Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Uncle Sam Wants Me? I Doubt That...


   

     This morning I opened my email to be met with the usual barrage of erectile dysfunction and penile enlargement solicitations.   Since I am not the proud owner of a phallus, I promptly deleted those and moved on to find my credit card payment had posted, my library books are nearly due and that I have come into $25,000,000 if I simply take the time contact what I’m sure is a wonderfully trustworthy man somewhere deep in Namibia.  Forgive me Mutumbo, but it seems I don’t have a need in my life currently for your $25,000,000.  I watch Dateline.  I know how you roll.  As I skimmed further I found a plea from a friend stranded in Europe and desperately in need of my credit card number so that she and her family could purchase tickets for a safe return to the US.  They may have had me too had I not spoken to her yesterday where she was safely planted at work in Philadelphia.  Though email scoundrels, might I make a suggestion?  Check your grammar before sending me a desperate plea from one of my dear friends for I can assure you, my friends do not dangle participles.  As I neared the bottom of the page and was about to delete incredible deals awaiting me on a low-rate mortgage, discount breast implants and a hot tub, something caught my eye:  The U.S. Army  Needs Soldiers Like You.   Really?  I wouldn’t be so sure about that.
     That email got my bizarre little mind churning….what if?  What if suddenly, the U.S. Military was so desperate that they began recruiting chubby 40-something moms from Middle America?  Don’t laugh, it could happen.  Ok, under really, really dire circumstances, like the kind of dire circumstances when you’ve called every man in the US and not one male under the age of 90 answered his phone.  But in the event that things do come to this point, I’d like to suggest a few changes that will need to be put in place before I sign on officially.


1.       Lose that drab green and sand tan.  No one looks good in those colors.  No one.  I understand that the point of camo is to disguise one in battle so that’s why I recommend we opt for black.  It’s slimming and would make us all look virtually invisible in dark spaces.  We’d be like a platoon of chubby – yet fashionable – ninjas or maybe beatniks.  Regardless, if it’s good enough for ninjas, it’s good enough for the military.

2.      About those overly aggressive screaming drill sergeants,  I’m afraid they will have to go.  I personally do not respond favorably to hostility being lobbed in my general direction at high volume.  I assume my numerous other chubby 40-something female recruits will feel the same as well.  I suggest that drill sergeants begin using positive reinforcement as well as “please”  and  “thanks.”  Instead of “Drop and give me 50 you brainless moron!”  We’ll hear something more like this: “Well good afternoon cadet.  If you wouldn’t mind, could you please perform 20 push-ups at this time?  And might I say, your thighs seem to be firming up nicely.  Thank you.”  Much more pleasant wouldn’t you agree?

3.      And then there is the whole gun issue.  I don’t allow my Midget to play with guns.  I find them repulsive.  However, after a year in day care, he has been sucked totally into little boy land and will have a shoot out at a moments notice-though he does respect my hatred enough to call them ‘spouters’ in my presence and claims he is only shooting water.  Full disclosure – I did once go to a shooting range and fully enjoyed myself, but was young and foolish then and my judgment was certainly skewed.   I propose that when I enter the military, we just do away with the whole firearm thing.  Let’s work on talking things out.  I’m quite certain that if we just lay down arms and have a good solid gabfest with the Taliban, perhaps on a deck surrounded by wisteria with a nice bottle of merlot, things will be ironed out in no time.
                                                                                 
4.      Weight requirements.  There will be none.  Enough said.

5.      Physical training will no longer be crawling through the mud with one’s elbows.  Rather, I propose that we train in climate controlled areas complete with a cute young recruits delivering chilled water (with lemon of course) to us as we stroll along on our treadmills while watching Dr. Oz.  We’ll meet the same end in physical fitness so why not do it in a civilized manner.

    So, Uncle Sam, if you do in fact want a few soldiers like me, these are the changes that will have to be made.  Reasonable?  I think so.  I know my people and I can say without a doubt that clad in our sleek black ensembles, surrounded by positive vibes with wine in hand, we will have achieved world peace in time to get the kids to bed and catch the newest episode of Sister Wives.   Uncle Sam, I’m awaiting your call.  But until then, I see I just got another email from Sister Carol at the Saint Jude Society, “We’re Waiting For You.”  Looks like I’m going to need to make some changes to the nunnery…



Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Even Pole Dancers Like Comfortable Pants Sometimes...




     In a world filled with rapidly expanding waistlines, why does the fashion industry insist on filling malls with spandex and translucent fabrics not found in nature?   Is there a demand for plus size hoochies in the job market?  Did I miss something?  Should I hang up my career in education and gear up for one as a rotund pole dancer?   I didn’t think so.   As I look around at society I refuse to believe that we, the United States of big butts, are requesting micro minis and 14” stilettos.  So after several recent disheartening trips to the mall, I realized it was time for me to speak out for my people.  From hence forth I proclaim myself Official Spokesperson for the Big Butted Babes of American.  Michael Kors?  Calvin?  Donnatella?   Are you listening?  This is for you.


Dear Fashion Industry,

We are the women of America.  We jiggle and we ripple and we have dimples that are not on our faces. Yes, there is that 2% that looks good in your clothes but most of them are under age 16 and the rest are most likely drug addicts.  Take away those two constituencies and you have the rest of us and we are divided into three distinct camps:

1.       Mighty Mamas - Those that know they are fat and embrace it.  For those you have created the entire Plus Size industry and you as an industry are making a freaking fortune off those girls.

2.       Voluptuous Vixens - Those of us who don’t fit into plus sizes but have too much chub to look good in your clothes.  We are the size 14s - the forgotten chubs.

3.       Clueless Chubs -Those who are new to the life of chub and don’t quite realize they are fat – this is a dangerous area and this is where you prey.  Shame on you Fashion Industry.  Shame.  On. You.

We're on to your methods.  You make your money on the Mighty Mamas by offering the rare flattering clothing items for big girls at triple the price.  Then you attack the Clueless Chubs by marketing them the same items their pencil-thin girlfriends are wearing and capitalizing on their impaired judgment.  They are fresh to this world of girth, they didn’t grow up in Huskies and Pretty Plus and thus they don’t know!  Their chaffed thighs are new and they are still confused.  The next thing they know their newly acquired size 20 body is stuffed into a pair of size 18 ‘skinny jeans.’   Skinny Jeans that you made for them Fashion Industry.  Ain’t nothin’ skinny about a pair of size 18 jeans so stop lying.  Just sayin’.    Then after you have successfully stuffed them into those bright orange so-called “Skinny Jeans, “ you woo them into one of your stylish skirts currently flooding the market.  These skirts are wider than they are long and come in a variety of ass widening patterns including leopard and plaid.   What is wrong with you Fashion Makers of 2012?  If those skirts fall into the wrong hands (those wrong hands being anyone other than a plus-size pole dancer) there could be a disaster of immeasurable proportions.


Fashion Industry, as the Official Spokesperson for the Big Butted Babes of America, I offer this simple request.  Take a moment to get to know us and then make us some clothes that fit.   I know you feel you have a better handle on what we want that we do, but last time I checked, I didn’t see a single mom at Preschool Drop-off rockin’ Lucite platforms, a micro-mini and a crocheted halter top (not even that one who I’m pretty sure actually is a pole dancer).   We’re not all hookers and we don’t all enjoy sharing our cleavage with passersby.  (Not that there is anything wrong with hookers, I’m sure they are wonderful people but I’d  venture to guess that even hard working sex workers would like a pair of pants that don’t show buttcrack now and then.)  Stop making skinny girl clothes in fat girl sizes and start making decent clothes in all sizes.    And don’t forget those of us stuck in the middle, too chubby to be trendy, too skinny to be plus sized.  I think I speak for all when I say – I want pants that don’t give me a camel toe,  shirts that don’t show my back fat and shoes that wouldn’t serve as a weapon if I fell victim to mugging.  Is that too much to ask?  I think not.  Now get to work.  I’ve been to the mall recently and it looks like you’ve got a long road ahead of you.

Best,
Official Spokesperson for The Big Butted Babes of America