To Get Into My Uniform

A woman came into my early morning yoga class and headed straight for the scale. Many women come to this spa to rejuvenate and rest. Most of them come to lose weight. I had met her the day before at a previous class. She'd told me she was a runner and had never done yoga. 


"Why are you getting on the scale," I blurted, rolling out a yoga mat. "I mean, weight doesn't seem to be an issue for you."
"Oh, but I have fat thighs, fat hips, and a fat belly," she said, lifting her baggy shirt to show me.
"Oh my," I said, "that's seems a bit harsh."
"Well, I do Civil War re-enactments," she said,"An extra five pounds makes it impossible for me to get into my uniform."
"Oh," I said, pulling another mat off the shelf.
Another woman entered the room, sliding her sandals under the wooden bench. We smiled at each other.
"So, I'm always curious where people travel from to come here," I said to the woman in the baggy shirt.
"Gettysburg," she said, stepping off the scale and onto her mat.