Wide Berth for Girth

I admit that when I walk down the aisle of an airplane, my hips bounce from side to side - much to the chagrin of the occupants of the aisle seats.

I believe this to be preferable to a crotch/ass dance down the narrow strip of lit runway by navigating sideways.

So while I understand the grimaces and snorts of disgust in this environment, I am dumbfounded by the double wide detour taken by non-fats who pass me in a hallway of the size found at local shopping malls or other high capacity facilities.

How much room do non-fats think I need?

Until my ass begins beeping when I back up or I become the size of a heavy hauler like those found in the Fort McMurray tarsands, the all clear-steer clear isn't necessary.

So why the added room?

Is it fear?

Are non-fats paralyzed by the possibility that, like the common cold, fat can be caught by contact? That given a chance, fat longs to escape onto greener, untested pasture in search of another willing host?

Non-fats, remain calm.

Unlike the rhinovirus, fat can't be caught because, believe me, if it were easily lost this way, you would find me at crowded gatherings everywhere.

Discovering you are a towel hog

If admission is the first step in any twelve step program then I must admit that I am a towel hog.

I used to think that my immediate call to room service, upon entering a hotel room, was merely an acknowledgement that the two bath towel allotment, for a double room, was inadequate for a family of four.

What I have since discovered, to my horror during a recent girls only spa experience, is that I, like John Candy in Planes, Trains and Automobiles, will utilize every available towel leaving my roommate a single scratchy face cloth to dry off with.

Calling not once, but twice, during our first evening confirmed my girlfriend's suspicision that I am a towel hog.

So to all those who baulk at the suggestion of a two towel limit at their local fitness facility, join with me in celebrating your inner hogdom.