quelquefois

There’s this man whom I met two months ago named ?? (the name is so close to ???, or Jay Chou, but he couldn’t be further from it). He insists on calling me “???” or “little fatty,” when I’m not even fat, I just (to put it in the words of Vicky Chao) weigh more than 100 pounds. Apparently, he also thinks I’m an idiot. Here is an excerpt of a conversation we had today:

Man: ?????????. (I had a green floral vegetable.)
Me: ????(Broccoli?)
Man: ?????????????????????????(Wow, yeah! How did you know? I didn’t think you knew how to say it in Chinese.)
Me: ?????(Are you kidding me?)

???, x? lán hu?: n. broccoli

Who doesn’t know how to say “broccoli” in Chinese? Even foreigners learning their first year of Chinese know how to say it. Is this a jab at my intelligence? Should I be making fun of him for not being able to fit into regular pants (he’s a student at an athletic university in Beijing, and I think his legs are too ?, thick, to fit into anything but sweatpants)? Should I make fun of him for his st-st-st-stutter?

No, I won’t reduce myself to his level. I’ll just stop picking up his phone calls. I didn’t come to China to have my intelligence underestimated and to feel bad about my body when there’s nothing wrong.