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| "AMERICA'S FUNNIEST HUMOR"TM
SHOWCASE
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February
/ March 2007 Contest Results |
The Fat Fairy
Strikes Again
By
Joanne Palmer, Colorado
The Fat Fairy flew in last night.
She flits into my bedroom, sparkly wings creating the tiniest breeze.
She wore a rhinestone-encrusted cape, pink tights and a tiara. She got
right to work, pat-patting a new layer of fat onto my thighs. She never
stops to talk. She’s too busy (it’s rumored she visits thousands of
women a night.) If she ever did stop, I’d have a few questions for her:
1. Why me? Don’t you have an enemy? Someone who stole your high school
boyfriend? Cut you off in traffic last night? Infected your laptop with
a virus?
2. Why my thighs? Can you please pick another body part? How about my
big toe? An oversized big toe is fine. Or put a glob of fat on my ankle.
Perfect. I’ll wear socks. Earlobe fat, hair fat, elbow fat all fine, but
no; she always flings her fat on my thighs.
3. How did you get your job? Was it posted on craigslist.com?
Wanted: one tiny woman able to fly while carrying a large bucket of fat.
Must work nights. Must be able to ignore the sound of wailing women.
I imagine her in the interview, speaking in her little breathless voice
“Yes, Fairy Devil-Mother, I feel my experience as CEO of LAR-DOUGH, Inc.
is transferable and I’ll be able to make an immediate contribution to
your organization.”
It’s not hard to tell when the Fat Fairy has visited. As soon as I look
in the mirror I know she’s been here. Overnight my body has morphed
into, well, ergh…. Shamu. My feet are still there, ankles fine, shapely
calves, kneecaps intact but my thighs look like chipmunk cheeks, happily
bulging with the pint of Double Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream that
I’d slurped the night before.
The Fat Fairy does not travel alone. Like Thelma and Louise, Lucy and
Ethel, the Fat Fairy has a partner in crime. She is the Dimple Diva (D.D.)
D.D. carries a bucket filled with a suspicious, smelly substance and a
miniature garden trowel. Her goal is to make sure my thighs look like
they sustained major hail damage.
The frequent visits of the Fat Fairy and D.D. have had a severe impact
on the size of my wardrobe. I have eight pairs of jeans. They are:
The Wistful Collection -Three pairs I used to fit into, but can’t throw
out because I may be able to get into them again. These live in the
darkest region of my closet.
The Stand-Up At Parties Collection - One pair I can’t sit down in, or
breathe in. Gives me a healthy flushed look.
The Home Improvement Collection - One ripped pair full of holes and
hanging threads. Perfect for stripping wallpaper or doing a wash and wax
job on the car.
The Height of Fashion Collection - Same as the Home Improvement pair.
The Whoa Nelly Collection - One oversized pair of jeans I wouldn’t be
caught dead in because I’m not really that size.
The When Are You Gonna Give Me A Rest Collection - One pair of L.L. Bean
HAS IT! Stretch Jeans. Wear on a daily basis. These never make it into
the closet. If I’m not wearing them, they can be found draped over the
back of a chair, in the laundry basket or balled up on the floor.
Now that I only fit into one pair of jeans, I’m going on the offensive.
I’ve declared the airspace over my bed a “No Fairy Fly Zone.” I’m
sleeping with my son’s Airsoft BB Gun and I’m not afraid to use it.
The battle of the bulge has begun.
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