Fat.
Fat.
She’s the only sister that’s decent because she’s skinny.
The rest of them are so fat.
This about sums up the conversation between my Vietnamese aunties last night, at the wedding reception I crashed because they needed a ride and I love celebrating love. I had four cocktails under their disapproving gazes. I tell people the best thing about Vietnamese culture is the food, but then I realize sexism and internalized misogyny isn’t just a Vietnamese thing. I’m tired all over again.
Maybe I complain too much. Maybe it is easier, better, if I just laugh along, like the girls at my workplace when Tino makes fun of another girl’s weight. Why are the ugliest people always saying the meanest things? I’d like to live in a world where being a woman and being strong or smart or assertive is okay. We’re still just chipping away at the norms, begging for approval from people who will never want us to rise. Great.
My internship at the art gallery is officially over. I was getting emotional about it, but I stuffed my face with plenty of fancy food at the after party to be okay. The art world was fun. The new intern and I talked about Degas. She told me her favorite painting is The Star because “if you work hard enough, you get to be the star!” What a cute transition.
This post is just all over the place, thoughts that have been collecting in my head. I’m tired, but still trying. It’s September.
A STOR¥ BY ? 