I had a thought provoking conversation with a male buddy of mine today. We usually talk once a month about life, the universe and everything under the sun. That’s what we basically do. Usually over a cup of coffee, rum n raisin ice-cream or chocolate cheese cake. We chat about work, and family, boyfriends, girlfriends,love, sex, movies, rock n roll, poetry, and the latest on celebrity gossip. We also bitch about the weather, car repairs and how large our work-stress monsters inside us have grown.
Speaking of which, we met up today as I had a particularly tough week at work, what with plausible deniability issues cropping at the office and people who should know better, pleading ignorance when they should be stepping up to the plate to stand by and defend their fellow colleagues.
My friend had also a rather hard day at work as well as business was slow and it was a rainy, muggy, moody day. With mud sloshing the pathways and rainwater puddling the five-foot ways, the foot traffic at his store had been slim to none when previously he would have been doing a roaring business.
It was nice to meet up and talk about our month. About where our lives were going. And about how we each had not met our lobsters yet. We had come pretty darn close to it, but so far, all lobster-like candidates turned out to be hollow desiccated pumpkins.
Somehow the conversation turned to hair. He’s a metrosexual-in-denial, and I’m obsessed about my hair. So you can imagine that the conversation got pretty heated. We talked about hair-cials (like a facial, but for the hair!) and the hair spa his girlfriend sent him to recently. He opined that it was all about managing one’s stress levels so that one does not age prematurely and look like a 90-year-old 60 or 70 years too soon.
Due to stress at work lately my long curly hair has been dropping and this was worrying me. Scratch that. The hair loss is freaking me out! Don’t want to get botak before my time izinit??
A workmate had told me to take folic acid and B Complex vitamins, as this would address the hair issues (apparently hair loss can be caused by a lack of B vitamins and sufficient folic acid) and that I would soon have lustrous thick hair, if only I took the aforementioned everyday.
I was seriously considering taking these vitamins when another buddy of mine told me that taking those vitamins would make me put on weight. This buddy was speaking from personal experience as it had happened to her. How now? I searched the Holy Internet Diaries of Medical Knowledge but could not find any information to confirm the above or to naysay.
So for the sake of argument, I asked Mr Handsome Man Friend which he preferred:
i. A fat girlfriend (with a pretty face on her) with lustrous beautiful hair
ii. Or a thin girlfriend (with a pretty face on her) with a botak head because she avoided taking the vitamins that would have saved her hair.
He picked No. ii!!!
His theory was that, the thin girl could be beautiful bald (think Sinead) and if necessary, could wear wigs (which apparently are the in-thing at the moment, but only if you're like 13-19!).
A fat girl would have issues and he would have to constantly plump up (no pun intended) her ego, soothe her insecurities, and always be on his toes around her as she would be constantly asking him if she looked fat in her jeans/dress/suit/whatever she was wearing and they would never be able to leave the house and she would always be on a diet or miserable about food or obsessing about food, or have six chins that would freak him out as he would not know which one to look at or kiss.
He also said that he was speaking from experience as he has had size-challenged girlfriends and everything was so tedious and tiring as said girlies often had issues about everything. Food. Clothes. Diet. Mirrors. Chairs. Crowds. People staring. People not staring. Her ass. Her ass in comparison to his. Her ass in comparison to other women’s. Her size. Her size in comparison to his. Her size in comparison to other women's. So he would pick the thin bald girl, as at least there would be less emotional baggage to deal with.
He then grumbled that more women should be like me. Cool. Lepak. And not give an ass-toss as to whether to eat or not eat that last serving of satay, that last square of melt-in-your-mouth chocolate. My goodness. Was that a compliment or a jibe? Should I poke Mr. Metrosexual in his bouffant hairdo? Should I slap him with my grilled snapper?
I didn't say a word as he seemed oblivious to the fact that I was fat. Am fat. Round. Rotund. Rubenesque. Kept silent as I don't want to be one of those women with the aforementioned hangups.
Is that how my friends see me during the times I do mope and groan?
Am I then the Fat girlfriend with emo’ baggage?
So now, here's the first of my resolutions for the New Year 2007:-
I shall, from this moment forth, no longer speak about my hang-ups or body issues with people. You never know what people might be thinking. On the outside, face all smiling, smiling and friendly-like. On the inside, gnashing their teeth and poking their eyes out with boredom and horror as they think of their escape from fatty hell.
Having said that, a friend also told me at work today, that I could be thin and healthy, if only I took care of myself and stopped eating so much.