How Much Do You Weigh?
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You are not imagining things. I did just ask that question, that forbidden question: How much do you weigh? And I do not expect you to answer it. Feel free if so inclined, but no pressure. I am not going to answer my question either. Even though I have it in my head. Yes, I am one of those crazy souls who weighs herself every morning. (This problematic behavior did not start until after I became pregnant with Toddler, but that is fodder for its own post.)
So. How much do you weigh? This question is not alone. It has subversive sisters. Many of them…
How old are you?
How much money do you make?
How big is your home?
How much did your home cost?
How many people have you slept with? (a.k.a. With how many people have you slept?)
What was your SAT score?
What was your child’s ERB score?
What do these questions have in common other than being snapshots of rude? They are about numbers. They call for objective, measurable replies. And while so much of this fine world is swirly and subjective in nature, when it comes to objective things, to numbers – pounds on a scale, square feet in a home, points in a score, notches on a belt – we can actually compare. We can actually render objective judgment. And we do.
What else do the above questions (and so many others) have in common? They are about things about which we are all insecure. All of us. Feel free to spend your days polishing the resume, scrubbing that impeccable facade, but you, yes you, worry about your weight, your intelligence, your age, your income, your home, and the objective markers of your progeny. I am not adamant about too many things, but I am adamant about this.
But here is my curiosity du jour: are we obsessed with these numbers, these markers, these more tangible badges of health and wealth and success because it is in our nature to be deeply concerned with these things, or because society tells us to be, or because we are not supposed to talk about these things? The bottom line is that these things matter to us. They do. Some more than others. To this day, I will not reveal my LSAT score because I don’t think it was very good. To this day, I will not reveal my weight because I feel like it is not low enough. To this day, I will not talk details about money because this is how I was raised. But I think about these things. All the time.
And something tells me I am not alone. Something tells me that you think about these things, that some of these questions rattle around in your head too. But they are sequestered there, right? Because you are not allowed to ask them. But is this healthy? Is this healthy for us to spend so much time fixated on things we are implored not to discuss? I don’t know.
But imagine the alternative. Imagine a world where these questions were deemed appropriate. Where the barista asked how much your watch cost (wait, this has happened to me), where your new friend asked how much you pay in rent (wait, this has happened to me), where your colleague asked your jean size (lawyers don’t wear jeans). Imagine a world free of filters. This would be a nightmare, no? I think so. I wouldn’t want to hang out in this world.
But that leaves us with so many things we are not allowed to say, questions we are not allowed to utter (except among the closest of company and maybe not even then). And what do these unasked questions do to us? Where do they go? Do they pile up in our mind? Do they fade with time? By not asking these questions, these oft frivolous and superficial questions, do they shrink in importance? I don’t know.
But as long as we are a culture that is obsessed with numbers, these questions aren’t going anywhere. As long as we are a culture that puts height and weight of babies in swirly fonts on thick card stock at birth and splays the stock ticker at the bottom of every screen and broadcasts the weights of withering celebrities, these questions aren’t going anywhere. No. They are here to stay, variations on a theme, blooming in fertile and fearful minds, waiting to be released into a world where they are at once universal and unwelcome.
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What do you do when someone slips and asks you one of these taboo questions? Do you answer? Do you chide them for asking? Do you blush and change the subject? Do you judge this person for asking the question that you have had the sense not to articulate? Do you feel that it is ever appropriate to ask these questions?
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Apparently, I do write about weight and body from time to time. But note that I am not at all obsessed with these things:
Ha, love that you posted this on the day I decided I needed to get back on a diet!
I’m guilty of the rent one, but I always assumed that in Manhattan, the taboo had faded since everyone is always so obsessed with getting a good deal (though, obviously, it’s rude). As for the others, generally, if someone is impertinent enough to ask, I’ll answer honestly – strangely the one that gets me the most is the one I never would have expected: money.
I’m horrible about money and gravely embarrassed by how I have managed mine (or not managed, merely spent). But I think people ask to fight their own insecurities. By putting someone else on the spot, the focus can be shifted from one’s own shortcomings to the shortcomings of another i.e. I might have gained a few pounds, but I’ll bet I’m nowhere near as fat as this girl; let me find out the number so I can feel a little bit better.
I have found that outing myself on some of these makes me less insecure about them. Though frequently I’ll admit, I out myself after the situation improved.
Aidan,
Once again with your catchy title and interesting blog, I find myself forgetting why I was on the computer in the first place!
For a while I worked in Development and during my meetings one particular alumnus would ask me how much I weighed. I think he enjoyed the shock value of asking questions that were somewhat taboo. Keep in mind he asked me on multiple times how much I weighed. I would blush, laugh nervously and avoid the question. Then he would proceed to guess what I weighed, and luckily he always guessed a number that was too low. Then I would smile, and lie, and then him he guessed correctly
I think you’re right in that we focus on these types of stats because they are objective measurements and allow us to form judgments. Now, as for why we need to form these judgments, I think that depends on the person. To a certain extent I think that, as humans, we are hard wired to want to understand our circumstances. These types of numbers help us make sense of our surroundings and modify our behavior accordingly. However, as you pointed out, that need also frequently arises out of insecurity.
When I was in high school my family took a summer vacation to Europe. My mother, who struggles with constant judgment, found that being abroad was a huge relief because she couldn’t size anybody up. The status markers there are so different than they are at home that her yardstick was rendered invalid. She said after the fact that she was able – probably for the first time in her life – to “turn off” her judgment, and that it was incredibly freeing.
I’ve experienced the same inability to judge during international travel. And, much like my mother, I’ve found it to be a huge weight lifted. When I’m not worrying about making such evaluations I enjoy things much more.
I think numbers about ourselves make us uncomfortable because we don’t like the idea of looking at ourselves objectively — we know we’re so much more than that number, so we don’t like to limit ourselves to just that. For example even when we think about something like our salary, to us it’s still subjective, because we factor in that it means that we just got a raise, or we switched careers are are still working our way back up. To just be asked the number of what you make is far to stark a way for us to look at ourselves I think. Ditto with weight, age, rent, etc.
I stopped weighing myself because it’s way too easy to get wrapped up in numbers. I’m not particularly insecure about my weight, but in ranges up and down about 10 pounds most of the time. For some reason I liked when that number ended in 2, even though I didn’t necessarily look or feel better when it was 2 rather than 5 or 7. Yet by weighing myself I felt like it mattered, and I wanted to get back to that arbitrary number. It’s kind of bizarre when you think about how these things mess with us — so I’ve stopped checking, I feel fine the way I am.
As for if someone asked me? I’d probably just tell them. I think a little part of people when they ask these kinds of things just want to unnerve you, tap into your insecurity, even if it’s unconscious. Not playing into the anxiety, even if you’re faking it, ends up catching them off guard.
My first impression is COMPETITION. These numbers support competition. And we live in a competitive world. We must measure ourselves and our accomplishments or shortcomings up against eveyrone elses. We must compare and we must compete.
Or, we can try not to. And that is the more difficult road to take.
I think Yelena nailed it on this one. Knowing others’ objective stats helps us compare ourselves to them, hopefully in a favorable light.
And context plays a huge role. When I lived in Manhattan, the subjects of rent, square footage, and condo fees came up all the time and people were surprisingly forthcoming about them. I asked; I answered. Traveling in the Netherlands, I found the people I met to be very open about the same topics. Here in the Midwest, I can’t imagine talking about how much I paid for my house or how high my mortgage payment is.
But I think housing matters are different from weight, age, and test scores. How much you pay in rent doesn’t get at the core of who you are – and therefore doesn’t feel as personal and potentially painful – quite as much as an objective measure of your body or brain.
I don’t ask these questions. None of them. Never have. (And I was raised in the Northeast where this is much more common.)
I did ask, regularly, Where did you go to school? – a question that used to be revealing when I lived in certain regions, and is no longer the case where I live now.
I have asked height (even of those I’ve not met – because I have a theory that some people write “tall”), and I have also provided shoe size – but only when someone cares to purchase me outlandishly overpriced art objects known as designer shoes, preferably French.
With my sons, there have been questions (they asked me) about my IQ, and my SATs and board scores. I answer them, but it’s no one else’s business, except (blushingly), I will admit that my elder son and I were in a bit of competition when he took his French board. It is something I was always proud of – my one 800. He scored in the high 700s and was pissed but laughed, because his French is damn good, but he didn’t get that perfect score.
But that’s okay – he and his brother both tower over me, and no, I will not say how tall I am, and rarely, how old I am. As for my weight – I tell the truth, and my bra size, I only answer when asked en français. That one, I have gotten on the other side of the Atlantic!
I’m with Gale.
When I have lived in Europe none of these questions are asked. We simply experience each other, savoring the process. All these stats are so much a part of our (yes, competitive) American culture, and highlight our preoccupation with surface information that is only a glimpse or an assumption about the many truths of a person or a life.
i don’t do numbers… never have… never will. i don’t see numbers, recognize numbers. i see words and colors… patterns and splatters and shades.
numbers, stats, equations, decimals… that’s what i married my husband for… the yin to my yang.
but those who, like my husband, see numbers and such have my utmost respect and i am constantly amazed by them.
Very interesting.
I would answer any and all of the questions if the context were right.
If the context weren’t right I would follow up any “inappropriate” question with “Why do you ask?” and if there is a good reason for asking then I’d answer the question.
I agree that Americans seem to be very competitive in everything, even children. It’s helped me greatly to know that behind every right number is a story. Like I have a friend with perfect weight and body shape and hair but she has bulimia. Another friend drives a fancy car and wears the most stylish clothing with her nice jewelry and Rolex watch but her marriage fell apart in February. Yet another friend is overweight and has a child with a disabilty and she has the most beautiful spirit and attitude ever.
Someone else I know has all the right numbers and when you get to know her you realize she is the real thing.
I like the stories behind the numbers.
What do you do when someone slips and asks you one of these taboo questions? Do you answer? Do you chide them for asking? Do you blush and change the subject? Do you judge this person for asking the question that you have had the sense not to articulate? Do you feel that it is ever appropriate to ask these questions?
My reaction to the questions depends on who asked the question. I have a friend who has no problem asking these things. I know she is not judging me and, frankly, I’m not insecure about the answers. I don’t really care. I think there’s a privacy issue with some of them but for the most part, these things don’t make me feel insecure.
I assume the questions are meant to be posed in a social setting, not in one where, perhaps, a professional opinion is involved and this information is required.
To ask the questions is, in my opinion, a bit gauche, though. I may not care about the answers but I know I’m probably not entirely in the majority. Most people don’t love those questions and so the person asking should recognize that and probably not ask. But probably depends on who asked and who they asked. I’d probably think the asker a bit socially stupid.
What the heck is an ERB score?
-R.
I was raised to not ask those questions. My parents both came from ‘proper’ upbringings and I was forced at a young age to attend ‘etiquette class’, followed by ‘mid weekly formal dance’ in order to prepare myself for the inevitable Debutante Ball commitment. I didn’t want to do any of this, it was completely a family obligation that made me want to rebel and run away.
Maybe because of this I (openly admit) that I sometimes lose that filter I was taught to always maintain. Or maybe it’s because my best girlfriends have known me since I was 16. I barely remember my SAT score. But my friends and I openly discuss weight, rent, health insurance premiums, etc. When I say ‘friends’ I mean my two best girlfriends. And if we didn’t have that kind of honesty, I don’t know what I’d do.
Wow. You are so right. We are afraid of revealing these things about us…
unless we are proud of them.
Why again? Because we like to brag? Because we understand on some level that its all comparisons and competition and differences that make us who we are?
Or more like: who we THINK we are.
There are lots more things that we keep private too. I’m reminded of this after reading an article about Rihanna yesterday. She expressed our embarrassment at dealing with domestic violence. People don’t talk about it. Mostly because everyone out there is willing to throw an opinion or advice in your direction.
In that case, I can understand why. In many other cases, it all comes down to judgment.
And unfortunately, we’re all judgmental.
A number is a number…We are who we are…Very interesting thoughts here. I do believe that numbers can reveal good/bad things about us. But, in all honesty, do those numbers mean anything to anybody but ourselves!?