Ritadiculous

If someone gets my name wrong I don’t correct them. I’ve never seen it done gracefully and I refuse to attempt to correct someone since doing so always results in hurt feelings.

Case in point, I go to a Pilates class a few mornings a week. Every person there is 30 to 40 years older than me. They are all friends because they work at a high school together. They think my name is Rita. I don’t know why. I’ve never told them my name because they never asked. The first day they called me Rita it took me forever to realize they were actually talking to me. In fact, I did one of those "look behind me to see who they are talking to" moves. They all thought I was comic gold. They said, “Oh, Rita, don’t try to avoid the question.”

These past few weeks have taught me that Rita is an amazing person. She’s exponentially more tolerant of adult conversations than Rachel. For instance, Rita always laughs when her Pilates teacher make the joke, “My doctor said I can’t do push-ups.” This is a joke because the instructor had knee replacement surgery not too long ago. Push-ups are one of the few exercises the instructor can actually do. Rita appreciates the illogical discrepancy Lisa presents. Please note, the instructor makes this joke every class. Class occurs 5 days a week. We as a class laugh every time with vigor. This joke NEVER loses its bite.

Today Rita nodded understandingly when someone said this in class:

“The dog had a 7 pound cyst. 7lbs! That’s like 10 lbs!!”

Rita agreed. 7 does equal 10.

Today was the most challenging class Rita faced because today the instructor called Rita by the wrong name accidentally. Today, she called Rita … RACHEL. I kid you not! I didn’t know what to do. I spent a good 4 seconds frozen in confusion. My stasis was broken when Bill, the retired accountant, active farter, said "geez Lisa her name is Rita, not Rachel." Lisa apologized to Rita. Rita said, "Oh don't worry about it. I somehow knew you were talking to me."