A Lesson in Story of the Crazy Ladies

The Boston Herald

So, we've been walking, walking, walking. Every day. Around in circles. We could be a children's book: "Two Crazy Ladies.”

See the crazy ladies. See the crazy ladies take off their comfy slippers and put down their hot cups of tea and leave their nice warm homes to go out into the frigid outdoors.

See the outdoors. White sky. Bare trees. Ice on the ground. 

Open the door and feel the wind and smell the air. It feels like a giant freezer and it smells like bus exhaust. Listen to the squawks of a few lonesome birds arguing about why they didn't fly south.

Now see what the crazy ladies have to wear to go outdoors. A red hat for one and a beige hat for the other to keep their heads warm.

And earmuffs to heat up their ears.

And two scarves each - one for the face and one for the neck.

And three shirts all buttoned up.

And one down jacket.

And lined mittens.

And windproof pants.

And all-purpose hiking boots.

And, if it's day, sunglasses, of course!

The crazy ladies look like very big, very old, little kids.

They are so padded that if they fell they wouldn't be able to get up. A crane would have to come and pull them to their feet.

They are so padded that if they fell they would bounce. All the way up to the tops of the trees.

Or they would roll. All the way home.

See the crazy ladies huff and puff as they walk and walk. They walk 3.4 miles every day. They are so crazy that they have measured this. They walk in ice and snow, through rain and sleet, in dark and light. The crazy ladies talk as they walk. They talk about how cold they are and how hungry they are and what they will eat the second they get home.

"The funniest thing," one of the ladies says to her husband one night. “You would think that with all this walking, Beth and I would be losing weight."

She says this as she is eating a plateful of ravioli, a piece of Italian bread and a glass of milk.

"I thought we were having chicken for dinner," the husband says. 

"We are," she replies. "This isn't dinner. It's just a snack."

"The funniest thing," she says to her husband a few days later as she is eating potato chips and clam dip, "Beth and I have actually gained weight walking.”

See the crazy ladies now. Their hats still fit.

And their scarves.

And their gloves.

And their sunglasses.

But the three shirts all buttoned up are very tight.

And the waterproof pants are very snug. 

"How can this be?" the crazy ladies wail. "We walk all the time. What do you think is going on?”

"Polar bears walk all the time, and look at them," the husband says as the crazy ladies squirt whipped cream into their hot chocolate.

"What does that mean?" they moan. "Do you think that walking is making us fat? Maybe it is. Maybe our bodies are manufacturing fat to protect us from the cold. Like penguins. And Eskimos. And polar bears!”

The crazy ladies talk on the phone.

"He may be right," one says. "Have you ever seen a skinny polar bear?”

"What are you eating?”

"Cashews. Why?”

"I can hear you chewing.”

"So what should we do? Do you think the cold is making us fat?”

"It makes sense. Our bodies are protecting us and we're getting thick around the middle.”

"Just like a polar bear?"

"Just like a polar bear.”

"Maybe we should stop walking."

"You think?”

"I don't know.” 

See the crazy ladies frown. Hear them ponder. Watch them swallow, one a bowlful of almonds, the other an Almond Joy. Hear the resignation in their voices.

"And to think," they both say, "we were doing so well."