The weather was remarkable today. The sun was out, buildings were beautiful, the sky was deep blue, the clouds were peaceful, and the breeze was cool and uplifting. There are 40 days left until the first day of spring comes. Today I've been giving thought to the way weight can weigh in on bias. Someone called my cat fat today. Last night, while walking down the street on the way to a restaurant, I passed a couple holding hands. Not the typical couple in our college town that walks hand in hand down the street after dark, but a couple who looked like they were in their mid to late 30s. The woman had fishnet stockings on, a tiara, and a very short fluffy skirt. Not too unusual, as people habitually seem to be dressed in costume late at night around here, and mostly, on women, it's the type of costume that includes five-inch heels and a skirt that barely covers the top of the legs. At any rate, my passing thought was that the woman wasn't as thin as most people might have been in an outfit so skimpy and pseudo-sexy, but it made me feel good about her that she wasn't shy about dressing up and looking the part of a French maid or Mardis gras attendee ... and in the next moment, after she passed by, a young, lazy, female voice called out from a passing Nissan Pathfinder, "Hey, you're too big to wear that dress." This woman in the costume was not overweight, but she wasn't slim and trim and stick-thin. After immediately looking down to see if what I was wearing could be mistaken as a dress (I do not think it could), I turned around and said "Awwww ... " out loud. The woman didn't seem to be phased or was paying attention, but the girl's voice from the car was unmistakably clear and loud. I spent dinner pondering about what would possess someone, especially a fellow female, supposedly a fellow nurturing, peacemaking female, to call out to someone and reduce themselves to one with a superiority complex who thinks it's funny to hurt people by being critical of someone's weight. Shallow, cruel, and arrogant. Was she young? I wondered. Was she from a small, rural area where everyone looks the same and dresses the same? Was she from a circle of people who habitually look down on people? About 10 minutes later, the couple came in to the same restaurant where I was eating. On my way out, I told her I thought she looked fabulous. I wondered if I could say the word "fabulous" and say it like I meant it. I could. She responded by thanking me. She had tattoos all the way down one arm. She had a beautiful face and looked tan and bronzy. She had an expression that showed that she didn't care about what the car caller said to her. She seemed above and beyond letting a cruel and cutting comment get to her. She told me she was going to an '80s party later that night. I was trying to convey to her that I spent time wondering what kind of person would say that to someone. In my haste to articulate it, I thought of some rural county, the first one that came to mind, and said to her, "I was thinking, where was she from? ____ County?" I immediately felt bad. I was just trying to get across, without overexplaining myself to a total stranger, that I just wondered if the insultress came from a rural area. Then, I suddenly realized with shame that I passed judgment on a certain group of people just because of where they happened to live or where they were from, and that my comment came out, possibly, almost as bad, or just as bad, as the comment that the girl made in the passing car. I really have nothing against people from rural counties. I just know that people who do live in rural counties, surrounded by hills, can be sheltered, not that they are. I spent a good bit of my childhood growing up on a farm in a rural part of my home county. I was sheltered. The first time I saw a woman in my small town, who looked flashy and like she wasn't from there, I made comments to my friend that the woman had a lot of makeup on and very large earrings. She was completely unlike anyone I'd ever seen in my town. That lady saw me talking about her and yelled at me when she got up to me. There was no way for her to know that I was even talking about her. I was about six or seven at the time. She called me a dog from Atlantic City. I had no idea what she meant. I had never heard anyone being called a dog before. I had never heard of Atlantic City. Someone told me later that the woman thought I was black (I had a dark tan at the time) and she was trying to insult my would-be race.
As for the French maid/Mardis gras/80s party lady last night, I thought, this is a night when two women showed their biases to her. Mine was made in an effort to comfort, though, and the other from the Nissan Pathfinder was made in an effort to condemn. I hoped that my intent to comfort counted for something. And I really, really, really hoped that neither of them had ties to _____ County. I walked away before I realized I would spend about a half hour feeling guilty that I might have accidentally made someone believe that I looked down on someone just because of where they are from. Is there any way she might have appreciated that?