Not so Silent Thoughts

 I have a theory that's been brewing for a while about the nature of people being social.  Silence is an uncomfortable state, to some it's considered 'anti-social.'  So rather than sit peacefully in a room and breathe what clean air we have left-the first sentence to come out of anyone's mouth when I'm around is, "You look great, you lost A LOT of weight, right?"
   NO.  I DIDN'T.
    I don't see her remark so much a compliment as I do her very defining admission of MY body type.  Before the silence, I was just an acquaintance.  Now I've become that 'massive' girl that lost all that weight.  I am the same 136lb woman that they saw running errands over the past several months, without a second to spare more than a wave or an apologetic smile.  The fear of calm in the conversation turned me into a recovered whale and her into a bitch.   
  With my face beet red from the dreaded exposure to 'stupid talk,' I begin to interrogate myself.  Where was the fat, do you now think I look flabby, and which gym and or trainer should I be going to?
   Should I have been wearing a bag over my head up till now?  If so, what kind-paper, plastic, burlap, or Prada?  Do I need to flex and squeeze my buttocks as I move so as not to cause a ripple effect with my sagging skin?
   Three days after this incident,  I went to visit my husband's grandmother.  She's in her 90's and feisty as every.  Granny has been smoking since she was 17 and likes to watch Wheel of Fortune with an Absolut on the rocks.  Again came that unwelcome lull in the conversation.
   I clear my throat and smile at Granny.
   "You look good.  Did you do something to your eyes?  Did you have any work done?"  She said in a puff of smoke.
   I wince as she says it.  There's that stab to my outer me once again.  Why can't the conversation end with, 'you look great-thanks for stopping by honey.'

   That would be too easy.

   An insult (to all the times she'd seen me in the past), so nicely spoken that the backhand I was just given (with the hand she wears her monstrous opal ring), looks like a tender caress on the cheek to other onlookers.
   A week later, no one can understand WHY it is that I won't stop over to see Granny.  So when I choose NOT to go back and visit my grand mother-in-law, or not to make small talk with a caddy group of acquaintances....I am not the one wearing the ruby slippers.

   I have turned into the one holding the broom.

  As the rest of my colleagues, extended friends, and in-laws put in their orders for tornadoes, personal trainers, and better social skills for me;  I'll be looking for The Wizard to turn on the G.P.S. to find the silent brain when the world is at a loss for words.