Prologue: I look bad in hats. I have a small head, flat hair and even at my slimmest, very broad shoulders and when you add a hat to the mix, it is pretty ridiculous. This kind of information is what we writers refer to as foreshadowing....
So I have a few personality... let's call them quirks... that can
sometimes hinder success in my personal and professional life. I won't make a
list here, because that would be redundant as I fully intend on getting to them
each in their own time through regular blog posts.
The quirk I'm write about today is the fact that I hate being flirted
with/ getting hit-on. I've noticed that even when most people are flirted with/
hit-on, in the best of circumstances, even when they're in a happy
relationship, can be, to some degree, flattered. In the best of circumstances,
in a relationship or out of one, I greet flirtation with the aggression and hostility I think it deserves.
I don't think I'm some hot stuff, who couldn't be bothered with the plebs trying to grace themselves with my presence or anything. This isn't born of ego or entitlement or anything natural like that. More than anything, it makes me feel tricked. Please: allow me to explain.
I remember back when I was pregnant, I used to go down to a coffee shop a mile or so from my house that was just a block or two away from an expensive arts college in Minneapolis, and I would work on writing short stories. I'd get a black coffee, and after occasionally arguing with the cashier that it was actually none of their business if I consumed caffeine when I was pregnant and they're not my doctor, just the person who pours my coffee, I'd sit down and begin to write (or read, if I was not inspired).
On several occasions, a stranger would sit down near me, or across the lounge area from me and eventually ask me what I was reading or writing. I would answer politely and smile, make a little chit chat, but usually be pre-occupied by my task and go back to it. Then the stranger would continue to make small talk and, since I'm pretty slow on the uptake, I'd EVENTUALLY realize they weren't really huge fans of zombies, or of course care at all about what I was writing, but were actually hitting-on me.
The rage would bubble inside of me, as I processed what was going on. To this person, I wasn't reading a great book, I wasn't writing a masterpiece and was so interesting: I was someone they wanted to stick their penis into for a while. Compounded by the fact that I was hormonal and visibly pregnant, this bothered me to no end.
The above was just one of the examples I could list, (but is my most frequently mentioned because seriously, what the fuck. Please don't hit on the pregnant woman who is consumed by her work. SHE IS SOOOOO BUSY!) and shouldn't be read as the only times I got hit on.
The times I have consumed with rage/ frustration/ hostility with just being out in society and afraid I was going to be hit on was when I was A) Under-aged and living in a scary neighborhood where pimps would literally grab me while I was walking down the street and spin me around and try to bully me into being their girlfriend (e.g. working for them) to which I would respond with physical violence and foul language, earning me a reputation around the neighborhood as a crazy bitch that was not to be approached, with a lifestyle that I fortunately grew out of; and B) When I was living off of 1 meal a day of ramen noodles and butter and was the slimmest I had been since my pre-teen years, which I unfortunately grew out of by gaining pregnancy weight and then adding to that a mix of fad diets and untreated, lethargy-laced depression.
Even though I am now much heavier than I want to be (mostly for health and energy reasons, but also because my awesome husband Chris married a nice-looking person and wound up with more than he bargained for and I'd really like HIM to be attracted to me), I am still kind of comforted that I rarely am getting hit-on right now. Mix the aging with the weight gain, and I am far less appealing to the majority of the people who would be hitting on me otherwise. I like that I'm not staring at the ground when I walk because I'm afraid that if I make eye-contact with someone walking down the street, that they'll smarmy-smile at me and/or touch me and/or try to get me to go home with them.
My feelings about my weight gain are therefor quite ambivalent. I want to lose weight and be healthy and attractive to my husband, BUT I also like that the weight gain seems to have made me less appealing to everyone else, so I'm finding myself lacking vital motivation to lose weight.
Enter Chris - for (mostly) better or (sometimes) worse, Chris is an ULTRA logical and bluntly honest person, and he's awesome at coming up with helpful suggestions when I'm suffering from one of my illogical, existential crises. So when I was crying after a long discussion about my weight and fertility concerns and feelings of being unattractive, both good and bad, Chris had an epiphany: Buy an ugly hat that I can wear when I go out, that will look ridiculous and unflattering, and that will dissuade people from hitting on me, no matter how slim I may get. -- This is a brilliant idea for a lot of reasons, but I think mostly because it suits my crazy logic and ensures that Chris will get what he wants too. Win-win.
Which means I will most likely start shedding pounds, now that the road block of not wanting to be hit on has been removed, or at least pushed into the ditch, in the metaphor of my journey to weight loss being a road. It's a grey (terrible color on me) conductors cap that I got on super-sale at Target, that fits firmly above my ears, so it makes me pinhead look even narrower, with my ears sticking out underneath brim, and the bill sits low, right above my glasses, so it gives the illusion of my face being shorter than it is and I look stupid. So yeah. I am so excited to wear it, all the time. If anyone even reads this or cares, I'd be willing to post a pic upon request. :)
-=CaseyCannolis
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