Playing The Game

New house means new neighbors, and the first two appeared on our doorstep day before yesterday bearing gifts of yummy brownies. Both seemed quite nice, but it reminded me that new house, new town, also means it's time to choose. Do I play The Game, or not. Normally I eschew The Game, as I don't really give a crap whether I fit into other's ideas of right. In a town THIS small, however, I'm thinking it might be a wiser course of action to just play The Game. At least for a while.

The Game (which should be trademarked but am on the fiance's PC instead of my Mac and can't remember the key combo for that) is essentially created by, overseen, and enforced by women. It is basically a huge set of rules that dictate what you can wear, eat, say, and do, and the rules are subject to change at any given time and without any notice. Take for example the ultra low rise jeans. If you're 13 and a size 4, they're cute. If you're 19 and a size 4, you're a tramp if you wear them. If you're 40 and still a size 4 with a rockin body, you're just too old for it. Now on the surface you think, hey if you have the body for it, you can wear it no matter how old you are, right? Wrong. Truth is it has nothing to do with the clothing or woman wearing it, and everything to do with the rulemaker herself. The 13 year old poses no threat to the rulemaker. If her husband/boyfriend is staring at the 13 year old, he's just a pervert. The 19 year old is a HUGE threat. She's young, she's attractive, and if the husband/boyfriend looks at her no one will condemn him. So, the rulemaker has to step in and condemn the girl instead by calling her a tramp for wearing those pants. And the 40 year old? Well, her only crime is still having a body worth showing off, while the rule maker's own physique is showing the wear and tear of childbirth, lack of exercise, and way too many Ring Dings. Or is it Ho Hos? Anyway, no one will condemn the man for looking, so the rule maker condems the woman by saying she's too old to be wearing those jeans and at her age she should be in elastic waistbands and loose fitting slacks.

But what if the wearer is less attractive than the rulemaker? No matter, now the rule maker can bring in the "You're Too Ugly/Fat/Short/Tall For That" rule. This allows her and other women nearby to ridicule the wearer for daring to be seen in such attire, and by extention feel superior in the knowledge that they look better. One of my very few female friends is so bad about the "too fat for that" rule that sometimes I want to shake her. My own rule on this is if you don't like what you see then look somewhere else, but I understand that rule isn't in print yet.

Of course the rules of The Game go far beyond clothing. They cover the car you drive, the church you attend (or don't), your hairstyle, and even how much you eat. Think I'm exaggerating on that? I've known women to refuse to drive a luxury car because they're afraid of the talk that will spread about how they got the money to pay for it. Likewise have known a few who would drive nothing but, even if it meant not being able to afford food, so their "friends" would not dis them for driving a hoopty. If you're really stuck for entertainment, go watch a group of women eating out. First they all discuss their diets. Then they commiserate about how they can't seem to lose weight. Next is the competition. I only had a salad at lunch. Oh well I just had a yogurt. You ate the whole yogurt? No just half. Oh well I had 3 almonds and a green tea for lunch. I ate nothing at all. I'm on the cabbage soup diet (also known as the firehose shits diet). Then they order, and trust me, they pay attention to who orders what and how much of it they eat. This is why a lot of women get a salad when they go out to dinner, pick at it the entire time, then go home and raid the fridge when no one is looking.

Maybe my new neighbors aren't independant rulemakers of The Game. Maybe they just made up a big batch of brownies because they're nice people and wanted to welcome us to the neighborhood. Maybe they went home and said, they sure seem like nice people. I hope so.

Or maybe they're like every other female who has ever welcomed me or my family to a new neighborhood, more interested in sizing us up than befriending us. Maybe after they met us and returned home, they commented on how they shouldn't have brought brownies given how the poor new neighbor so clearly doesn't need them. It will just be so much temptation to her when she's trying to watch her weight. Maybe a nice plate of fruit would have been better.

Either way, I ate 3 of those bitches and they were GOOD.