There was an amusing end to a dinner party last night, where I was told by one of the other guests, that I was the weirdest person they had ever met. She did soften the message by saying I was lovely, but she reiterated the fact that I was well weird.
She had earlier been giving me the benefit of her advice regarding relationships, albeit through her rather alcoholic induced sense of self confidence. I think some of the others were amused by the whole thing, and I was happy to let her continue to tell me I was too thin, given her inebriated state.
The evening ended pleasantly, with the usual cordial goodbyes, but on the way home I got to thinking about just how weird I really am.
Given that I turned up with my own food, my own drink and on my own, that set me apart from most of the others. I was the only Buddhist, the only vegan, the only one drinking fruit juice and water and one of only two who didn’t smoke, but does that make me weird?
Now eating meat, cheese or puddings that are full of fat, drinking wine, beer or spirits and smoking doesn’t make anyone a bad person, but is it really that wise, considering all the evidence of the harm to which they all contribute?
The changes I had made to my own life have resulted in me being as calm, as fit and healthy, as trim and as happy as I have ever been. I am well aware that that makes me different to many others, but if that’s how it must be, I am really pleased that I am weird.