In defense of slow walkers

I am a slow walker. And I do not apologize.

There are many more of us out there. But you probably sped right by us and didn’t notice.

Or… it’s the opposite:

We “got in your way,” and you certainly noticed us by letting out a disgruntled “Could you walk any slower?” Or if we’re in the crosswalk, a hand-planted-into-car-horn Hooooonk. You made your turn and hurled an expletive through your window.

Unfazed, the proud slow walker keeps walking. Maybe they let out a casual “Where’s the fire?”

Well there was that time an actual fire truck came barreling down the street, sirens blaring. In which case I hauled ass from mid-crosswalk.

Besides that, or unless I see a baby crowning in your car on the way to the delivery room, I shall take my own sweet time.

I used to be very self-conscious about my slow walking.

Especially after hearing people so irritated and inconvenienced. And I’ve had a heavier brick-like build since I was a kid, so there was that to be self-conscious about. (Albeit a brick with a bulging mid section and wherever thunder thighs would be located on a brick.)