Life on Queen Street

Things That Made Me Cry Today:

· watching Jessye Norman dressed in le (?) drapeau tricolore singing La Marseillaise

· Land of Hope and Glory from the Last Night of the Proms album I bought from iTunes

· Jerusalem because it reminds me of my grandparents, Kit and Les, and it's just so beautiful and meant.

Things That Didn't Make Me Cry Today:

· the ass who I told to leave the driver alone on the streetcar this evening and, after I told him to take his own advice (he'd told me to be quiet) since I didn't want to listen to him, offered this riposte: "Well we have to listen to you eat, fatty."

Seriously?

Seriously?!

"Fatty" - that's the best your easily 30 pounds overweight, sweatpants and "Beerpal.com" t-shirt-wearing, platic bag and Two/Four-carting, 'I don't have the smarts to get directions before I leave but I will be an ass to the conductor because she doesn't know the way to buddy's house" ass could come up with: "fatty"?

My God.

I am stricken, stricken - I do not know how I shall ever manage to carry on, so mortally wounded as I am by your deadly wit! *swoons*

Or, y'know, not.

To paraphrase Churchill, tomorrow I'll be thinner but you'll still be a rude, mannerless jackass - only not as smart because your average jackass can, at least, find his way back to his stall at the end of the day.

Alas, since I'm posting about this, I can't claim to be completely unaffected after being insulted by such a specimen of Toronto manhood, but I'm kind of pleased with myself because my reaction was largely to be bemused: "we have to listen to you eat, fatty." Seriously? It was like I was suddenly transported back to grade 7/8 [aka junior high] - Oh, Noez, You Called Me Fat; I Must Go And Die of Shame Nowz - only completely different because, not being 14, I didn't quail and crumble inside, open up a psychic vein or anything else. Instead, it was like I showed up for a duel only to have the other guy pull a wiffle bat instead of a broadsword - you think you're going to hurt me with that? Seriously?

Dude, my dad's more verbally abusive saying goodnight after a family party (that was Thursday night, btw - and people wonder why I avoid men). Not to mention, people who wear droopy-ass track pants in public should not be casting no nasturtiums on the appearance of others.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I feel good and strong this evening, like I discovered that someone had filled in a chink in my armour while I wasn't looking. I was fat as a teenager and I'm fat as an adult (shocker) and it's something I struggle with, particularly in terms of self-confidence and self-esteem. I'd still rather have a body like Katee Sackhoff and I still have a lot of issues related to my appearance that leave me, at best, ambivalent about doing the work and committing to the healthier lifestyle that would bring me closer to that personal ideal. I'm not a happy fat person (I'm actually kind of a frustrated fat person since most of the things I want to do my weight makes more difficult) but I refuse to give in to the people and the prejudices that consider the breadth of my ass the most important signifier of my personal worth. And as long as losing weight seems to be giving into that segment of our culture, there's a very large part of my psyche standing there screaming "FUCK YOU, I'll lose weight when you stop being a vapid, fatuous, shallow fucktard" and giving moral heft to the part of me that would rather go home, take a bath and read a novel after a day at the office than hit the gym. But in spite of all that, I'm stronger and happier and more settled in my self and more confident today than I was before.

So, I guess maybe I'm a little grateful to Mr. Droopy-Drawers for showing me how far I've come because, yeah, I'm fat. But you're still an asshole.

On the whole, I think I'd rather be fat.