I was watching a woman surf. She was on fire, showing all those blonde hunks dust.
When I saw her get out of the water, I admired her frame. So strong and healthy.
People started to gather around her and I went closer to see what the fuss was. Was it Angelina Jolie, I thought, as I edged closer.
She was about 75 years old. Yes, the hot surfer babe was 75 years old.
I could not stop talking about her. For days, I fantasised about where she lives, how she spends her days, what she eats, whether her sex life was hot. With a body like that, it would be the saddest thing if her husband was a fat, old, cynical bloke, I thought.
One morning, after my 5am gratitude meditation on the beach, I was enjoying a spot of people watching. The hotel staff were busy setting up for breakfast and I snuck in some coffee. I saw an old lady in rugged blue overalls, walking around the hotel, giving instructions to the staff in fluent Zulu – a language clearly not her own. Her blonde hair was nearly all grey, her blue eyes looked tired.
Again, I started to fantasise about where she lives, how often she eats stewed prunes and when she stopped having sex. I guessed that her false teeth were probably still good and wondered when she would finally throw in the towel and stop working. She was ancient.
Mid breakfast, I saw some action down on the beach again. I ran towards it, still thinking that it could well be Angelina Jolie, this time.
I got there just in time to see the old grey lady remove her rugged blue overalls and put on her superhero cape: a surf suit! Yes, the ancient janitor-like Zulu speaking blonde granny and the healthy, vibrant, energetic, hotttttt surfer girl were the very same person!
I had egg on my face. And it was not just from my half eaten eggs Benedict.
Aluta continua, as they say! The road to letting go of judgements is still a long(for me).
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