The Has-Been-Hotties

Fat people are slow by their gigantic nature. This, to disillusioned thin people, may seem like a huge disadvantage; well, it might be most of the time like when you are being chased by Fluffy, the neighbours’ annoying poodle, but sometimes it is actually an advantage. See, being slow helps when it comes to observation of various situations and noticing the finer details.

Just look at most male fashion designers and artists. Besides them being generally happy, they are mostly overweight and it is not because they are rich and have been overindulging on chicken wings; no, they are actually rich and famous fashion designers as a result of being fat to begin with. Detail that smaller persons may miss in their usual rush will stand out like a sore thumb to the slower, thicker person, and this has brought these individuals great financial success and all the chicken wings they can eat.

In addition to that, fat people spend much time pursuing their favourite pastime: doing exactly nothing! You might run past my house on your daily afternoon jog and always see me sitting at my balcony having a few dozen beers and a bunch of those tiny little “kiddies” burgers and take pity on me. Or you may even get the silly idea in your tiny head that I might actually not be so fat if I joined you a few days a week on your hurried daily pursuit of nothing, but please spare me; I sit there and indulge in nothingness as a form of entertainment. I look forward to my daily pig-out sessions as much as you look forward to your daily blister-induction fly pursuit.

I have seen many things while sitting on my balcony bird-watching in peace all by myself. I’ve seen entire life stories unfold in front of my very eyes, a morsel of action at a time, and the best bit is that all the characters and situations are real, which is why I believe reality TV has been such a huge success worldwide.

Real pain beats fake pain every single time! A stunt man flying from building to building is entertaining, yes, but a neighbour being caught by his wife with his secretary in their matrimonial bedroom is priceless! And having his nether bits chopped off by the said wife with a blunt bread knife is well worthy of an Oscar! There is no scriptwriter who can put that sequence of events together as it unravels in real life.

From my vantage point, I have observed the lives of a few “birds” I used to watch and secretly had a crush on as a mini tub of lard. These are the ladies who gave me such longing growing up as I could never be with them, but at the same time also gave such joy as they blossomed in front of me while I observed them from behind a bucket of fried chicken or hamburgers each day. This led me to write this piece, which talks about a collective of ladies that in my head exist as one: the Has-Been-Hottie.

The history — observed by a mini tub of lard
This is the woman who 10 years ago was the hottest thing in town. At her prime she was untouchable … unless she wanted to be touched, of course. She was the woman of your dreams, she was your age, but always dated the 40-year-old in the Range Rover Sport. She never gave you the time of day or night; for that matter, she never even looked in your direction, but you knew her well, too well, as you observed from a distance.

You had a relationship with her without her knowing. You saw her at parties all the time, at the mall; maybe she even lived in your area. You loved her, but always knew you would never have her — not then anyway.

During her prime she was the goddess and a status symbol for the man who was lucky enough to have her favour. She, like the car he drove and the area he lived in and the clothes he wore, screamed to the world his superiority and his wealth. She was an object of desire for all of those who needed their egos fuelled. She was the lady of the moment, but would it last forever? Stay with me here …

What transpired? — observed by a transitional tub of lard
She grew up … she grew down, she grew sideways, she just grew. Her window of prime had closed, passed, moved on — reality set in. It didn’t matter how many diets she went on or how many hours she put in at the gym each day, she was over the hill. Don’t get me wrong, this woman did not get ugly; she’s still gorgeous, way gorgeous, but she’s a pretty woman in her late 20s now — no longer a young hottie. And I swear if you looked deep enough into her eyes, what they would reveal is sadness close to none, almost a sorrow, an emptiness that needed to be filled.

She moved on, she moved out of your mind and out of all the others’ minds she used to occupy so greedily. In time, the Range Rover stopped parking outside her flat. She started spending more time at home on the weekends and she got a steady boyfriend — who later dumped her after for a younger woman after he found out who she was or who she used to be; more importantly, who she used to be with. She had grown out.

The present — observed by the Sumo
These days you’ll see the same woman at the taxi rank or in a bus or such modes of transportation. It will look strange to you, almost unnatural; you’ll want to bail her out of this horrid situation, you will want to rescue her. For she’s now one of us, one of the mortals. Life is happening to her just as it happens to all of us plebs every day. She never knew you, but deep in your subconscious you want to help her. It’s an irrational feeling that you won’t listen to or act on — but you will think about it constantly.

She now lives in a flat, probably sharing with a close friend, in an area that is less opulent than what she was used to back then. She doesn’t have a great job, she’s probably just gone back to school part time and is working in an OK job, but it’s not what she wanted for herself. The high life she used to enjoy did not leave much time for studies or a career. She knows that now and it’s not too late for her. Her hairstyle is simple, nothing too extravagant, nothing that will draw attention to her, nothing that will remind her of who she used to be.

What is her fear? Her fear is being recognised by someone who knew her from that previous life, someone who would judge her. To be seen by someone from her past who has a reference point from which to judge her. Someone she once ignored …

But you and her both know that even now, even after her prime, she still has your heart and she can do with it as she pleases. You might have grown up, but the little tub of lard that admired this beautiful specimen still lives inside you, still longs for her.

I still see these ladies every day and wonder to myself what might have transpired had I stepped out from behind that bucket of chicken, wiped my finger on my shirt and approached her. Would she have turned me down flat? Would she have allowed me her friendship at least or maybe even her heart? I guess we’ll never know, or maybe we will. Maybe if the bucket of fast food in front of me were changed to a salad, I might have a chance — or maybe not.

I rest
The Sumo