In the great social scramble for pole position one of the sharpest rapiers is the personal remark. There you are enjoying the evening when along comes this person whose name is on the tip of your tongue but you can’t retrieve it and he says, migoodness look at you….writes Bikram Vohra
What, what did you say?
I said, look at you, what have you done to yourself, you look truly haggard, not looking after yourself, bags under your eyes, so stressed out, tch tch.
Tch, tch yourself, mister, go away.
But they never go away, this lot, deriving dollops of pleasure in making you feel bad about yourself. Their main thrust comes about weight. And they have many ways of doing it.
Baby talk: Tum tum, huh, little paunchy raunchy commmmming out (oh, go jump in the lake and pull a wave over you).
Honesty disguised as concern: Put on some weight, yes, face has filled out, at least five kayjee (what are you, a portable weighing machine?).
In your face: good lord, what have you done to yourself, you have become fat. (Sorry, I am a blunt type, I call it as I see it, I can dish it out but I can’t take it… we all know one from this tribe).
The humorist: So, too much of the good life, ya, cut down on the goodies, mate, we aren’t getting any younger. (Speak for yourself and I am not your mate.)
Friendly advice (?): Have you seen a doc lately, you are really looking run down.
The professional mood-wreckers now begin to canvas support. Hey, was just telling Bik here how run down he is looking, isn’t he looking run down? From party guest to a medical specimen in one second. People are now checking you out. Hmmmm. All thoughtful and pondering as they assess your potential for being run down.
At which point the comments start clattering like hail on a tin roof.
You do look a bit pale. Sunken eyes. Not get enough exercise. Better take care of yourself. Now they get into a debate amongst themselves about your condition.
Women take it to another level. Hair, skin, complexion, eyes, all are fair game.
Along comes the party pundit. There is always a party pundit with his homespun philosophy and he says, ease up, my friend, life is for living, take time to smell the roses (who is this guy?) no point running pell mell through life if there is no repose, life is a soap bar, it rubs out into a sliver.
Take him away please before I smack him.
All you had planned was a pleasant couple of hours eating peanuts and munching kebabs not a dissertation on life and your pathetic role in it.
If someone has figured out why people do this do let me know. Meanwhile I am off to rescue my sunken eyes