| Can anyone squeeze me in? |
| Once upon a time back in the late seventies we used to look at the bulging bulks, women and men, from America and laugh at the lunacy of their predicament! Now we "innocents" in New Zealand are just as big! We are so proud of ourselves; for all this has been achieved by swallowing fewer big Macs than they have.
We, the unsaved fraternity, were cruel in our assessments of the profusely podgy. We, the unsaved fraternity, uttered contemptuously in our hearts; "here is fodder for our amusement". How time has caught up on our stupidity. |
How brightly the light of "I told you so" is now shining on our bulging bottoms. A kiwi of pedigree would not normally mention this problem publicly. Not being a kiwi of exquisite pedigree when let loose at a computer keyboard, I have no such qualms. Why should memories of my former insensitivity not give rise to the opportunity to indulge? As you can probably hear in the nirvana of Nelson, even with the cotton wool stuffed in your ears, the huff and puff in my heart is not healthy! I must do something, so that my blood pressure sinks.
Being a woman of immaculate proportions, I sometimes have occasion to travel by bus. Nobody in their right mind, in such a forum as this, would ever claim to be totally incompetent. I am no exception! In day to day matters of my trouble-free interaction with the general public have I not no difficulties in painting this impression?
Here I am then, a woman of immaculate proportions trying to avail myself of a seat on a bus to get me back home to my waiting, dispondent husband. Looking flawlessly attired, apart from having no handbag, no lipstick on my lips, and no daft expensive metal drooping from my ears. "Can I squeeze in beside you, Sir?" I asked the man. He had a gruff face and a horrid stench of alcohol on his breathe. All my tired eyes could do was to linger on his fat thighs that were taking up about 60% of my hoped-for-space.
Being a lover of fresh air I found myself in somewhat of a quandry. Those thighs, belonging to the man who had my focus, I felt sure were growing in size. It was now quite impossible for even half of me to squeeze in beside this gentleman. My mind wandered back to last saturday; for I was in urgent need of refreshment. My mind wandered back to that wonderful time my husband and I had on the golf links. All tied up going onto the eighteenth green I hit this whopping shot off the tee.
A giraffe unbeknown to us was playing hide and seek with the sand in the bunker. My shot bounced off his bowed head straight into the hole for a hole in one. You can imagine my amusement! No debate about it, my best mate was in a state and a half.
I looked up from my self absorbed memories for a moment. The "thighs" that stood between me and temporal happiness had gone.
I sat down triumphantly. I sat down triumphantly, a picture of composure and contentment. And feeling fantastically blessed by God I duly lost, on purpose, my next golfing sparing match with my husband, thus restoring his sullen face!