I went to point the guy out he’d completely vanished. I mean, I know I’m not exactly skinny, but what on earth gives him the idea that comments like that are acceptable?!)