I quite vividly recall the first time I learned that telling a girl she looks tired is generally received poorly. It was senior year of high school. I got out of first period, went into the bathroom, and ran into Janice, looking into the mirror. Janice turns around to say hi.
You look tired, I said. There was no malicious intent; I was simply making an observation that might indicate sympathy for her exhaustion. Although Janice was someone I was mostly indifferent about, at times, I quietly looked down upon her for the way she so easily succumbed to mainstream culture. Maybe I was just jealous of her ability to shamelessly enjoy what's thrown her way.
Thanks, Eliza, she said, flatly.
Janice looked more mature than the other Asian girls at school, so I guess boys liked that. I hated that the boy I used to be interested in was getting attention from her, because I actually didn't think he deserved it. He was dorky, had zero sense of style, and was into indie music. He was stoic and wrote a really pathetic, meaningless message in my yearbook, which was a huge turn off.
She listened to the radio and teased her hair. She was popular and charmed teachers even though she wasn't the brightest. When she laughed, her mouth made the shape of a cute triangle. He didn't deserve her attention, even though she herself was a bit vapid.
Later in the year, at our friend's house, she took a picture with me and said, Eliza, you're so curvy. I was confused, naively, as my body is akin to a pencil, and I didn't worry too much about my weight at the time. Perhaps she was implying I was fat? Or, more likely in comparison to her, that I looked underdeveloped? She can make a snide comment like that because she was somewhat voluptuous, sticking her ass and tits out for the photo with that chinny smile of hers. I still have that photo of us, depicting an unavoidable juxtaposition, and laugh at her bitchiness whenever I come across it. She reminds me of why I hate LA.
