The Bold and the Breathless

There are a lot of great things about China.

But here is one that is....eh... not so much....

And by saying its not a great thing... I mean that we find it uncomfortable - in a way that when you are confronted by the truth it makes you feel uncomfortable.

Cause here's the thing.

The Chinese are like your mom.

Or a really blunt, overprotective mom who thinks that she's doing you a favor to tell you that your clothes don't match. Or that you look awful. Or that you have a giant zit on your face.

The Chinese are just like that.

Once they get to know you even a little bit - they have no problem telling you what is wrong with you. Or what they perceive to be wrong with you.

And frankly, as a midwesterner who always answers "Great" when asked how I'm doing - even if I'm carrying the gun to kill myself in my pocket - it's all a bit disconcerting.

I like my truth where it belongs: covered over by polite insincerity.

There is a reason we have politeness. There is a reason we tell people what it is they want to hear. And usually the reason is:

We don't care much for the truth.

Sure there are time when the truth is great. Necessary even.

But there are other times... when we don't.

Case in point.

I'm walking out the Hotel the other day to head to work. I run into one of the ladies from the executive lounge where I used to eat breakfast every day before I moved to the apartments.

I haven't seen her in about a month.

Hey - I warmly said. How are you?

Good... she replied. You got fat.

Huh...? I stammered.

Yeah... you're fatter.

I kind of just starred.

You should exercise more.

I am... I said. I play basketball three times a week....

Oh. Well. You should do it everyday.

OK. Well. Thanks.

(I start for the door. Ready to get outta there...)

Wait. She said.... How are you doing?

GREAT! I say...

Reaching for my gun....