If made to pick a hero, I'd have to say it's Cartman from South Park.  He makes C- on everything (and always says, Sonofabitch when he gets back  his papers), he's a self-absorbed, greedy little shit, and he's fat. Oh, yeah, and mom's a nympho.  How can you not love a kid like that?  But I love him most of all because he always says he's not fat, just big boned.  I know the feeling, old buddy.  I'm always having to fight off the short image thing.  And, I'm not really short, unless you consider six feet tall as short.  Actually, I'm not longer a six footer.  Old age has reduced me to a mere 5'11 and a smidgen.  But I'm not short, dammit.

Back when I was 44 years old, I had my first date with my current wife.  I walked her to the door that evening after the date and moved closer, hoping for a good night smooch.  She pushed me away, looked up and said, "You're not short.  I don't like short guys, but you're not short," and then she laid a big one on me.  After this first big kiss, I said, "I never said I was short, did I?"  Then she said that at a distance, I look short, but up close, I'm not short at all.  So I walked off thinking, well, what's up with that deal?

Not long after that I was walking down main street and caught an image of myself in a store window.  You've had the experience, I'm sure, of suddenly seeing someone's reflection in the window and realizing it's you.  In my case, I saw the reflection, then looked around to see who the chubby guy was following me.  No one was there.  Shit!  That's me, I realized . . . and I also realized why people thought I was short.  I was a big guy then - a muscular, stocky guy with a bit of a belly.  I weighed about 220 lbs., worked out regularly, and stayed in good shape.  Today, I'm 66 years old, and I weigh 254 lbs, naked and early in the morning.  And the belly is bigger now, and I'm not in near as good a shape as back then.  But . . . I'm bigger . . . and I'm still not short, dammit.

I've got a friend up in north Texas who's about my size, a few years my junior, and we look enough alike to be brothers.  He's bald too, got a big wooly beard, even bigger than mine, and he's also on the rotund side.  Some of his friends call him "the vanilla gorilla."  That's a good name for him, and
maybe the moniker might fit me too . . . but we're not short, dammit.

Fat is a nasty word and I always refused to use it . . . on myself.  Other words for fat are about as bad, like obese.  Shit, I hate that word.  But I give up when it comes to finding substitute words for my body shape.  I'm not chubby, or stocky, or athletic, or anything like that because I'm bigger than that.  What I am in all honesty is fat . . . so there, I said it.  I'm fat!  Just call me Tubbo, or Fatso, I don't give a shit.

But don't call me short . . . dammit!

D. Paz, 1/18/08