Sometimes I wonder if my brother and I are even related. Even though we have the exact same complexion, identical toothy grins and the same dow eyes, I think the similarities stop right about there. We were watching American Idol last night, something we both do regularily (only he'd never admit it to anyone outside of our family), and started having discussion centered around Diana DeGarmo. More specifically how "big" she is.
BROTHER: Did you see how Ryan Seacrest looked at her chest when he commented on how much she's "grown"?
ME: Well, she is pretty chesty.
BROTHER: Well, she's big all over.
ME: Oh c'mon, I can't believe you consider her "big".
BROTHER: Compared to the average girl, she's big.
ME: She is the average girl!
BROTHER: Ok, let me put it this way: compared to the average attractive girl, she's big.
ME: Jesus Christ, Matthew! (insert scoffing here)
BROTHER: The attractive girl is small—the average girl is small. She has skinny thighs with no meat on her bones.
ME: You really believe this? Because I hate to break it to you—the average girl is not like that.
BROTHER: When I go to a club I only like the.....
ME: Do you realize how shallow and stupid this makes you sound?
BROTHER: Well, to the feminist over there that's going to shoot me down whenever I say anything...
ME: Seriously! What the hell is wrong with your head?!
A few weeks ago he was telling me about the girl he works with who was drinking hard liquor she had stashed in her locker during their shift. Now, my brother has just recently become a manager at his workplace (he's nineteen and works at a take-out pizza place) and is also going to business school at the university, so you'd think that he'd have some amount of work ethic. I asked him if he would do anything about it considering that what this girl was doing was completely against regulations. "Well, if she was ugly and a bitch, I'd probably fire her but she's attractive and nice so I'm going to let it slide," he told me. Seriously! What the fuck?!
And then we continued to argue for a good twenty minutes until I got completely frustrated with his testosterone levels and had to leave the room. Yet, the worst part is that I relayed this conversation to a guy a few days after it happened, asking if he would do the same thing. "As a manager, I'd fire her but as a young male, I probably wouldn't," he said.
Ugghh. The entire thing makes me frustrated and slightly apprehensive about the opposite sex (hah, as if I wasn't already) because even though those opinions were of a nineteen-year-old jerk-off, that does open the possibility that more guys feel that exact same way. There is a tiny part of me that is suddenly worried that I'm not thin enough to be considered attractive. Then again, the rest of me is a hell of a lot smarter than that.