Sunday, August 2, 2009

Queen of the Fatties

I'm spending the weekend in a charming little town in rural New England. My host has a beautiful big house on top of a green, green hill with a swimming pond, a couple of cows, a couple dogs, a wife who cooks really well, and rugrats running all over the place. It's really quite charming and, despite my deep-seated need for excitement and variety, I did feel a distinct pang of desire to live that life. It was a soft summer evening, the food and beer was flowing. We went for a dive in the cold pond, and at night set off some fireworks and then sat around the fire and drank wine and whiskey while the kids ran around, excited that the adults were too drunk to care that they were staying up past their bedtime. Perhaps I'll settle down to something like that when I'm a little older.

But one night this week two friends and I also went out to sample the nightlife in this little town. Now, we weren't expecting anything great. There's no college here, and very little population base. But my friends are the kind of guys who like to live it up full bore no matter where they travel. One's a crazy Central American guy — a farm-owner, a scientist and complete lady's man — who laughs maniacally at the drop of a hat (it charms most people but also has the power to completely freak them out). The other is European — an economist and a wine connoisseur and quite refined — whose travels take him to the most remote corners of the globe of anyone I know (western Zambia, anyone?). Both are older than me, both pull hot women wherever they go, and both are models to me as to how I want to be when I am their age. I've traveled a lot for work with these guys, and between us, together and apart, we've hit up the night scene in at least 30 countries and God knows how many small towns.

Sometimes you are surprised at what you find (did you know that, if you judge on the quantity and quality of the women, the music, the drinks, the setting and just the general amount of fun one is liable to have, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, has one of the hottest club scenes in the world?) Other times the small, sleepy towns are just that: small and sleepy. But we still have fun drinking the local beer and chatting up the bizarre old lady tending the bar, or wandering around the streets with the local mad poet.

In this small New Englad town, however, I was depressed at what I saw. There were two little bars next to each other, each with a dance floor. The music was pretty fucking awful (who still plays that Usher "Yeah" song? That song sucked balls when it came out and that was five years ago). The guys were mostly skinny and pasty and half of them looked like they were on meth. And the girls? Oh my... fat, fat, fat.

With literally three exceptions, all of the few dozen girls we saw were seriously overweight. Many of them had what looked like once-cute faces, still young, being slowly enveloped in folds of chub, their eyes sinking bit by bit into that vast fleshy pool, and with their eyes — seemingly — their souls.

"Jesus," said my European friend, looking around in dismay, "this is really depressing." My Latin friend just sucked his rum and coke through his teeth and looked around nodding his head, like someone searching for something polite to say. This in particular made me a bit ashamed. As the "host" in this situation, I felt the obligation to make sure my foreign friends had a good time. Oh well, there's that conference in LA coming up...

We hung out for a while, talked to a few locals and shared some laughs. I played a little "guess what country we are from" game with a mediocre girl sitting at the bar, out of sheer boredom. Outside on the sidewalk, smoking, I saw a girl who was a solid 6. I noticed her immediately because she was actually not fat (Hallelujah!) ... and she may have been a 7. I couldn't tell because she was wearing a lot of makeup and an awful, tragic poofy newsboy hat. At that point of course, I didn't care. I talked with her for a while, watching her mannerisms and her mood.

What struck me was that she really seemed convinced she was ridiculously hot. Here was this average to decent looking girl, covered in makeup, wearing some fucked up Dom DeLuise thing on her head, preening and checking over her shoulder like the Queen of Sheba.

Of course it doesn't take a PhD in anthropology to explain this. She was Queen in this environment, just like the least loser-ish of the meth guys was the King. I can only imagine what it must be like to be one of those guys... they would have all given their left nut to sleep with that girl. A girl that I wouldn't even notice on the train in Manhattan let alone at a fancy party. Hell, I wouldn't even notice that girl in a small town in fucking Peru. Big cities always have more hotties (duh), but even small towns in poor places have their gems, because the girls aren't all fat walruses.

There's almost nothing sadder than a 22-year old with a cute face encased in a layer of ever-growing blubber. Thank god I'm headed back to the city where nailing pussy doesn't involve spelunking through folds of fat with a headlamp strapped to your forehead; then on to points south where everything's just sweeter, girls included.

Maybe someday I will go back to that little town in New England as an old man — young wife and young mistress in tow — and build a house. In the summer I'll ride motorcycles on the winding roads, and in the winter I'll read Yukio Mishima by the fire, and I'll die at 80, in flagrante delecta, of course.


  1. Don't even think of marriage. Do you really want to lose your freedom, money and balls? Unless you marry a foreign bride outside of the US and stay there... marriage is a hopeless and boring affair. I relate to this story a lot, since I like to travel too and come from an international background. Nothing beats making chuncky bitter American women jealous by showing off your well dressed skinny foreign girlfriend or bringing down their grossly inflated self-esteem by not paying attention.

  2. Anonymous said:

    "Nothing beats making chuncky bitter American women jealous by showing off your well dressed skinny foreign girlfriend or bringing down their grossly inflated self-esteem'

    It's highly amusing to see that impotent, searing jealousy and rage in their eyes. All their lives they are told that whatever they think, do, say, or eat, they are always right. Feminists tell us that "the media" pressures girls into having low self-esteem. But actually they have low self-esteem because they have never learned discipline, and live by the concept that whatever their little whims are, they should follow them regardless of respect for family or community. "Inflated" is definitely the right word, because it rests on falsehoods and not integrity.

    Then they see a real woman, and how much men love real women, and it's crushing.

  3. This story reminds me of my small hometown in Texas. Within the past 8 years, once robust farmboys have debilitated into walking skeletons from meth addiction. if the women aren't skinny from the same affliction, they're morbidly obese from lack of quality outdoor activity.

  4. Chuck:

    Wow... how much more depressing when it's your own home town. I'm sorry to hear that, man.

  5. you see this in bigger cities to, at each bar. the girl that knows she's hotter than most of the girls in attendance, the girl who knows she's queen of her little coterie...and that night, when she's lying alone in her bed, wondering if her ex is banging some slag he met downtown, the tears build in her eyes, the mascara runs, she wants a man's hand to flick that bean....and all the facade from the hours spent downtown...come crashing down...and she faces the void we all share.

  6. Mishima rulez!

    He's one of my favorite gays!

  7. High Fructose Corn Syrup, too much carbohydrates, not enough excercise. Thats why they are porkers.

    I dont feel much (any) sympathy for the porkers though. Even if you eat a LOUSY diet, if you spend half-an-hour a day walking, you probably wont get fat.

    The reason these gals are fat is EXTREME laziness. Yeah, they go do their office jobs, or cut hair, or manicure, or work as salesgirls, or cash-register girls, but when they come home..............its TV, Cheetos, and Coke.

    I feel no sympathy for a fat guy who complains he isn't getting dates with pretty women either. Everybody knows what a gym is. Everybody knows how to walk, jog, bike, swim, and do sit-ups. Excercise books, YouTube vids, fitness magazines are all around us. There is NO excuse to be a whale unless you want to be one.

    Many modern women are monumentally lazy when it comes to excercise. What really pisses me off about it, is that if they LOVED the man in their life and WANTED to PLEASE him, they'd hit that treadmill daily just for him. He works and slaves to keep them in the house, and to provide for them and they pay him back with cellulite. God-damned-good-for-nothing-fat-assed-whores. They should be shamed at every opportunity.

    I say we should start pointing it out to them via anonymous little post-it-notes placed on their cars with wicked little sentiments like such: "You know its a shame you still have that cute face, but are getting to be so fat. If you worked out and took walks everyday and lost 30 lbs, you could have a good-looking-employed man worth having to have a family and happiness with, but by being a pig, you'll get stuck with a meth-addicted, scrawny loser............happiness is at your feet, put one foot in front of the other and start jogging half an hour a day, your prince charming awaits, LARDASS!"

  8. "Everybody knows what a gym is. Everybody knows how to walk, jog, bike, swim, and do sit-ups. Excercise books, YouTube vids, fitness magazines are all around us. There is NO excuse to be a whale unless you want to be one."

    Fuckin' A, dude. I spent some time in Cortland, a cow town in upstate New York recently, and everybody there was obese, overweight, or close to it. You could tell the difference between natives and tourists by looking at their waistlines. I wrote this on how society should handle the obesity epidemic:

    "And the 'mean girls in high school' have the right idea – we should shame the overweight at every opportunity because its the most effective way to get them to slim down and stop polluting our visages."

  9. HUNGRY HUNGRY HIPPOS YOAugust 5, 2009 at 4:26 AM

    Most people don't know how to workout or lose weight, probably less than 1% of the gym going population(much much less for women) has done a full squat or deadlift. And if you aren't doing those, you aren't training, end of story.

  10. Could be my hometown. Anyone worth a damn left at graduation. The only attractive women in town are underage.

    Then they see a real woman, and how much men love real women, and it's crushing.

    The truth hurts but it helps too once you admit it ladies.

  11. "Then they see a real woman, and how much men love real women, and it's crushing."

    Bingo. Ditto to the comments above about people, their weight and the discipline necessary to maintain some semblance of attractiveness.

    I'll leave the beta males to the angry, overweight feminist she-males desperate for a delusion-based 'relationship' with an emasculated male.

    There's simply too many opportunities out there for a decent, real relationship witha a feminine woman. Mostly overseas though there are a few gems here and there for the younger man. Older women? Not so much because of the baggage or the ravages of Father Time on many a lady's 'no-longer-attractive' post age 35 appearance.

  12. If you look through here which contains lots of images from the Depression (taken by WPA photographers including Dorothea Lange), you can see a big change.

    People are not fat. Yes, it's scarce food. But it's also that they walked, well pretty much everywhere and burned a LOT of calories just doing daily things, not much modern convenience. Things like vacuum cleaners, dishwashers, electric mixers, coffee grinders, gas stoves, and other things we take for granted (including hot water in showers and bathtubs) simply did not exist for many people.

    I've got family stories, handed down, of filling up the bathtub upstairs for bathing, in a rented place, with hot water from the stove. One bucket at a time. The stove coal fired of course. Iceboxes not refrigerators. Walking everywhere. No power tools or kitchen gadgets. Chopping wood. Standard stuff for families back in those days.

    You could easily eat gigantic breakfasts and dinners and burn up during the day, 4K calories or so. Doing hard work in mines, factories, or kitchens/restaurants. Nothing was easy. I don't blame corn syrup. I blame modern convenience.

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