A story about another fat girl

Life had been going good for a long while then. Fate had been my ally and all great things were coming my way. My mind was sharper than ever, I had taken to new choices for a better lifestyle and I was much more sure of things in my head. I should have been happier but long ago I had dismissed happiness as a mere distracting-limiting relative construct much like satisfaction.

It was a winter morning and I had spent 45 precious minutes of my life traveling from the suburbs to the city. I was meeting a smart-soon-to-be-successful-nerd for coffee-table discussions. I have seen so many people grow out of their college selves and it amazes me how all of us leading such disparate lives evolve into hopeful-twenty-somethings with overlapping measures to rationalize those contrasting life-experiences.


The coffee was done with and I cafe-hopped onto another table where my regular gang was hanging out. This is how I had spend so many of my mornings – having a cup of coffee here and then another there and other there and other there. One can afford passing fancies in youth, and I do miss mine. 


But this morning there was someone irregular at the table. Irregular in every cliched-societal-norm-kind-of-away – she was very fat, extremely fat. She was loud, very loud. Also she was chain smoking regulars. God, I miss my youth.

I didn’t like her much at first. Not that I have an aversion to fat people, I mean I cannot now that I think I fit that category myself. No, I didn’t like her much at first because I have aversion to loud-attention-grabbing-people. You know the kind of people who tell their own stories thinking that the audience is very keen to hear proofs of how cool they usually are in daily-life-situations.

Little did I know that two hours later I would fall in love with this beautiful overweight unusual-jane.

What happened in those two hours that led to a paradigm shift in my much-biased outlook? 

Much of it took place in my head. She wasn’t exactly smart. But she was fun…ny. Oh yes, so funny. The laugh-in-my-face-you-nigga kind of funny. So while she was afflicted with the disease of the commons to regale others with their life-stories she did it with a certain chutzpah. And I had not laughed so hard in a while.

I am not going to say the typical things people say about misfit-people. You know the kind like – she was so full of life, so energetic, so optimistic despite you know her problem. No, I am not going to go down that line of reasoning, I can make better observations.

This lass had nothing special about her. She was just so normal. Like how we are on most days. I needed to be reminded of that. In my search for meaning, I had forgotten how to breathe. This fat-loud-regular-smoking gal told me silently with her eyes- laugh a little, it’s ok, don’t be such a stuck up bitch, just breathe and be cool. And boy, did I need to hear that.

The picture used in this article has been clicked me.


Author: pecsbowen


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