Till the Fat Lady Sings


I was just coming out of the men’s room in the San Francisco airport when she waddled toward me. Her two hundred and fifty plus pounds was distributed over her short frame in way that made her appear nearly round, but her loosely draped, dappled paisley silk lent a hint of elegance to her movement. All by herself she was a parade of mammoth and grotesque proportions

As she approached nearer I could see that her eyes were focused on something just in back of me. I turned to see a slim, classically handsome airline pilot, the man of her dreams, for a moment at least. Turning back I saw in her eyes a reflected image of a couple–the pilot and the slim woman she was a long time ago and is still in the sanctuary of her imagination.

What happened to cause her to hide her loveliness, her dream, within the impenetrable mountain of her flesh? What pain? What betrayal? What disappointment? What lost love left her so hungry?