“You have such beautiful skin.”

Why, because my skin is white?, I think.

I had just taken off my shirt in the changing room. My extreme farmers tan contrasted heavily with my otherwise near translucent whiteness.

“No, my skin is awful. I get burned. I can get skin cancer very easily”

“But it is such beautiful skin,” said the trainer at the gym again.

At least, I can say, after I put my shirt back on, that his line of questioning is not creepy like it could be. It’s just a statement of fact. Much better than my Indian stalker at the gym at U. Hyderabad two years ago, who insisted on visiting my hostel. I obliged, and when I told him I would see him later and that I was going to take a shower, to which he said “Oh, you have nice body.”

That was awkward, and also vaguely creepy.

This was different, like he was just informing me of something that might be important to know.