“Hide and go fuck yourself” … a truly great game for interlopers.
I’ll apparently be the first here to admit <gasp> that I sometimes add trivia to the conversation WRT what someone is doing. Friends and family only, though, certainly not to a stranger and never regarding what would or wouldn’t help someone be thinner (I have no delusions of being a nutritionist). Although, I think the stuff I say is more along the lines of mundane information than well-meaning advice. Is it my fault have a wealth of useless information? (I try not to abuse it) (didn’t know about the french onion soup either, and that’s my favorite)
But what about the sneaky buggers who slip the zingers into an innocent conversation? You know, the ones who leave you cursing under your breath, but you can’t put your finger on why. And the people who do this are so good at it. I can return just about any serve someone cares to hit at me, but the sneaky ones get me every time.
Applause, Fenris. (And a big raspberry to that fuckjob webmastr. I’m ashamed I posted in his “facials” thread.)
<mouth hangs agape>
<scribbles furiously in notebook so as not to forget this incredibly scathing response>
Okay, folks, confession time. I used to occasionally do the thing we’re all railing against. I’d never be so callous as to comment on someone’s weight; instead, I’d do the faintly condescending “I don’t smoke” when someone asked me if I had a cigarette, or even a lighter. You know, the patronizing tone that says, “Not only do I not have what you’re asking for, I’m a superior human because I don’t engage in that destructive behavior.”
Then, one day a few years ago, I was asked this question, and after I gave the standard response, I actually thought about it for a while. I considered what it was I was trying to accomplish, and whether or not I had done so. Although I superficially rationalized the behavior by telling myself I was hinting to the other person that they’d be better off not smoking (which is true), what I was really doing was assuaging my various and sundry insecurities by finding superiority regarding a personal habit.
Then I thought about whether or not even the superficially rationalized objective had been achieved. Did my little hints cause people to re-evaluate their practices? Did people take my meaning, then go home and flush their Marlboros? No, I’m sure that people with whom I shared this snide little comment actually went away thinking, “What an asshole.”
And they’re right: I was being an asshole about it. Yes, smoking is an unhealthful habit. Yes, it’s expensive. Yes, economically, it sucks up a lot of government cash in the form of subsidies, both directly to the tobacco industry as well as to hospitals and the like. Yes, I support changing Hollywood practices so Julia and Brad and whoever aren’t smoking in every movie just because they need a prop to gesture with, because their celebrity status causes many imitative kids to start smoking.
But you know what? One on one, I don’t have the right to make that judgement, and denigrate someone for that choice. I may have the best intentions in the world, but rationally I know my effort has an opposite effect: It makes me look like an asshole. Hell, I didn’t just look like an asshole, I was being an asshole.
So I stopped. Cold turkey, in fact, to be metaphorically ironic. And I’m far, far happier for it, as are those around me.
Maybe introspection and empathy should be part of our grade-school curriculum…