If you are a Big ‘Ol Fat Person, is a Poncho like the Top thing you can Wear?

It has to be. It does not inhibit the natural ebb and flow of the fat as you waddle about your day. It lets air circulate to various underfat regions that would otherwise be suffocating when wearing clothes not designed for Mexican cowboys. Essentially you just grab a big blanket and stick your giant melon head through the hole in the middle, and you are ready to rock. Another feature is the ease with which you can brush off hot dog toppings, pepperoni, cookie crumbs, pie fillings, globs of mayonnaise and french fries which miss your gullet in the frenzy which occurs at the mouth. You can just wipe that shit right off with a ham hock-swipe of the arm and not worry about buttons, cuffs or tucking in. The Poncho says “Laid back and unkempt”, but without sacrificing “Ready to go to a jam-band concert”.

The reason I ask is that there are two women who work in my building that wear a poncho most days. Yes, two. I don’t know which company(ies) they work for, but they are in my building. How do two women over the age of 30 find themselves employed in the same building in downtown Chicago at the same time, both adorned in Ponchos you ask? That is a question for Stephen Hawking or perhaps Jean Paul Sartre, not me. But they are here. Both carry themselves with an air of slovenliness and lack of hygiene, though they take different routes to the same destination. One gal opts to shower, but never comb or in any other way take care of her own hair. The other rather looks showered, but always with hair that looks as though it was doused with bacon grease each morning and combed straight back, like a longer styling of Pat Reilly’s. The latter is also seen loitering about local businesses and common areas, eating and drinking Starbucks milkshakes. She is perpetually running her ample mouth, voicing her disdain for everyone in her personal life and her coworkers. I imagine that she is an incredibly popular person in the office. My guess is that the only time anyone speaks to her is at the annual office Christmas (sorry, Holiday–thanks feminists) party when the veterans try to see if they can get the Fuckin’ New Guy drunk enough to roll in the straw with her. Say what you will about their hair or their personality, you cannot say these two lasses aren’t comfortable under their well-worn wool ponchos in festive Mexican stitch. Whether its riding the bus, sipping your 6th Venti Frozen Caramel Macchiato of the day, or just hanging out in the lobby bitching up a storm, you can go about your day unfettered by the likes of the vile sleeve or the sinister button. And when Cinco de Mayo rolls around each year, you’re fucking well ready.

PS–The first person to comment with the correct origin of the line: “Oh yeah. Isn’t she a big ‘ol fat person?” wins absolutely nothing.

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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One Response to If you are a Big ‘Ol Fat Person, is a Poncho like the Top thing you can Wear?

  1. Anonymous says:

    Clint Eastwood's Spaghetti Westerns made the poncho cool, obese people made it practical.

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