From my desk at my job--I am the concierge at an upscale shopping center--I witness insane amounts of absurdity on a daily basis. Whether it be here by my desk, or outside the revolving doors directly in front of me...I see and hear it all.
Today's outrageousness came in the form of a skinny-beyond-all-reason blonde young woman jogging on Michigan Avenue. Anyone who knows Chicago knows that Michigan Avenue is generally crowded any time of day: the tourists like to start early, and the wealthy people who live in the neighborhood have nothing better to do than get a prompt daily start on spending their money. So, in a nutshell.....not the best place to go for a long, uninterrupted jog. After all, the Lake path is just two blocks away: a long empty stretch populated with joggers like herself and bikers looking for solitude.
But Blondie didn't want isolation. I mean, if she was on the quiet jogging path by the lake, who would be there to witness her so-small-it's-almost-imaginary jogging outfit? Who would admire her expertly applied make-up? Who would notice her perfectly styled hair? No one: the other joggers are too busy actually jogging.
So Blondie came downtown to jog in her idea of paradise: in her fantasy, she is jogging down Michigan Avenue on her rail-thin legs, her abs (and ribs) clearly visible as she passes awestruck bystanders who are literally rendered speechless by her platinum blonde beauty.
But, wait, what's this? As Blondie glides along, her fantasy is interrupted by a sloppy, un-make-upped, unstyled, untoned hippopotamus, who, to the normal, un-blonde eye, is just your average 140lb Chicago woman walking with her boyfriend. The hippopotamus has come out of a store and is---gasp---in Blondie's way! Blondie is forced to perform an awkward side-step to avoid coming in contact with the hippopotamus, which interrupts her daydream of supermodeldom, causing her to spiral back to Earth with the unpleasant reality that sorry, kid, no one really cares about your almost-invisible designer jogging clothes or your flawless make-up, and especially not about your protruding clavicles and ribs.
This undesired collision with the real world hit Blondie hard, and in response she threw her hands up and cried, "Fat whore!" to the 140lb obstruction before attempting to regain her composure and withdraw back into her delusions. But the hippopotamus wasn't havin' it.
"Bony bitch!" she laughed.
Blondie is no longer Blondie. She is Bony Bitch. Another blow to her emaciated imaginings.
Who knows what happened next. It occurred outside of the little frame of the glass doors in front of me. But it was hilarious. And ridiculous. And also kind of sad.
4 comments:
Hahahahaha brava Fat Whore.
My sentiments exactly lol
It's easy to hate the blonde chick, but in a devil's advocate defense of her feelings, she's obviously quite unhappy with herself and is desperately clinging at any reason she has to feel worth something in life. Jogging should be a means to achieve health, both physical and spiritual - not a method of punishing one's body for its tendency to need food. And it's always a warning sign when one feels the need to wear makeup on one's excersize outing. The blonde girl probably feels ugly no matter how thin she gets and how much makeup she puts on, and is secretly desperately jealous of the "fat whore" who is happy enough to exist peacefully within her body, not feeling the need to punish it for its indiscretions, who has a boyfriend who loves her regardless of her appearance, and who has the confidence not to let one cruel comment shatter her self esteem. Someone should reach out and help that blonde girl learn to love herself.
As much as I want to agree with you fully, I can only concur to an extent.
One can be unhappy, miserable, and drowning in self-hatred, but it doesn't justify or excuse lashing out at other people, especially if (as in this particular case) one is simply envious of someone else's courage or content.
I sympathize with the blonde chick (which is why I said it was all quite sad) but not too much. I think as sympathetic women we try to find a source of empathy for people (especially other women) like this, but sometimes it just comes down to a rich blonde girl with an attitude problem who enjoys being the center of attention. Here in my building I see a lot of girls just like her: pathetic, yes, but also tyrannic.
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