Last week I was sitting outside of starbucks working on shit when a big ass black girl came up to me and asked me where I got my boots from. She and her friend seemed sweet, and they were both stylish and obese. After I told her I got the boots from a store in NYC, she said, “What girl, you used to live in New York? You don’t have no New Yorker accent though. You don’t sound like you from there..at. all.” I went on to explain that I was actually from Connecticut and only lived in the city for a short time period. She replied, “Well shoot girl. You don’t sound like you from there neither. You sound like you from here, girl. Right here in Texas. That’s where you sound like you from.” As she was saying this, she had a suspicious look on her face. I felt like she wanted me to admit to her that I was lying or something. Fucking psycho.
These ladies are the types who feel compelled to tell their life story to you and for you to tell yours while you are in line together at the grocery store. I don’t mind that much, I can talk a lot too. But it was a little excessive, and it was getting late and I wanted to get back to what I was doing. She just kept yapping no matter how many times I made it clear with body language that this conversation ended 5 minutes ago for me. The only way I know how to wrap things up politely when I encounter talkers like this is to not make eye contact and not volunteer any more information, and only answer questions with yes or no. I began staring at my computer screen more and more and glanced at her occasionally with a “seriously? seriously?” look. Still no sign of her shutting up. By this time, I heard about all of the places her and her friend have lived, all of their favorite clubs in said cities, the kind of guys they like to go after, how much jail time their fathers and father’s fathers have served, etc. After 25 minutes or so, it seemed as if they were beginning to wrap it up by saying words like, “well..” and “okay…”. The last segment of the harassment was them talking about Shreveport, LA, and what a great city it is, and how great their food and restaurants are. She asked me if I have ever been there, I said “no”, even though I had been there. There was no way I was going to tell her how I had been there and get stuck talking about all the landmarks and shit. So she said, “Well, you should definitely go there because it is so great, and it gots like lots of great foods. I’m talkin great red beans and rice. Great fried chicken. Great biscuits. Great collard greens. Great ribs and gumbo. It got all that girl, check it out.” I gave her a friendly nod and said, “sure I will check it out, nice talking to you”. She then asked “do you like that food?” I said, “sure, sounds delicious.”. Then she leaned over and peeked at my legs and stomach, smiled and said, “oh yeah, you will love that food, cuz you are thick. Okay, bye now, nice talking to you. Get back to your work.”
Really? You are really going to come over here bug the shit out of me for nearly 30 minutes, and be all obese and call me thick? I felt horrible. I am trying so hard to lose the baby weight. I know it will come off, I know these things take time. I know I look “good” considering how long ago I gave birth. I know it is so cliche to be a woman who is all worried about their weight. But do I really need to hear comments about my appearance by a complete stranger? I didn’t tell her I just had a baby, because mostly, I was in shock that she just said that and felt speechless. She obviously doesn’t know much about white girls. Black girls can say that kind of stuff and it is a compliment. Pretty much all white girls are obsessed with being skinny and have had an eating disorder at some point in their life. I was bulimic for 10 years because I’m white and I’m from Connecticut. So baby weight is like having a giant zit on your nose all of the time. You just want to hide, but you can’t. Everyone can see it. I run and do pilates 5 times a week, I eat things that I wish were tastier just so it will come off, but this is the price you pay for wanting kids, your body takes its damn time getting hot again. Just for the record everyone, it is a lot harder to get in shape after the second kid. I guess that is common sense, but I thought maybe I was the exception because I am athletic. Nope. My husband thinks I’m nuts for not being easier on myself, but I am retarded and he and fat black girls just need to respect that. He is not the one who has to look in the mirror and see a foreign body covered in so many stretch marks it looks like an impressionist painting staring back at him. Fucking chocolate chip cookies did me in this time. I seriously ate them every night in the last trimester.
I feel so bad for overweight people. Do they have to deal with this all of the time? People coming up to them just calling them names and offering them food? WTF?
The good thing about this is, it has given me more ammo and stamina to run faster and longer distances. I never want to be called “thick” again. I don’t care if Beyonce and JLo are thick. Thick looks bad on me. White people are either fat or skinny not thick. Fuck thick. Thick means fat. I need a shrink.