Thursday, March 12, 2009
If A Girl Will Smoke . . .
DISCLAIMER - The following post contains adult language and subject matter. It works its way around to be sentimental and impactful but the first few paragraphs will have to be endured to get to the good stuff.
One of my very best DC friends (who shall remain nameless here because he is now married to a wonderful woman and has a beautiful daughter and I would assume (as a husband and dad to a little girl) that he is not nearly as proud of his once-profound observation as he was when he first shared it with me in 1998) once gave me an honest and "deep" observation about the fairer species.
"If a girl will smoke, she'll f&*$!" he mused.
I laughed. And laughed. And laughed. And then I immediately scanned the bar for ladies with cigarettes (this was a long, long time ago when people could actually smoke themselves to death while drinking and eating themselves to death in the dive bars we frequented in my early DC days). I saw a few smokers at the bar.
Yep. They looked like the type. I did nothing about it, of course, because my self esteem would not let me approach a woman . . . even a sure thing.
Instead I thought about every young (or older) woman I knew to that point in my life. There were high school friends who smoked. I had lots of female college friends that smoked. I had some DC friends that smoked. I had never been intimate with any of them (I saved my ultimate gift for my wife - not that any other woman wanted it) but I knew, on fairly sure authority, that all of them were in fact willing to, uh, you know, uh . . .
I was pretty sure my friend had a hilarious, disrespectful and, to a 20-something with the hormones of a 12 year old provocative piece of human understanding that he was sharing with me on this evening over $1 buds and bad nachos.
But his point was clearly flawed, right? Of COURSE he was wrong.
Grandmas. Some Grandmas smoke and they are surely chaste . . . but haven't always been.
What about . . . ? No. How about . . . ? Well, not them either. I am sure that . . . no they probably do. OH. GOT IT!
"What about nuns? I know nuns that smoke and they have given their lives to Jesus, his dad and their friendly ghost," I shouted.
X smiled and calmly responded (having clearly had his argument challenged in this nature before) "You wouldn't know if the nun would be 'down' or not until you tried and I'm assuming you've never tried."
An excellent point. I can proudly tell you that I've never thought about trying to sexual proposition a smoking nun in the past (and still have not, frankly). I dated a woman later that summer who was a smoker though . . . and I feared every puff she took in front of me.
What is the point of all of this?
Clearly there are women in the world (nuns and otherwise) that smoke and are not of loose moral character and clearly there are women in the world that respect their lungs more than their "head count". One has nothing to do with the other.
You can't judge a book cover.
You have to break an egg to make scrambled eggs.
You need to respect women.
Still wondering what the hell I'm talking about? Well. I'll tell you. Obesity. Yep. I'm talking about the obese and who they are and why they are obese.
I had an interesting conversation with a total stranger the other day that sort of fueled this realization. Stranger had no idea I weighed 500 pounds just two years ago. He would have been shocked to realize that I had, I would assume, based on the way he talked with me about the "fat %ss" that had just walked by us (he weighed about 20 pounds more than I do, I would assume). Stranger went on to talk about what restaurant the guy had probably come out of and what restaurant he was probably heading to and what snacks he had in his car and how hard it must be to walk at his weight and so on.
Just going OFF with the sizism and the nastiness and the hatred.
Stranger proposed the guy was probably a pedophile (I kid you not) and that he was probably unemployed and that he probably hated himself - with good reason (again, kid you not).
I got upset. Very upset. I asked stranger, as calmly as I could, why he would make ANY of the above assumptions about the guy that walked by us and why he was sharing ANY of those thoughts with me, a total stranger.
The guy looked at me - sort of miffed - and asked me why I was defending a guy "like him".
I wanted to argue with the guy and I wanted to tell him he bothered me and I wanted to point out that I was, in my mind, a 530 pound man scrapping for some self respect and acceptance from the world that sees a 530 pound man walking around and I wanted to call the guy stupid, childish and absurd.
Then I remembered that night, 11 years ago, that I perused the bar looking for a woman with a pack of cigarettes because, hey, after all, if a girl will smoke . . .