Fat Boy vs The Tiger
I Ain’t Your Average Grandma
Despite appearances to the contrary, I’m a bit of an oddball. Blame my mother. When I share with others what I’ve done in the past, eyebrows rise and I often get, “You did what?”, “You said that?”, or “You went where?” Yeah, I went, I did, I saw. It was me. I may look like a middle-aged goody two shoes with grandchildren, but don’t you doubt I have a checkered past. And yes, I’m proud of it — well, mostly. Life is for living and I’ve been very busy.
This little blurb goes under the heading, “Yes, I did say that.” It all started innocently enough when I found a Facebook group that sounded right up my alley. Someone had put together a group with Groucho Marx in its name so naturally I assumed it to be the perfect place for an outspoken, unfiltered, eclectic woman such as myself.
Some of the posts had me giggling so I joined in with a witty story about my recent trip to the zoo. Firstly, you need to know I’m not a fan of zoos — seeing animals in cages depresses me. But it so happens we live in a city with a well-maintained, modern zoo which, besides animals, offers many park areas, a butterfly enclosure, tropical plant atrium, and abundant, beautiful gardens.
At the time my story took place, my husband and I literally lived within walking distance of the zoo. There were evenings, when the wind was blowing in the right direction, we could hear the meows of the peacocks which had me fantasizing about exotic destinations.
So on a lovely summer afternoon, we took a stroll over to the zoo. To get to the gardens, we had to walk past the expansive enclosure for the tigers. What magnificent animals they are! It so happened that one of the tigers was walking the perimeter and had stopped in front of a particularly unattractive, obese pre-teen boy. This kid was making a pest of himself and taunting this grand beast all the while being egged on by his pimply, loser friend. The tiger was getting annoyed and there wasn’t a parent in sight to haul away this jiggling blob of bad manners. In my post, I may have mentioned that the tiger looked like it was licking its lips and wouldn’t it have been delightful if said tiger jumped the partition and dined on the brat? It was a joke (sort of)! And I know I definitely used the word “fat” and not in relation to the tiger.
Naturally, I envisioned throngs of bobbleheads nodding in agreement with my post and a big pat on the back for defending this beautiful animal. This kid was a king-size punk raised by someone or someones who definitely needed a course in parenting skills.
Surprise! The back-slapping I was expecting was instead replaced by kicks in the butt. What a nasty woman I was! A real vicious piece of work. What was I thinking? How dare I call this dear child “fat”? Why, he may have a glandular problem. Maybe his girth is inherited and the little darling had no say in his rotund appearance. I should be ashamed of myself, soundly reprimanded and kicked out of the group.
The only thing these women (and they were all women) had focused on in my post was the word “fat”. This was before the woke generation so I was unprepared for the verbal backlash. Really? This is what these folks got out of my post? Hadn’t I written it with wit? What about the tiger? After attempting to defend myself regarding this miserable little porker taunting one of God’s creatures, I gave up and quit the group. I lasted a day.
Should I have seen this child walking down the street, I would have had nothing to say about his size. I probably wouldn’t have even noticed him. But if you want to display disrespect and impudence towards one of God’s creatures in my presence, expect the worst I can throw at you no matter your status. The English language is my weapon of choice and nothing is off limits.
It appears I am the enemy of woke society. I’ll take that as a compliment. I expect kindness or else. I won’t back down and I’m just too old to be trained otherwise.
FEEL FREE to follow me on my journey of eternal youth! College student, travel consultant, blogger, author, and entrepreneur, all after my 50th birthday. Aging oh so slowly and living life on my terms — fearless, exciting, and eclectic — sans bubblewrap.
