Recently, I\u2019ve been thinking back to an encounter I had at an Oktoberfest last year. Someone walked up to me and asked if I was on a show with beauties and \u201csmart guys.\u201d Very smooth\u2026 But she was merely a scout, chosen in large part because of the large rock on her finger that showed both that she was married and that you wouldn\u2019t want to get in the way of her left cross.<\/p>\n
After establishing my identity as a cast member on Beauty and the Geek, she walked back to her group of friends, at which point one of them came running out and yelled, \u201cYou were my favorite!\u201d She then leapt into my arms and gave me a huge hug which would have been much less awkward if my girlfriend hadn\u2019t been standing five feet away when it happened.<\/p>\n
We talked for a while and she told me that she used to be a size 1, but\u2026 well, she wasn\u2019t big,<\/i> but she wasn\u2019t a size 1 anymore. I don\u2019t remember her story—it\u2019s been almost a year since this happened—but when explaining the situation, she wasn\u2019t concerned about having lost her petite figure: \u201cI just don\u2019t give a shit.\u201d<\/p>\n
[As a side note, I want to point out that this girl wasn\u2019t unattractive. She was pretty cute, but asking for someone\u2019s phone number when your girlfriend is within punching distance\u2026 that\u2019s a recipe for disaster. Truth is, I like when a girl has nice curves. Being able to see her ribcage\u2026 major turn-off. But asking someone to take off her shirt so you can look at her ribcage when your girlfriend is within punching distance\u2026 yeah.]<\/p>\n
So the statement about her larger figure is what\u2019s been lingering in the back of my head as of late. \u201cI just don\u2019t give a shit.\u201d It has such a negative connotation, but when I think about it, I wonder whether I have a similar opinion about myself.<\/p>\n
My current job doesn\u2019t have a very strict dress code (if it does, I\u2019m probably pushing the guidelines a little). Slacks and nice shoes, no t-shirts, then there\u2019s casual Fridays (Yay for jeans!)\u2026 But there may be a lot of unwritten rules that I\u2019m breaking because they\u2019re not written.<\/p>\n
Haven\u2019t shaved in a week? \u201cNo biggie.\u201d<\/p>\n
Wrinkly clothes? \u201cWhatever.\u201d<\/p>\n
White socks with black shoes? \u201cI\u2019ve committed a crime against humanity and I should be hunted down by the fashion police and shot on sight.\u201d<\/p>\n
In other words, I\u2019m not overly concerned about my appearance. Why? I don\u2019t think<\/i> it\u2019s because I don\u2019t give a shit. Admittedly, I don\u2019t worry much about what people think about how I look. I\u2019m comfortable with myself and want to be comfortable in what I\u2019m wearing (Yay for jeans!).<\/p>\n
So that\u2019s my internal debate: is that lack of concern the same thing as not giving a shit?<\/p>\n
The more I think about it, the more I find a slight difference between the two. Not giving a shit implies that you don\u2019t care about anything and have no qualms about letting yourself turn into a gelatinous blob of human flesh on the couch (as long as you can still watch Beauty and the Geek on TV\u2026). My lack of concern tends to focus more on other people’s opinions. I\u2019m cool with not shaving or wearing wrinkly clothes, but there are some things I do<\/i> want to avoid.<\/p>\n
I give a shit about putting on too much weight—I like being able to see my toes while standing upright. I give a shit about showering and shaving sometimes<\/i>—I want to maintain some semblance of cleanliness once in a while. I give a shit about what I wear for certain occasions—when I was a groomsman for a friend\u2019s wedding, \u201cYay for jeans!\u201d never crossed my mind. Hard to believe, but it\u2019s true.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s possible that the girl felt the same way. She may not have been worried about how society looked at her because she was happy with herself. It might have been the alcohol stating her opinion in such a negative manner (it was probably the alcohol giving me that giant hug, too\u2026). Truthfully, I\u2019d thought about mentioning something when she said it—it\u2019s okay to not worry about what people think, but don\u2019t just not give a shit—but it\u2019s possible that she didn\u2019t remember meeting me the next morning anyway. \u201cJen, did I give some guy a hug last night? I didn\u2019t give him my phone number, did I? \u2026 Whaddya mean, I let him look at my ribcage?!\u201d<\/p>\n
So I guess that\u2019s where I stand on the matter. I do<\/i> give a shit, but only in particular situations. If the situation doesn\u2019t call for something special, don\u2019t be surprised to find me unshaven and wearing wrinkled clothes and jeans. If you can\u2019t handle that and want to report me to the fashion police\u2026 as long as my socks match my shoes, they probably won\u2019t give a shit, either.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Recently, I\u2019ve been thinking back to an encounter I had at an Oktoberfest last year. Someone walked up to me and asked if I was on a show with beauties and \u201csmart guys.\u201d Very smooth\u2026 But she was merely a scout, chosen in large part because of the large rock on her finger that showed … <\/p>\n