Women who fish annoy me. And when annoyed by these trawlers, I am typically inclined to deliberately avoid saying anything at all in response to the "hook" that is thrown out.
I used to work with someone who fished for sympathy. She'd come in to work and let out a huge sigh. HUGE, like the weight of the world rested on her petite little shoulders. Me and my linebacker shoulders would continue whatever it was I was doing, ignoring her. Sometimes I'd hear a tiny groan and witness a rubbing of the ankle, or stomach, or arm or whatever it was I was supposed to ask about that day. I never did. It might have been a yawn, a sigh, a forced cough or slight sneeze, all in hopes of getting a sympathetic ear to invade. That ear wasn't going to be mine.
Everyone knows someone who fishes; usually, it's a woman and she's looking for a compliment. It's never subtle, although the one uttering the words may think it is. Words rolling off their tongue, intending to sound casual and off the cuff. But uttering, "Ugh, these pants make me look so fat." can only mean one thing; they are looking for a particular response, and the only suitable one is something to the effect of, "No they don't! You look great. Seriously."
And what's with having to constantly be told that you don't look fat? If you can stand to lose a few pounds or sixty, you definitely know it, you don't have to ask. Look, I've been a big girl all my life. ALL of it. But I believe any family member, friend or boyfriend who knows me through and through, can honestly say I've never asked the question, "Do I look fat in this?"
Yet, I hear skinny girls asking this question all the time, as if they have to worry about any extra padding. Sometimes it's kinda fun to say, "Well, I wasn't going to say anything, but since you've brought it up, I don't think those camouflage cargo pants are really hiding anything." If you can keep a straight face after you say it, watching them squirm a bit is sort of delicious. And if you feel bad, you can always recant.
This weekend though, I was prancing around our hotel room in my new (and amazingly bargain priced) fuschia velour sweatpants and black, stretchy, spaghetti strapped tank. I was twirling in the mirror, checking myself out and grabbing at various fat rolls, squishing them into areas where I thought they may be a bit less noticeable.
Ed saw me and asked what I was doing. I explained that I was checking out my fat. He laughed, walked over, scooped me up in a big embrace and said, "Well, I wouldn't worry if I were you. Some women have fat in all the right places."
I do believe I got a great catch. No fishing involved.