I wrote a post this weekend which questioned certain commenters’ assertions regarding how â€œhot Desi girls seem to end up with White guysâ€. We discussed that misconception as well as…well, a few dozen other subjects, but thatâ€™s natural over the course of 1,349 comments. One sub-thread which I followed avidly involved I-bankers and their (for some) elusive prey: the skinny, hyper-maintained, hot brown girl with stick-straight hair.
Some of you compassionately responded to your banking brethren, when they plaintively admitted that they werenâ€™t sure where to locate their loinsâ€™ fondest desire; instructions, right down to locations, days of the week and yes, auspicious times of day (yo, are we brown or are we BROWN) were offered and happily accepted. Much like the original exchange which inspired my post on interracial dating, which is where this comedy of heir-ers was going down, what I noticed was that these werenâ€™t one-off sentiments. To me, that made them difficult to dismiss.
The one word which kept surfacing, repeatedly, insistently, was skinny.
Predictably, evolved mutineers were outraged and immediately broadcasted it; even more predictable than that, the obligatory, â€œI canâ€™t help it, itâ€™s just what ruins my boxersâ€- volley occurred, so that there was essentially a stalemate. Around skinny. While all of them pondered if it was okay to come out and say that â€œskinnyâ€ was a requirement, and whether such a requiring was nothing to be ashamed of, I was transfixed by something else which was related, but not discussed.
What did skinny mean in this context?
To some, Kate Moss defines skinny. To others, the woman who is pictured on our left qualifies.
I like to know exactly what Iâ€™m offended by, before I gift someone with a new orifice, so I couldnâ€™t get my outrage-on– not until this question was answered. Yes, yes…we should all eschew superficial everything and itâ€™s terrible that weâ€™re judging female books by their covers, but itâ€™s also a gross reality. And I wanted to know how realistic these I(yer) bankers were.
There was another snagâ€”we were discussing Manhattan.
Itâ€™s a rarified world and understandably, the benchmarks are different. Everything is relative (and apparently, if you are an Iyengar reading SM, YOU are all relatives…oy, how I wish that I could actually link to relevant comments from MY OWN POST, which would make my attempts at wit successful vs. inscrutable).
In most cities, D.C. included, my 450 sq ft studio is tiny. In Manhattan, my friend is thrilled to have that much space for her ONE-BEDROOM. In most cities, making six figures is awesome. In Manhattan, it barely affords the afore-mentioned shoe-box, rent-wise and thatâ€™s if you limit your methods for self-intoxicating to PBR (note: life is too short for PBR, my darlinks). Anyway, if everything is tougher, better, more competitive, more expensive and more EVERYTHING in Manhattan, then…do brown guys expect brown girls to be skinnier, too? And does skinny mean fit? Or just skinny?
My guy friends (the unManhattanites, if you will…Iâ€™m not counting the Murray Hill dwellers et al for the purposes of this fluffy post) would line up giddily for a shot at the gorgeous girl above. Would our I(yengar) bankers? I think we have a bit of a vested interest in all this; the majority of the Desi vomen whom I am privileged to know are curvaceous, if theyâ€™re out of their teens. For most men, thatâ€™s a good thing. My male buddies donâ€™t like straight linesâ€”on the roads theyâ€™re about to break laws on or…uh…you know.
Curves are good. Right? Left? Those are definitely curves, on the left.
So, as I said memorably (and almost 1,700 comments ago!), out with it then. Letâ€™s have the truth. What do you want? Is the woman Iâ€™ve wrapped this post around zaftig or is she just right? Err, left? You know what I mean. And this ainâ€™t no heteronormative joint. Iâ€™ll be the first to tell you that she could inspire me to discover a love that dare not speak its naam. What about you?
isin’t that a picture of you ANNA?? or may be your sister?
While it easily could be, because my sister and I both have huge, bubble-like Malayalee kundis which resemble two coconuts attached to our lower back, and yes, apparently we also both have “thunder-thighs” like our helpful model above, no, it’s neither me nor my little sister.
I look exactly like that in jeans.
I am dismayed that some of you think that her thighs are ugly, but to each their own; we are attracted to what we are attracted to and that’s that. I bring this up not to call you out (S, you know you and labbie singh are my peeps), but to speak to the women who are lurking, who have body image issues. Because believe me, they are here and they are reading this. They inspired this.
I have no problems in NYC or SF or DC…guess my hatred-since-infancy of LA has protected me from an eating disorder, since I am a size 8, not a size 4, and that is too big for La-La land.
I like my body. I like it so much, I don’t give a shit about telling you the truth– I am 5’6″ and I weigh a whopping 148 lbs. I’ve gained weight, since hurting my leg, because I no longer get to walk the three miles home from work. To go from walking more than 20 miles a week to not being mobile at all…well, it takes a toll. I’ve gained eight pounds, which I can’t be fucked to cry over, because I’m more upset over losing lean mass and the ability to walk comfortably, without pain or this huge, heavy, unwieldy cast on my leg.
To the young woman whose email to me on Facebook inspired this entire post:
Please stop calling yourself “fat” and “ugly”. You look exactly like this picture, I know, because I went through your albums and found one taken at a similar angle. You don’t have luck with desi guys in NYC because of timing, circumstance or that nakshatram with the tree or whatever– NOT BECAUSE YOU ARE OBESE. When you kept reading about how guys like Puli et al want “skinny” desi girls, in the mega-thread, they were talking about you, my darling girl.
I proved this. I proved my point.
The majority of men on this thread think that the woman pictured above isn’t just beautiful but hot, gorgeous, attractive, ideal.
Please eat your lunch today. And your dinner. And work-out, but do so because your heart and lungs and future grandchildren deserve to be taken care of– you’re too precious to starve, especially at your own hands.
To quote you, “Shocker. Indian girls have eating disorders, too.”
Well, they shouldn’t have to– no human should. Eat. Be healthy. Fall in love with yourself. Life is too short for bullshit, and that goes for all of you.
Thunder thighed-Anna, over and out.