In a story reminiscent of the pain Brian Cormier detailed in his post on Jimmy Moore’s blog, Dianne Sylvan recounts a great moment of of inspired retort.
It’s not the first time people have made comments like that to me. They only do it when you’re alone, because if you’re with friends you’re upholding the Fat Girl Contract–you’re playing the part of asexual sidekick to whoever is the pretty girl. But if you’re by yourself, and gods forbid having a good time or–gasp!–eating something besides a salad with the dressing on the side, you’re fair game.
If you walk up to a black man and call him that dreaded “n word” or tell him he should be tap dancing and eating fried chicken, you’ll be thought of as a bigot, but if you insult someone’s appearance to their faces in public or tell a fat woman she should be on Atkins, it’s considered “helpful advice.” You don’t know this woman, why she’s fat, or anything about her life, but it’s okay to be cruel, because obviously she’s lazy and self-indulgent and you, as a skinny evangelist, have the right to say whatever you want if you think it’s for her own good. People don’t believe this kind of shit happens, but it happens every day.
I don’t want to spoil the punchline so read it in full: I nearly punched someone today.