I don’t tell fat jokes, at least I don’t THINK I tell fat jokes.
In the spirit of full disclosure, I’m not so good at remembering things. One time someone passed around some quotes from an article about…well, of course I can’t remember, Iggy Pop maybe? Reinforced heel stocking? It’s anyone’s guess really, but I was all “yeah! This dude knows what he’s talking about!” and started feeling slightly better about The State of Music Criticism Today only to find out I’d actually written it about three years earlier. Ah, the NyQuil years. Good times.
Anyway, I guess my problems with fat jokes is that there aren’t really very many new or interesting takes. Which isn’t to say I wouldn’t make jokes out of camaraderie about our shared fat girl experience, but generally, they just leave me cold. It’s lazy humor.
Once upon a time, the second of my mother’s string of Ill-Advised Marriage Choices moo-ed at a large woman getting off an elevator. A grown man –obviously I hesitate to say adult– saw a fat woman and thought it would be the height of Baudelairian wit and satire to go “moo.”
Now, I do not say there isn’t a space in the Venn Diagram of Life where incisive social commentary and barnyard sounds overlap, but I think it’s safe to say that unless it’s 1945 and your name is George Orwell, odds are you do not fit in that category (also, if you actually ARE a barnyard animal who makes incisive social commentary, in which case a: cool, b: what on EARTH did you google to get to this site?)
I guess they just still seem offside to me. Maybe it would be one thing if anti-fat bias wasn’t still so strong and tacitly (or not so tacitly) accepted, but Lord knows I’m about as sensitive as Don Rickles’ therapist and even I know it’s going on.
So what about you, what’s your take on fat jokes?