2007-01-29 - 4:44 p.m.
Observations on Being Thin
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Years ago, in high school, my friend Rita and I observed a curious trend. That is, that losing weight seems to increase the likelihood of people being mean to you for no good reason at all.
Years later, I had to wonder to what extent our terrible teenage attitudes had obscured what Rita and I observed.
Lately, I've been wondering if maybe we were right all along.
Cinching my belt up by an extra hole the other day led to me spending a little curiousity time with a tape measure which revealed that, interestingly, I'm now quite officially model-sized. (Editor's Note: Here, I would like it to be clear that I'm neither bragging, nor especially proud. When - one day - I say that I can speak Japanese, then I will be bragging and very, very proud, because I will have invested an awful lot of effort in that. I'm grateful for this fashion body, it works well, and it's nice to not have to dress strategically, but I've done absolutely nothing to deserve it*, and therein is the difference between being grateful and proud.)
Lately, it feels like I've been subjected to an unusual amount of other people's unreasonable behavior. I was originally inclined to attribute this to the time of year (January/February being the most appropriate time to be grouchy without being provoked) but, after a while, I began to think that maybe people were actually lashing out at me because I'm thin. Suspecting myself to be a skinny martyr made me so embarassed for my own retarded thought patterns that I performed the following brief and highly informal experiment in the hopes of discrediting or gathering evidence to support my theory, either of which would help me to feel less moronic.
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Outfit No. 1
-Oversized navy blue RCMP t-shirt, graciously donated to me by Kyle.
-Oversized white Dior cardigan that Xavier found for me at Value Village.
-Dark blue Lee-brand jeans, found, purchased, and tailored by myself.
Outfit No. 1 fits a little sloppily, but I like it. One of the reasons that I'm grateful to have this fashion body is that I can wear an ensemble such as this one and not look or feel like a complete slob. I do, however, look like a bit of a slob. I could easily be hiding a half-made baby under the RCMP shirt, which makes Outfit No. 1 well-suited to this experiment.
Things Said to me While Wearing Outfit No. 1
On the subject of breaking up with his long-time girlfriend, my friend Kantoku said that in the dictionary of his heart there is no regret, which was damn funny, but not at all relevant to my experiment. Nothing rude, objectionable, or otherwise uncalled-for was said to me while I was wearing Outfit No. 1
Outfit No. 2
-Simple, well-fitting long sleeved white shirt, purchased from the Quadra Street Salvation Army.
-A very small black cardigan I got from a garage sale (by which I mean, an apartment sale) inside Nottingham Court.
-Dark brown corduroy pants, graciously donated by my friend Nat's friend Christina, and tailored by myself.
-A Celine-brand scarf that Xavier bought for me at Value Village.
Outfit No. 2 shows very little skin. The purpose of my experiment was, after all, not to make me feel uncomfortable. I buttoned up the cardigan and neatly tied the scarf. The resulting silhouette was, in my mind, very fashionable indeed.
Things Said to me While Wearing Outfit No. 2
A frizzy-haired girl told me that she didn't believe that I've actually been studying, because my Japanese doesn't seem to be getting any better. (Editor's Note: I feel this way fairly often myself, but the only time it is OK for sometimes like this to be said is when it's said in an interior monologue occuring inside my head. This is the rudest effin' thing that anyone has said to me in a long time, and I will be holding a grudge appropriate to that.)
A different girl told me that my shoes are really dirty. (Editor's Note: It's true. My chucks are not clean. But this comment was too ridiculous to be taken seriously and my grduge for it lasted about an eighth of a second.)
On my way to the convenience store I ran into a group of men who I assume to have been from Misawa**. They asked me for directions to downtown. Then, one of them interupted me in the middle of giving directions to inform me that they were just returning from the smutty area of town and to ask me if I, personally, knew the area. (Editor's Note: Although I do indeed know where smut in Hachinohe is to be found, I'm in no way involved in it, which is what was clearly being implied.) I wrapped up my directions as quickly as possible, then wished that I'd given them wrong ones.
Conclusion: Holy shit! I hadn't anticipated being able to form my conclusion so confidently but, based upon the results of my brief and highly informal experiment, people really are likely to be mean to skinny girls.
Recommendations: I'm not going to suggest that should you be nice to skinny girls. Skinny girls often have terrible attitudes, and it's OK to be mean to them if they do. I am, however, recommending that the next time you meet a skinny bitch, you try to keep in mind that there may be a reason she is bitchy. As for me, although I do intend to nurse my grudge against the frizzy-haired girl far into the foreseeable future, having identified the potential for a vicious cycle to begin, I'm not going to allow my attitude to deteriorate much further than than.
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* And, here, though I'm hard-pressed to imagine anything tackier than appointing myself the Embassador of Thin, I would like to clear up a misconception that may or may not actually exist. That is, that the fashion body is a body-type like any other. I have some control over it, but not a whole lot. The difference between me eating way too much (age 22, during my second year at University) and not nearly enough (age 18 and very, very depressed) amounts to the difference between having to shrink my jeans in the dryer between each and every use (and probably needing a smaller size) and the same size jeans being perpetually snug (and probably needing larger ones). Also, when I was eating far too much, double chins that I hadn't intended to make sometimes appeared in pictures and I vaguely recall being amused by how difficult it was for me to make extra chins at all when I was 18, underfed, and miserable.
Furthermore, although I am not, and never have been, a model, nor do I have any model friends (and thus no reason to presume that I know what I'm talking about) I suspect that models eat too. Anyone who's let their hunger progress to the point of making them feel a little weak knows what it's like to feel woozy. Now imagine that feeling combined with hot overhead lights, camera flashes going off in all directions, contrictive clothing and very high heels and, possibly, jet lag and/or a hangover from the day before. If models did not eat, the runways of Paris and New York would be littered with their passed-out bodies. I'm not suggesting that models eat at the food court everyday, but I am suggesting that they're not passing out. MSN would've told me if that were happening.
** For those of you not already in the know, Misawa is the home of a large American army base. Because Hachinohe is only a half-hour drive away, army men turn up here fairly often, and they are very easy to spot as they all have the same haircut and are prone to swearing. A lot.
