Tuesday, July 29, 2003

Green Shirts Do Not Mean Go

I don't know if people just get confused by the whole dichotomy between green light = go and green anything else = not necessarily anything to do with go, but I've noticed that when I'm wearing a kelly green shirt, drivers are less likely to stop for me in a crosswalk. I happen to own three kelly green t-shirts now, all of which I wear on a regular basis, partly because I like the color and partly because they are cool shirts. And I've never been run over or had someone absolutely fail to stop in such a situation that I felt it was strongly related to my shirt color. It remains, however, that these things happen, and it makes me wonder.

Today, for instance, I was crossing Brooklyn at 47th (my favorite four-way stop ever, or not! but a necessary conduit to the rest of the world from where I live) and I was clearly crossing the street as a woman driving a newish Japanese sedan stopped at the line, then proceeded to take her turn and stop just before the other crosswalk (where I was) without any apparent regard for me or the man standing on the corner waiting to cross.

Trust me that I'm not the sort of asshole who takes advantage of the letter of the law stating the absolute right of way of a pedestrian and darts out in front of traffic. This was a busy four-way stop with lots of pedestrian traffic and clear crosswalks. I had waited for other cars to go through before I took my turn. I just don't like to be bumped up next to by a car.

In other small irritations... why is it that some people consider it complimentary to tell you that you're skinny?

Certain people or groups tell me that I am skinny when I see them for the first time in awhile. I don't mean people who know me well (i.e., Becky) and tell me I've lost weight in the course of conversation, but rather people I don't know well but are sort of family. I guess it's better they're telling me I'm skinny and not fat, but still. It doesn't sit right.

On Friday, when I arrived at the house, some of the Cambodian women saw me and gave me a quick once-over, brows furrowed. "Em! You so skinny now!" they told me. I said, "Uhh... I guess so..." wondering how they can say that when I wear a size 14 and they wear a 4. The word "skinny" itself makes me feel I must look emaciated. But these are all cultural differences I couldn't possibly explain to these women I could barely name, and it's not like I'd want to be their size, anyway. Just couldn't they tell me I look good instead? Why skinny?

My mom, of course, kicked me and said, "Say, 'thank you.'" So I did.

I'm sure they all think I'm very peculiar.

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