Dear Mark at Cardio Tennis,

I played it off and was gracious today about your mistaking me for the girl who fell last week and went to the hospital. It was the second time, after all. Lisa not only mistook me for her, but when she was corrected, she didn’t skip a beat to tell me about the woman’s unfortunate accident.

So, I was either not there or I was the woman who fell, huh?

I’m only slightly less miffed at Diane, the first person I met in the class when I started going over a month ago. She mistook me for Carol, who just started going. My husband tells me I should have said, “No, I’m the other black girl,” and left it at that.

But I know that Jean took the trouble to match my name to my face, as did Dana, Jill and Matt. So it is not me, it is you. I will speak of it no more, but I should have spoken of it today, to your face, rather than simmer in anger until now.

We are real people with individual names, and if you take the trouble to look into our faces, you might be able to tell the difference. Just like when I take the trouble to look at you, and I don’t get you mixed up with the other old guys in the class.

You’re the one with glasses, right?

Get a clue. Thank you. Good night.