i suppose the first question is what exactly you mean by fat. dumpiness, being often in the inner eye of the beholder, is notoriously difficult to define. it may, in fact, ultimately be a function of one's attitude to oneself. ie am i a dollop? am i grosser than i want to be? and, crucially do i, or any body else, actually give a damn?
murky waters indeed, but nonetheless deep. and dangerously unpredictable as the definition itself becomes a movable feast. starting a few ounces over emaciated it can run, not to say wobble, all the way up to obesity and beyond.
whatever it means the word 'fat' punches well above its own weight. it should be used with caution. finding its way into the wrong ear at the wrong moment the new 'f' word can elicit a bolt of electric venom fierce enough to skin a rhino. trust me. i've been there.
on the other, pudgy, hand of course it can be a great bonding tool. for example to convince your chosen that she is the only one for you, you can use it to describe her enemies. 'yes beloved,' you might say, ' ariadne can be so selfish. could it be because she runs ever so slightly to fat.'
the point being of course not that ariadne is a bit on the hefty side, who cares anyway, but that the apple of your eye demonstrably is not. otherwise how could you have been so reckless as to raise the issue in her company in the first place. no, obviously your remark means that your own true love is the ultimate slender goddess incarnate. while ariadne, poor thing, is heading to frumpdom in a handcart. or two.
once your troth has been plighted the concept may still come in handy. if only by implication. caught admiring another lady's physique in the spouse's company, the first scowl to crackle across the ether can sometimes be earthed with an adroit 'i'm not sure denim looks good that stretched, dear.' your meaning will be clear enough. below the ritual reprimand don't be surprised when your elbow receives an affectionate squeeze as the sun shines through once more.
personally i like ladies with presence. to me they look like, well, ladies actually. and it ain't just visual. no, you roll on with the subcutaneous insulation girls. voluptuous and substantial are big, and i mean big, positives as far as i am concerned.
women themselves, it seems, cannot be so forgiving. especially when its their own tummies in question. martyrs to the fascism of physicality it can be quite upsetting to see how much not fitting into some arbitrary body shape can hurt. so upsetting in fact that, in true bleeding heart style, i take their pain upon myself.
well, that is, i used to. recent events have caused me to reconsider.
you see i'm a sucker for a sad tale. recently while trawling the blogosphere i bumped into a maiden all forlorn. on the face of it her grievance focused around her coiffure but i soon sniffed out the true seat of her melancholy. 'help me, help me, help me,' wailed the sub-text. 'I'M FAT.'
instantly my chivalrous side thrust its way to the fore. gallantly, i thought, i set about to slay the dragon of self loathing that so grievously imprisoned her. 'no you're not,' i commented, referring to the photos on her blog. 'you're just you and altho not a skinny scarecrow, you look fine to me.'
in fact i may have used the term 'gorgeous.' by now i was on a roll and there was no holding back.'i've been around for a bit, doll,' i said, 'and you look great. anyway just think of skin as an erogenous zone. do that and it stands to reason that the more you got the more fun you gonna have.'
'there we are,' i thought once i'd finished. 'that should bring a smile to those full lips.'
huh, did it fairy cakes?
the next thing i knew i was on the receiving end of a sound telling off from her husband. who let me know in no uncertain terms that he wasn't happy with me referring to his wife in this way. further, my reference to her erogenous zones had so enraged him that he was considering crossing at least one continent and ocean so he could catch up with me and 'kick my ass.'
as i don't own a donkey i couldn't imagine what he meant but with my screen shuddering to the stamping of rampant testosterone and snorts of angry breath as they thundered through his text it was clear that he didn't have my best interests at heart. i instantly grovelled in apology.
on thinking about it tho i realised that i hadn't been talking about specifics, just made a general point about skin and its functions. i'd done my best to cheer his beloved up and in doing so had been sorely misunderstood.
hey nonny no, such is the cyber vagabond's misfortune. onwards and upwards ..... but tarry a while, before leaving this tale behind altogether i feel there are valuable lessons to be learned. for all of us.
firstly for her: don't bleat to the universe that things ain't right and then go running to hubby when the universe comes riding to the rescue.
secondly for him: rather than waste all that energy in testosterone posturing at what was scarcely even a virtual violation of his marital condition, perhaps he could spend some time checking out why his beloved needs to reach out to the stars for reassurance and comfort in the first place.
thirdly for me: as far as i'm concerned fat girls can get on with being fat and unhappy. who am i to intervene after all? whether they cry heavier tears or not is no longer of any interest to me whatsoever. anyway its all subjective. isn't it?
peace and love and movin' on.
© Patrick Ellis
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