Pants, pants, PANTS!

I was so happy when Bulgarian Ben moved out. I’m not sure if it was planned or if he was evicted. Bottom line, I don’t really care. I’m just glad he’s gone.

Bulgarian Ben was obsessed with fitness and weight loss. Not long after I moved in he told me that another neighbor was lazy because he uses a wheel chair. I tried to explain to Bulgarian Ben that our lazy neighbor was not lazy, he has muscular dystrophy. He’s been a wheel chair his entire life. Bulgarian Ben was irritated that muscular dystrophy neighbor didn’t want to become “strong like Ahnold” with his help. Bulgarian Ben didn’t know (or care) what muscular dystrophy was, to him wheel chairs = lazy. He went on to tell a story of a friend from Bulgaria….

My friend from Bulgaria, he could no walk. He used to walk the tight rope and he fell from 20 meters. 20 METERS! He could do nothing for years. No walking. No movement. He just lay there in bed. Lazy! Then, one day he decided enough. He looked down at his feet and say “Move fingers! MOVE!” (Bulgarian Ben called toes fingers.) So first he just start to move his fingers, little movement. Then he started to lift weights. Not a lot at first, just small weights. Then, he start calisthenics. And now, HE IS STRONG LIKE AHNOLD!

Soon after Bulgarian Ben started in with weight loss suggestions for me. Unsolicited weight loss suggestions. I admit I have more cushion for the pushin’ than in years past. But I NEVER asked Bulgarian Ben for his help and suggestions. I was irritated when they started coming.

The first came when I was walking past his apartment to my car one day:

Bulgarian Ben: Do you work out? (As he’s looking at my chest and stomach.)
Me: Excuse me?
Bulgarian Ben: Do you exercise? What do you do?
Me: I, uh, walk and go to the gym. (Totally confused at forward, RUDE nature of this conversation.)
Bulgarian Ben: No, that is no good. I will help you. (He is now GRUNTING as he stares openly at my chest and stomach. Dis-gust-ing.)
Me: No thank you, I’m fine.
Bulgarian Ben: No. I will help you. We will work out together and I will help you lose weight.
Me: Um, I have to go.

What the fuck dude?! Perhaps in Bulgaria it isn’t rude to walk up to a neighbor and tell them they’re fat. But here in the United States, it is! I never walked up to Bulgarian Ben and spouted off about his horrendous body hair, teeth and lack of self care. I could’ve started in about the ONE eyebrow he sports or the plethora of tooth decay. But I didn’t, because it is rude.

The weight loss suggestions continued until just before Bulgarian Ben moved. I came home one day to find Bulgarian Ben building a large contraption with scrap wood in his parking spot (which happened to be right next to my parking spot). I opted not to park next to him since he seemed to have enough trouble parking his car next to mine without dinging up my car doors. I could only imagine what would happen to my car with the use of power tools.

Bulgarian Ben was building a sit up machine. It had a seat (covered with a dirty fur rug) and rungs to put your feet in and support yourself while you do sit ups. Unfortunately he decided to keep the sit up machine in front of my car. The space in front of his own car was taken up with miscellaneous construction supplies (junk).

So one morning as I’m walking to my car Bulgarian Ben stops me and says:

Bulgarian Ben: Hello! I built this for you! (As he’s pointed at the sit up machine.)
Me: Excuse me?
Bulgarian Ben: It is a sit up machine. You do 3 repetitions, 3 times per week and you will lose at least 5 pounds. (He’s now ON the sit up machine holding a disc weight performing sit ups.)
Me: Did I ever say anything to you about wanting to lose weight?
Bulgarian Ben: Huh? (He is obviously confused.)
Me: I do not want to lose weight Ben. I do not want to use your sit up machine. I like myself the way I am.
Bulgarian Ben: Oh.

It was an uncomfortable conversation. No less uncomfortable than our conversations normally were, this time he was the uncomfortable one. Not long after he moved. THANK GOD I no longer have to walk past him attempting to avoid contact or inappropriate staring at my chest and stomach.