No One's Getting Fat But Mama Cass

That asian kindergartner that disliked her overweight letters had been devising new insults for me.

After the obese letter incident, my next visit began with an attack on my beer belly again. In quick summary, round two of this unscheduled and unexpected bout consisted of a disgusted look at my sagging fleece vest as I reached across the low-standing work table. As I stretched, the little devil hollered out loud, "Look at your fat belly!"

Now, I rarely get offended about my physical nature. I can honestly look at myself, see the deficiencies of my features, and not get frustrated or upset with my aging, unfit body. I especially can respect the power of diet and exercise, two things I have not forced myself to do for much of my life. This time, though, was different. This brown-eyed bully was picking a battle of cut-lows with a man!

She probably had scoped me out right from the start, took aim on a less than obvious weakness where I would be completely caught off-guard, and where she could quickly drop me to my knees with just a couple of well-timed blows.

In this instance, it was simply two attacks that quickly put me on my defensive, and I sharply rebutted by opening my vest, "I am not fat, look, it is just that my vest that is baggy." I exposed the inside of the garment.

Luckily, for me, there was another girl watching this assault, and she rushed to my aid, stopping this ruthless degradation of my yearling buddha midsection. "Yeah, it is his vest. He is not fat, He is skinny." the sweet and typically quiet girl proposed. This eased the rabid chimp's attack, like an aggressive animal being sprayed with the jet stream of a hose.

I took a deep breathe, knowing that I would look like a huge jerk if I were to do or say anything at all.
"I chose the high road, missy smarty. I AM better than you." I thought to myself smugly, however, we both knew that this battle wasn't over.