I won't be reading Skinny Bitch. I love meat and I have a freakishly high metabolism. Plus I only take Posh's recommendations on historical fiction.
But I can guess why everyone's snatching it up: The obesity crisis is so grim - one-third of us obese, two-thirds overweight - that if anyone can inject humor into the discussion, things might seem a little less dire. Most everyone agrees that America needs to lose weight - and lots of it. Our life expectancy now lags behind 41 other countries.
And yet ... I'm conflicted. Not every overweight person should lose weight. My trip this past weekend to Minneapolis was bookended by the downside - and the upside - of fat. I'll explain...
***
To get to JFK airport on Friday, I decided to take the train and save $60 in cab fare. When I got on the train there was only one unoccupied seat in the car, at the right side of a very fat man. But the man was taking up more than his seat, his stomach sprawling, spilling onto the empty seat - like lava flowing from Mount Saint Helens. I went and stood over him. He looked up from his Sudoku puzzle, his eyes half open, took a deep breath, and with great effort leaned his body onto his left (port side) buttock. As the train car creaked, a good deal of his stomach rolled back from the "empty" seat, providing a small space for me.
I thanked him and sat down. But because it was still only three-quarters empty, I was squeezing into a too-small space - and caught my pocket in the armrest to the right of my seat.
Riiiiipppppp. Along the right side of my Moschino khaki trousers, a horrendous tear opened up.
Above: The tear in my Moschino trousers, courtesy of the fat man.
When standing, the damage was less noticeable. (Those are threads around the tear, not hairs.)
I was furious at the man. I wanted him to see the tear himself, to acknowledge what he had done to my pants, so that he would never forget! But to turn my body around in that small space, so that he could see my exposed right buttock, wasn't worth the effort.
Yet in my anger at him - and at the many overweight people who've crowded me over the years (have you flown out of O'Hare?!) - I suddenly had a flashback:
In the late 1970s and early '80s I accompanied my parents to a number of grownup Christmas parties. I loved grownup Christmas parties for one main reason: the Christmas cookies! The thin tree-shaped cookies with green and red sprinkles would make me tremble with ecstasy. I couldn't stop gobbling them up off the tray, throwing back Hawaiian punch like a lush, to wash them down.
Christianity may not have a perfect history. But as far as I'm concerned, Christmas cookies more than make up for the Crusades.
I remember one party in 1979, in Northern Virginia - before NoVA was yuppified and stripped of character. I wore a tan Pierre Cardin suit and, precocious 10 year old that I was, I made my usual chit-chat with the adults: "I bet the Iranian hostages will be released before next Christmas!" I chirped.
As was customary, most of the grownups got tired of indulging me. But sitting on the sofa there was one woman who invited me to sit next to her. She was an older woman and she was big. Not just big-boned, but big-butted and big-breasted. And strong. A proud country woman, the kind who oversee weekend flea markets with military authority, undaunted by heat, mosquitoes, or brittle bargain-hunting city women. Tonight she was wearing her holiday best, some sort of green damask, her dark hair in a modified beehive. (Imagine a woman in a Far Side cartoon.)
I sidled up to the Giant-Breasted Virginia Country Woman, eating my cookies and yapping away: "When Amy Carter goes to school, she has Secret Service agents!"
"Now is that right?" she asked, her accent thick, her mountainous chest heaving up and down as she laughed.
But pretty soon, the sugar hit me - and I started to crash. I wanted nothing more than to lie down ... and sleep. But where?
"Babies who live near Three ... Mile ... Island ... have ... an ... extra ..." I trailed off, half a cookie dropping onto my lap. I had no more energy.
That's when the GBVCW came to the rescue. As my eyelids fluttered shut, she mobilized: she put her arm around me, gripped my shoulder with her paw, and pulled my head into her breasts. And I plunged into dreamland.
Her bounteous Old Dominion boobs were bliss, nirvana, heaven. I slept for only 20, 30 minutes tops. But it was probably the deepest sleep I'll ever have. Her breasts could have cured the worst sufferer of sleep apnea! Had the Giant-Breasted Virginia Country Woman been thin, even normal weight, she would have been useless to me at that critical moment. If a picture existed of the GBVCM, I'd post it.
Luckily my weekend to Minneapolis-St. Paul ended with another brush with the same kind of woman.
The flight back to New York aboard Sun Country Airlines was full. I spent the whole time reading, until the snack cart rolled to a stop by me. I looked up - and that's when I saw Barb.
Awesomely Big-Breasted Barb didn't have quite the height of the GBVCW, but she projected the same power - with a funky twist. She wore cat glasses, but with clear frames, and a pair of dangly earrings. (The modern American woman's rejection of dangly earrings is a scandal and the subject for a future posting.) Her hair was short and she had lots of arty jewelry on her wrists and fingers. Otherwise, she was good old-fashioned Germanic girth, Teutonic tonnage. As wide and steady as the Battleship Bismarck. (The Royal Navy would stand no chance against this vessel.) Barb was beautiful.
I rushed to pull my camera out of the overhead. Then, conscious of the presence of an air marshal somewhere on the plane, I very carefully tried to take a picture of her.
Above: Barb getting ready to toss a Turkey Pastrami sandwich and cookie at me. The look of consternation on my face is meant to suggest to suspicious passengers that I'm simply trying to take a self-portrait. In fact I'm trying to get a shot of Awesomely Big-Breasted Barb (AB3).
I took a great risk in getting this picture of Barb. (Across the aisle sat a Nordic-looking St. Paulite. He seemed nervous when I began playing with my camera. I was convinced he was about to tackle me.) But I wanted my readers to get a sense of AB3.
By the end of the trip, I was cranky, my neck was aching, and I wanted nothing more than to sit on Barb's lap, my face in her breasts, and sleep. (Presumably we'd need a seat belt extender to strap the two of us in for landing.) Of course that didn't happen. But it was my fervent wish.
I guess what I'm saying is, I understand America needs to lose weight. But what will happen to all the women like GBVCW and AB3? The culture could indeed lose something important.
Do you have relatives or family friends like these two women? Have they given similar comfort at tired, cranky times? Please share your remembrances of generous big women with gigantic breasts!!
Reader Comments ( Page 5 of 10)
61. Mo,
I loved reading this. Being a big girl myself, I find that my children, nieces and nephews always want to rest their little heads on me, or fall asleep on me.I know that there is nothing in the world that can compare to that. Thanks for sharing.
Ria at 10:55PM on Aug 14th 2007
62. Hey, whats wrong with skinny bitches?? I think Mo Rocca has far too much time on his hands!
anaschild at 10:56PM on Aug 14th 2007
63. In Manhattan, on Avenue D THE IS NOT A PROPLEM, ITS MORE THE ABILITY TO SPEAK WITH OUT BEING VULGAR THAT DOES THEM IN. but this is part of the hole look!
Slim Jose at 11:01PM on Aug 14th 2007
64. all these so called "dirty looks" women say that they give and get....WHAT IS THAT??? I dont EVER notice a women giving me a dirty look unless it is warrented! ( I cut her off in traffic or let the elevator close before letting her on ) I cant IMAGINE giving a woman a "dirty" look just because of her size. I COULD NOT CARE LESS ABOUT WHAT ANOTHER HUMAN BEINGS BODY looks like unless it is my own or my hubby's. GEESH! RIDICULOUS!
But yes Mo... My grandmother had that exact mound of love you describe. Along with the scent of WINDSONG and baby powder, a mix I'll never forget.
notanutha at 11:20PM on Aug 14th 2007
65. Mo, You're right! And I think, even if the obesity epidemic is staunched and America gets healthy and fit and trim, we'll still have fat people. When we were all farmers, moving non-stop from 4 am until 9 pm, there were fat people, so don't fear...there may be a cushy pillow of large breasts for you to nap on, yet!
I feel bad about your torn pants, though. I wonder if that poor obese man will ever tell himself the truth: being fat is NOT healthy, and it is NOT fun.
bunsofaluminum at 11:32PM on Aug 14th 2007
66. Mo, so sorry about the pants! Did you have to fly with that big tear in them? And you have nothing to apologize for for wearing briefs--thank goodness you were wearing SOMETHING under your khakis, eh?
I don't fly that much so maybe I'm out of the loop, but it's considered suspicious activity to have your camera out taking photos on a plane? When did that happen? In any event, thanks for putting your freedom at risk to get documentation for your piece.
As for the overweight in our society, I can't say I view them as objects of desire, but I would caution against treating them with derision: it can happen to you! It can happen to (almost) anyone! I have a friend from college who was noted, in his youth, for his trim waistline, but after episodes of depression later in life ballooned to over 300 pounds. We're all just a few emotionally traumatic events away from walking in their orthopedic shoes.
Joseph at 11:31PM on Aug 14th 2007
67.
Skinny girls are not all bitches. Chubby girls are not all lazy. Maybe we should stop identifying ourselves with how much fat we're storing, and we'd stop caring so much about the dirty looks we're supposedly getting from people we don't know.
deepalipatel at 11:39PM on Aug 14th 2007
68. Big girls rock! Skinny chicks rock! Small minded mean spirited bloggers, well kind of blow.
Sorry Mo.
Nite Kg
kevingerarrd at 11:43PM on Aug 14th 2007
69. Dear Mo,
One more reason to love you.
Katy Cunningham at 11:49PM on Aug 14th 2007
70. As a woman with an ample bosom, who has been thin and thick, the one comment every man I ever dated, as well as my husband, has said is that I am very comfortable to hold. Even at my thinnest, I have never been "skinny" or "bony", but now that I have four children, their favorite place for a story is sitting on my lap or at my side with their heads on my breasts. With all the money we spend looking for the perfect pillow, I'm thinking I may have found a new use for all those silicone breast implants women no longer want to have implanted.
hugabugs at 12:03AM on Aug 15th 2007
71. Interesting that most comments were from comfortably sized women, and all seem pleased. But I must comment about the fat man. (Remember, the: "I was furious at the man. I wanted him to see the tear himself, to acknowledge what he had done to my pants, so that he would never forget!") I can understand anger. You seemed to feel it was his intention to rip your pants, or his intention to sit in a seat that was too small for him. Many trains, probably like the one you rode, have seats designed by the Japanese, to accommodate much smaller butts, but are being used for the general population here, where we have different genes. Naturally, this makes the seats way too small for some. Perhaps you could help call attention to the need for some type of seating for more than just small size. I've been skinny, I've been medium sized, and I've been fat. On planes, sometimes my knees hit the seat in front of me. (I'm also tall) Public transportation needs to fit the requirements of the public, not merely skinny public. Failure to do so makes a repeat performance of your train experience guaranteed. (BTW, the redesign of those seats has caused MANY men to have ripped pants, not just men sitting next to fat men. Give the bill to the Metropolitan Transportation Authority, as they frequently compensate customers for the repairs required from their seating design choice.) If one of the large women you melted around had been sitting in that train seat, would you have had the same anger? You mentioned the many overweight people who crowded you over the years. Think back, did they crowd you when you were both sitting on a bench seat, or in seats of ample size?
As to obesity epidemics, are you aware that we changed the size/weight charts to include formerly normal weight people into the overweight category? Overnight, there was a sudden epidemic. Those people didn't change, just the weight charts.
Josephine at 12:31AM on Aug 15th 2007
72. After a slim, athletic lifetime, I started to put on weight two years ago at 54 after my partner's death. My late partner was inclined to overweight all his life and endured societal contmpt and a certain amount of discrimination throughout his life during fat periods. If he were alive he would probably tease me about my weight gain, but I know he would not love me any less for it.
I work in the fasion industry and thus have known many more anorectic women than the average person has. Three women of my acquaintance died of this sad affliction. Extremes in either direction are unhealthy, but it is the overweight who are subjected to ridicule and contempt. Personally, those I have known who were compulsive overeaters were no less and no more neurotic than their self-starving counterparts. I think we hould strive to be healthy, but I think neither morbid obesity nor skeletal thinness is desirable or attractive, and I think there are worse things in the world than being a size 16, especially now that they are equivalent to the size 12's of thirty years ago.
HMG at 12:36AM on Aug 15th 2007
73. I am a big girl and I love your opinion, Mo. Too bad society can't follow along. Any other big girls out there...if you feel low, just listen to "Big Girl" by Mika. It will make you feel peachy. And, of course, read this blog again. God Bless big women! He gave me these pillows for good reason. Babies love me cause I am comfy!
Rettalynne at 1:07AM on Aug 15th 2007
74. i know from what other people have said here hurts. Its either being ridiculed for being too big or too small. Two of my best friends have been harassed for being too big, both openly in my presense. It hurts me so much to see this happen to them, knowing that if its happening in my presence, that it happens a hell of a lot more when I'm not around.
My case is different, however. Ever since I can remember, women and men alike have hassled me about my weight, for being too small. When going through adolescence, I was always picked on for being "too skinny" and trying just about anything to gain weight. In recent years, I've filled out nicely, but still get harassed at college and work for my size, once to the point where I had to have an intervention with my roommates because they wouldn't stop picking on me for my size.
I sympathize with both areas of the spectrum, because I know what its like to be picked on for this problem, where my too best friends are a size 16 and the other being a 14; while me being a 2. It goes both ways.
rebecca at 1:18AM on Aug 15th 2007
75.
HI MO, THE WAY YOU DEALT WITH '' SKINNY BITCH WITH BIG TITS''
THAT WAS THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY DAY. I LOVED IT!
marsha beckerman at 2:20AM on Aug 15th 2007