One of my dearest friends is a vegetarian. We went out to an Italian resturant the other day. She asked the waiter if the tomato sauce was made with meat, since she was a vegetarian. Some asshole sitting in the next booth had the fucking nerve to turn around and interrupt, telling her that “it wasn’t healthy, being a vegetarian…” The prick also started to inform us that it wasn’t “natural” either. At that point I got in his face and started talking about certain acts that resulted in his birth that weren’t natural either, so he has no ground to comment. He said he was telling her to help her. The waiter ‘asked’ him to move to another table. (Great waiter, btw)
Another example:
I was at the supermarket buying some food supplies for an office party. Some asshole in line ahead of me looked at my shopping cart and said, “Y’know, you’d lose some of that weight if you’d choose better foods.” I didn’t hit him but only because there might have been a jury somewhere that would have convicted me. Maybe.
The sort of crap that Webmastr is spewing over here. Caring guy he is, he calls people “dim-rod”, “fat-ass” and “weak-willed”. He does this out of the goodness of his heart, in order that they can get jobs with assholes like him. (Because, y’know, fat people are gross and lazy and who wants to hire one of them?)
…th’ hell is going on with people? When did it become de riguer(sp) for strangers to intrude with “helpful advice” that’s often thinly-disguised insults (or in Webby’s case, not thinly disguised)?
To all those “caring” people, lemme tell ya something for your own good: It ain’t healthy anymore for you to butt your nose into my business. Next person who does is going to get, at minimum, an earful. Loudly. With colorful, helpful words of one syllable.
I was out to eat with a vegetarian the other night (not even a REAL vegetarian, since she sometimes “needs chicken”) and she felt it necessary to tell me HOW all of my food was created…HOW they slaughtered the cattle, HOW they caught the lobster or whatever.
then, to top it all off, she told me “You know, that french onion soup you’re eating? Beef broth has the same chemical content as urine!”
Now, I’m all for having a political or moral or ethical stance on something, but for chrissake, let me eat my meal in peace.
In the seventies there was a whole push toward “honesty” in relationships. People would tell other people the most hurtful things in the interest of “honesty.” Well, to be “honest,” sometimes it’s the BEST thing just to keep your fat trap SHUT or even LIE a little.
I often want to tell such people …I’ve got people who love me telling me to lose weight/stop drinking/get a job/get married/have kids/lift that box with my knees, not my back/stop eating animals/do more housework/stop farting/sing from my diaphragm/stop smoking/stop tailgating/get off the crack/wear skirts and makeup…and if I’m not listening to them, why the fuck do you think I’m going to listen to you? What are these morons trying to accomplish? Do they imagine it has somehow escaped my notice that I am a fat, single, poorly dressed loser with a bad back and sore throat? Even if all those things had escaped my notice, I ASSURE you they do not escape my mom’s notice.
The correct approach is to remain totally unmoved and chip in with even more gruesome and wildly improbable descriptions of the ante-mortem iniquities which might have been visited on the animals. Many (not all) people are vegetarians because they are squeamish about killing animals and this should serve to put them off.
You can make perfectly good French onion soup with onions, salt and water. It might be improved by the addition of some chicken stock, but beef broth is just a lazy way of getting the right colour: if you cook the onions for long enough, it should have the right colour anyway.
If it had “the same chemical content as urine” it would be urine. Since it isn’t, it doesn’t, and she’s talking bollocks.
When strangers do this to me (“Do you know all the chemicals that are in those Snackwells?”), I just look at them blankly and ask politely “Do I know you?” I don’t say this in freezing tones, but rather as if I assume we must have met before and I just don’t remember it. When they admit that we do not know each other, I just smile vaguely and go back to whatever I was doing (putting the Snackwells in my cart). If they insist on continuing to talk to me, I say very politely and apologetically, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t converse with people I don’t know, so if you’ll excuse me . . . .” They may think I’ve got a stick up my butt, but who cares? At least they’re not verbally pestering me anymore.
When people I know do this, I put my hands over my ears and sing LA LA LA LA LA!! They usually get the point (hopefully humorously made) and shut up about whatever it is.
Abso-fucking-lutely…I’m 42 years old. If I don’t know what’s good for me by now I’m never gonna learn. If I’m not fully aware of my faults, foibles and follys then I’m just a a complete idiot or a sociopathic bitch, neither of which can be cured. So leave me to eat my pork fat, smoke my ciggies, drink my Budweiser, beat my kids, cheat on my old man, exploit my elderly relatives, cuss, fart, and scratch my big white whale of a fanny in peace!
There’s an officemate of mine I never eat lunch with anymore because of things like this. She will tell you how many preservatives are in each forkful you consume. She refuses to eat artifical colorings or flavorings, which is fine, but makes faces and shudders whenever anyone else eats a so much as a Skittle.
I’ve told her I firmly believe that I am now immortal because, despite my vegetarianism, I am chock full of blessed preservatives. She, however, will be killed when she’s run over by a truck carrying vats of yellow #5.
An elderly lady made a comment to my 30’ish daughter in line at the grocery store: “Why are you so thin? Don’t you eat?” Tracy replied, “I have cancer.” The lady looked positively stricken, so Tracy relented and said she wasn’t sick, but she was tired of people making comments about her weight. Or lack thereof.
Maybe the lady will think twice next time.
Why would anyone think that a comment from a total stranger would be helpful?
I care enough about you to let you know that the correct spelling is “de rigueur.” But, to tell the truth, I had to look it up in the dictionary to be absolutely sure.
Fenris, Jodi, everybody, youse guys…I’m gonna have a most un-Vebbian moment of pure bonding, I can just feel it coming on…
The sublime Miss Manners demolished these aggressors but I can never remember what she said when I need it, and am too busily gaping like a beached carp to carry it off if I did. But the essence is–yeah, yeah–they aren’t caring or polite.
Damn, I hate nasty/nice attacks.
(After years of ruthless, “helpful” criticism my sis and I reunite in airports, fall into each other’s arms, cry, then say in unison: “You’ve gained weight!” “I hate your hair!” then laugh–and that’s family!)
I have a glare that can shatter tungsten steel but it’s useless when crass strangers stun me into disbelief.
Sorry, I added precisely nothing to this thread, but damned it isn’t comforting to know other people are flummoxed by “caring” aggressors.
Whenever someone I don’t know does this, I just tell them the worst thing they want to hear. Example:Yesterday, I’m buying some ice cream. I’m standing in line, and some woman behind me says,"You could lose wight if you ate healthier. I just said,“I’m dying in a month.” Shut her up.