Walking the gauntlet
It isn’t often that I feel pretty. I wish I could explain why this is so, but that would entail volumes upon volumes of writing… and probably some major therapy. Feeling “pretty” is generally a fleeting thing for me, a moment that passes after seeing myself in a store window. I analyze every flaw: my breasts are too big for my frame, my face is round, my butt and thighs are chunky. It doesn’t seem to matter what the tag on my clothes says, it doesn’t matter what the number on the scale says.
But some days the planets shift. Some days I put on an outfit that makes me feel like a million bucks, my hair does what I want it to do, and my skin behaves. Today was one of those days.
Until.
I headed to the farmer’s market at lunch, requiring me to pass the San Francisco Public Library. The library is the gathering place of packs of men. And as I walked by, it happened:
Hey mama! Mmm-mmm, that’s a nice shape. I’d like to get my hands on that. You married, baby? I’m just trying to give you a compliment! Can’t you take a compliment? Damn, girl, that is one gorgeous ass.
This is the reason that I wore men’s XXL t-shirts for my entire adolescence. This is the reason that I have covered my body in unattractive apparel over the years. This is the reason that I avoid clubs, abhor gyms. Over the years I have been grabbed, groped, and verbally accosted more than I care to admit. And I have heard from my male friends that I should feel happy that men notice. But I’m not happy. I’m not flattered. I feel mortified, exposed. It’s embarrassing.
It isn’t that I have a great body. For my size, my body looks… heavy. I’ve never felt comfortable in my physical skin, despite the fact that I’m inherently comfortable with myself in most other ways. It’s more that my body is like an exaggeration, a caricature of what it should be. And it makes people… it makes men… react.
I know this happens to all of us, but that doesn’t make me like it. That man (those men) ruined my day today. After that, I wanted to put on a sweater and fleece sweatpants, despite the fact that it was approximately one million degrees in my office.
If you want to make me feel a little better, do me a favor: in the comments, leave me a “snappy comeback.” It might help to start collecting them.
Filed under: People suck
I wish I had one for you. The words “the gauntlet” make me think of my high school. Because there was definitely a gauntlet there and if you were female, you never walked it alone. If you didn’t have someone to join you on the journey, then it was just better to be late to class. Because it wasn’t just words. I remember once walking through with a friend and her asking me, “Why do they have to touch my hair?” And so I learned to be silent while cursing in my mind. But some days I come back with stuff like, “Any man who even thinks he can touch this has got to have better things to do than hanging out on the library steps all day long.”
Oh dear. We’re having one of those kinds of days aren’t we? (I don’t mean that condescendingly- I mean cuz we both posted about body image stuff.) I have never gotten why men think this will make us want to respond to them. WTH?
I’ve seen women go up to men and say, “Do you think you are complimenting me? How would you feel if someone said such a thing to your sister or mother?” It sometimes work but you have to be willing to have the conversation. I don’t recommend it all the time.
I’m sorry you internalized their comments and even sorrier that you don’t see how beautiful you are.
First, you shouldn’t let others make you feel as if you should cover your body. But you know that already.
Depending on how sarcastic you want to be you could say something like “only men who can’t get laid talk to women like that.” or “next time I see you mother I’ll talk to her the same way you are.” Of course a good “eff you” works. But all these comments may not be the best response.
In the book _Sometimes Rhythm, Sometimes Blues_, there’s an essay about this very “phenomena” and how the essayist deals with it. You may want to check it out.
I think ignoring it is the best you can do.
Sorry; I don’t have a comeback for you. I do think, though, that you should try (hard as it may be) to realize that while they ARE obnoxious, they also were probably sincere. You were working it, and while it may feel offensive to be catcalled from afar, it’s better just to say to yourself, “Damn, I DO look good!” than to feel self conscious about being noticed.
Have I just set feminism back 40 years? I hope not!
What about a nice hard slap to the face? That always seems to work in movies.
I’m sorry you hate the catcalls, most people do, but I think Stefanie’s right. You can’t help looking fabulous.
I am the WORST at comebacks, but I know exactly how you feel. Um, exACTly. I covered my body in XXL’s until about 1996. But I agree with Stefanie above - work what you’ve got! Own it!
Walk with your head held high and ignore the cretins. They would probably drop dead if you approached even one of them as if to take him up on his oh-so-kind offer. Men can be really dumb. And mean. As if you needed another reason to be grateful for the HW….
I can never do the snappy comeback in time. Usually something like, “I don’t date cavemen” would work, but it tends to only egg them on more.
Oh god…I know the feeling!
Here in my place…men usually just whistles…they rarely make comments audible enough…so every they whistle…I go near them at stare at them…really! And they always look embarrass…give them that look that can kill…or better yet…pretend as if you did not see them…indifference is a good poison.
Thanks for visiting me!
Oh boy… sigh. I grew up with this on an almost daily basis. And hated it every.single.time. I never knew what to say. I always just ignored them. Or sometimes I’d think of a comeback but two minutes too late. A lot of times they didn’t say anything, though. They’d just stare really hard. Or whistle. Sometimes I’d glare at them.
Maybe a comeback to make them feel ashamed (if that’s possible!) like, “Compliment? Hmph! That’s what you say to cheap hookers, not to ladies.”
I don’t have a snappy comeback for you, sadly. I agree with you on all of the above, but I’ve never found anything to say to those jackasses that make them shut up, or make me feel better. You’ve just gotta let it roll off your back (it’s hard, I know), and know that you are better than them, at the very least when it comes to respecting other people.
There’s a great scene in Sex and the City (no idea which episode, or even which of the girls it was) where one of them is getting harassed (and yes, it is) by some guy on the street, and they totally just turn on him and give it right back. Shuts him up good. If you’ve got the balls, you might try that, though I can see that it could also make things worse.
Overall, ignoring them is probably your best bet. And if you can, don’t let them get to you.
You kiss your mother with that mouth?
Humph - you are ADORABLE and I wish you felt that way all the time! I’ll think of a snappy comeback for ya . . . just give me . . . a few hours.
I hate guys who do that. They are such losers.
I don’t have a comeback for you, but then again, they probably wouldn’t listen to one anyway. Just ignore them and remember you are funny and adorable!
I hate that feeling. I walk with a slight limp due to surgeries that I have had and sometimes when people comment on it, it makes me want to curl up in the fetal position and cry. However, a few years ago I stumbled upon the most inspiring quote by Eleanor Roosevelt- “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” I try to use this as my mantra when faced with situations like that, to remind me to be strong and proud. I know it’s not a panacea, but it sometimes helps you keep your head held high.
Flip ‘em off! It’s simple and effective and you can keep walking as you do it.
I did read “fleece underpants” in that sentence, though. Which sounds sort of cozy and … sweaty.