Monday, September 22, 2008

Keeping it real




The other day, as I was sitting in front of the tv watching re-runs of Friends (dubbed over with the voices of crap French actors) and eating Nutella from the jar, I wondered aloud if there wasn't a way I could fake being thin. After all, we can fake big boobs, fake our hair colour, fake long lashes, even the colour of our lashes and eyebrows, the colour of our skin, we can fake almost everything, and yet, bar wearing those body sock things (that no one should be seen dead in, by the way) or paying lots of hard earned cash for liposuction, we haven't worked out how to fake being thin.

FP sat down on the sofa beside me and took the jar of Nutella from my hand.

"You know," he said. "The first night we spent together as a couple, do you remember it?"

I smiled at him. "Of course I do, baby." I grabbed for the Nutella jar but he pulled it from my reach. "How could I forget our first night together?" Again I made a grab for it, but missed.

"Before we went to sleep you took out the jelly from your bra." He continued.

"Chicken fillets," I corrected him, licking the last smears of Nutella from the spoon I still held in my hand.

"And then you took out your clip-on hair."

I nodded. "My hair extensions, yes."

"And then you took out your blue contact lenses and put them in the bin."

I smiled, the memories flooding back from that night. "Yes," I nodded. "And you kept saying you couldn't sleep because you felt like they were watching you."

"And then you took off your make up..." FP smiled, shaking his head. "And then you took off those spider things that go on your eyes."

"The fake eyelashes..." I was beginning to get disgruntled.

"And then - "

"Okay, okay I get the point!" I cried. "You were scared I was going to take off my mask to reveal a hideous monster. I faked it too much that night, I get it!"

He shook his head, smiled and put the jar of Nutella on the coffee table with a resounding clunk. With one finger he wiped chocolate remains from my lip.

"That wasn't what I was going to say..."

I raised my eyebrows at him.

"And then I saw the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, who had been hiding underneath all that fakey-ness."

My body melted into his arms like Nutella on my tongue. "I don't want you to be fakey," FP said, pulling back from me and tucking a stray hair behind my ear. "I love the natural you. I love your real eyes and your real hair and your real eyelashes and your real boobs and your real everything. I don't want Barbie, I never did."

"You love the natural me?" I asked, to hear it once again.

He nodded, that cheeky, lop-sided grin of his spread across his face.

"Even my natural fat?"

"Especially your natural fat." His face serious.

But even after being told he loved my fat, I didn't reach for the Nutella. Instead, I covered him in kisses and worked off the calories I'd just consumed.

7 comments:

T.D. Newton said...

Yeah, I think this gets a lot more attention from girls than it does from guys. Take an example from us; we know we will get dates even if we don't try too hard to have 6-pack abs and baby-butt skin. Guys are afraid of being pretty, girls are afraid of not being pretty enough.

I will admit that I like looking at the "pretty" and "thin" girls in the magazines and on tv, but that relegates them to something entirely different than my wife. Some women don't like it, they call it being treated as "objects," but I think of it more like treating them as art. And, like art, these girls are painted and two-dimensional; real men in real life prefer our women to have that third dimension (which is personality, not girth).

This is why no girls fantasize about eating Nutella on the couch with Michael Phelps and no men fantasize about having intelligent conversation with Kim Kardashian. They are merely artwork, from afar, and it's the complicated intimacy of our lives mixing with our partner's that we really want.

I remember when Nick Lachey divorced Jessica Simpson a lot of people cursed him and said he was an idiot for breaking up with such a hot girl. If being a "hot girl" was all it took to get a husband, and men only wanted "hot girls," the Earth wouldn't have 6 billion people on it.

And that sounds a lot like I'm saying we're "settling" for something less than artwork - what it really means is that the girls we choose are more valuable to us than all of that. And "you" means "all of you," as FP put it so well.

Micah D.L. said...

you had me at nutella.
oh my god, i freaking love that stuff!

todd loves my "natural fat" as well. doesn't make me want to lose it less, but it makes it easier to get through the non-gym days, ya know?

and i would totally eat nutella with michael phelps...no, OFF michael phelps. wait.
what??

just kidding :o)

Zhu said...

I wish I could say something witty, or at least meaningful, but all I can think of right now is...

NUTELLA!!!

Oh yeah. Prince knows what to say. Bugger. French men always know what to say and when to say it.

Kimberly said...

Referring to your previous post, if you publish it, I will buy it. I love your writing, your sense of humor and your outlook on life.

pierre l said...

This was a great post, and it's so lovely to see you both happy.
Also, I agree with Kimberly: when you publish something, I will certainly buy it.

beaverboosh said...

Lovely post miss nutella!

Princesse Ecossaise said...

You know, TD, sometimes I think that a lot of the effort that us girls do to look good is for other girls. Not in a lezzer way, that's not what I mean But girls seem to want other girls approval. It's the fact that the majority of girls compare ourselves with others and want to look better than all the other girls, or at least, just as good. The fact is, it doesn't matter how many times men tell us that they prefer a bit of meat on a girl, we still want to look like a bag of bones. It's not for the men - not always - a lot of the time, it's for the approval of other women. Strange, isn't it?

micahwell, yes, mister Phelps is rather yummy isn't he? But I think I would feel like Flabby McFlabby next to him, what with all the muscle-age he's got going on there! I have no muscle-age. I'm soft. Like a cushion.

zhu sorry, did I set off a craving for the chocolate heaven that is known as Nutella? Dsl!

Kimberly wow. That is SUCH a nice thing to say. I think that that comment is one of the best comments I have ever had! It's amazing and strange to think that real people (who are not my mum and dad) would actually pay money to read what I write. Thank you, you made my day!

And you too, Pierre, Thank you!

Beaverboosh What an ace screen name. Beaverboosh. I like it.