Don’t Give a Damn.
Do you know why I love hanging out with cranky old people? I like them because they have mastered the fine art of Not Giving a Damn.
The sooner you can learn to Not Give a Damn the better.
We are constantly bombarded about how we’re supposed to look and act and be and think and live and blah de blah blah blah. Especially since we’re already at fault for being fat and have to make it up to society somehow.
If you don’t have a filter, a little bitchy Giminy Cricket inside your head that says “Hang on, I’m not going to do that.” then you’re sunk. You’re just going to be battered by the waves of pop culture and consumerism until you look like everybody else and have absolutely no personality and you STILL won’t be happy because:
You will never ever be “good enough” in the eyes of popular culture.
And that’s because people like to be right, and companies like to be rich. I’ve got my opinions and I share them (for a price.) Companies have their products, and they’ll sell them (for a price.) But no matter how much any of us insist your world won’t spin the way it ought unless you’ve done this or listened to that, you do not under any circumstances have to Give a Damn.
And I know what you’re thinking. “Yeah, but people already dislike me because I’m fat. Now they will hate me.”
No, they won’t. That’s the amazing thing. People will FLOCK to you, because if you Don’t Give a Damn –provided you’re still a decent human being and socially gracious (there are some people who Don’t Give a Damn but also are socially graceless: These people have no friends)– that signals power, and it’s in our gregarious nature to want to have the approval of powerful pack-members. Meanwhile, if you’re a groveling little thing that plays nicey-nice all the time, I have a theory that people will sense your weakness and insincerity and more often than not will look down on you. Which isn’t to say that you can NEVER give a damn — I bend over backwards for people I genuinely like to make happy, but it’s a choice, not a default position.
It’s difficult, especially since women are supposed to be Nice all the time, but Nice only has one place in my vocabulary, and that’s in Italy.* Be good, not nice. And if you’re not? I don’t give a damn.
Gin and Tonics,
*Before you pedants send me any more emails: this is a joke.