I try hard not to hate anyone these days, although I still reserve a healthy portion of it for the likes of Margaret Thatcher, Rupert Murdoch, Kevin McKenzie and Nigel Farage, among others. One group of people I hate – and I know hate is a very strong word – is the small army of dickheads who feel it necessary to point out supposed physical defects. You know the type. “You’ve put on weight” as they prod the stomach area. Or “How long have you had that hairy mole on your face?” I wonder why they feel the need to do it?
I suspect I know why some people feel the need to demean others: it makes them feel better. They look admiringly at themselves, indeed in many instances sharing their self-love with an unsuspecting world on social networks. Because I dislike the unthinking, or worse still, conscious ‘shaming’ of those who do not fit the supposed body perfect by those who think they are indeed perfect, I don’t feel the need, either in person or on-line, to say, “You don’t look half as nice as you think you do.”
Yes, I do know that I lost some fitness and gained a little weight during my mental health meltdown years, things I am now trying hard to remedy, but it is not easy. One thing for sure is I do not need to be reminded about it just to make people feel better about themselves. They’re probably the same people who stare at disabled people for the exact same perverse reasons. No. You’re not as perfect as you think. None of us are.