Does this make me look fat?
Possibly the most dangerous question known to mankind. The safest way to answer is probably to fake a coma until the need for an answer is over, and it's safe to resume your position on the couch to watch reruns of Seinfeld.
Now, you're probably not going to be asked this question by someone of the male persuasion. For some reason or another, men do not care if they look fat, they do not care if they are fat, and they especially do not care if you think they are fat. Unless they are gay, metro, manorexic or unique, they will never, ever utter the words, "Does this make me look..." You're probably more likely to have them ask if they can cook dinner for you, or do the laundry. Every now and then you'll see a guy on Oprah, crying and saying how he's so much more confident now that he's lost four-hundred pounds, but he's lying. He just wants a free car like the rest of us.
Most women, on the other hand, do care. They want to know if they look fat, what part of them looks fat, and why you don't love them anymore when you, with great courage and strength, tell the truth and say, "Yes, that makes you look fat, you cow." (And by courage and strength, I mean you're an idiot. Who would say a thing like that? Jerk.)
It's a timeless thing, really. Women's aspiration to remain thin waisted, big breasted, and greatly desired by all things living; big or small. (Preferably big, but that's not the point I'm trying to make today.) Throughout the years, women have tried every possible way of staying what society considers attractive. Eat less, exercise more has more often than not been the standard way to lose weight, or tone muscles, etc. But, honestly, who has time for that anymore? That's right, no one. We'd much rather wake up five minutes before work, eat cold pizza from two nights prior, down a coke and jump in the car, only to run through a fast "food" drive-thru a few hours later for lunch. We come home, throw a frozen dinner in the microwave and become the only vegetable that's been near your house in who knows how long.
Why did this happen? you ask. When did this downward spiral of supersized fries and extra mayo, hold the tomato begin? When Americans became lazy, that's when. When it became possible to lose weight by popping a pill every day. Anna Nicole Smith went from hideous, rich and huge to hideous, rich, less huge and drugged out. Who wouldn't want that? Pretty soon they're going to use weight loss formulas as seasoning for your Big Mac so you don't have to drag yourself off the couch to swallow your skinny pills. Won't that be a relief?
Now, you're probably not going to be asked this question by someone of the male persuasion. For some reason or another, men do not care if they look fat, they do not care if they are fat, and they especially do not care if you think they are fat. Unless they are gay, metro, manorexic or unique, they will never, ever utter the words, "Does this make me look..." You're probably more likely to have them ask if they can cook dinner for you, or do the laundry. Every now and then you'll see a guy on Oprah, crying and saying how he's so much more confident now that he's lost four-hundred pounds, but he's lying. He just wants a free car like the rest of us.
Most women, on the other hand, do care. They want to know if they look fat, what part of them looks fat, and why you don't love them anymore when you, with great courage and strength, tell the truth and say, "Yes, that makes you look fat, you cow." (And by courage and strength, I mean you're an idiot. Who would say a thing like that? Jerk.)
It's a timeless thing, really. Women's aspiration to remain thin waisted, big breasted, and greatly desired by all things living; big or small. (Preferably big, but that's not the point I'm trying to make today.) Throughout the years, women have tried every possible way of staying what society considers attractive. Eat less, exercise more has more often than not been the standard way to lose weight, or tone muscles, etc. But, honestly, who has time for that anymore? That's right, no one. We'd much rather wake up five minutes before work, eat cold pizza from two nights prior, down a coke and jump in the car, only to run through a fast "food" drive-thru a few hours later for lunch. We come home, throw a frozen dinner in the microwave and become the only vegetable that's been near your house in who knows how long.
Why did this happen? you ask. When did this downward spiral of supersized fries and extra mayo, hold the tomato begin? When Americans became lazy, that's when. When it became possible to lose weight by popping a pill every day. Anna Nicole Smith went from hideous, rich and huge to hideous, rich, less huge and drugged out. Who wouldn't want that? Pretty soon they're going to use weight loss formulas as seasoning for your Big Mac so you don't have to drag yourself off the couch to swallow your skinny pills. Won't that be a relief?
posted by L. E. Kelly at 2:19 PM
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