Saturday, April 07, 2018

Fat king great

I was on my man trike—the BYB—on a weekday afternoon ride when my path intersected with with another on which were three groups of kindy kids in red shirts. There were twenty to a group with teachers in the gaps. For no reason other than sheer enthusiasm they started waving at me as I waited for their pilgrimage to clear.

It was too socially awkward not to wave back but they weren't moving at speed and I caught them at the start of their parade. I waved the entire time and got apologetic thank-you nods from the teachers that were with each group. 

Halfway through I started waving like our current queen, a light hand twist that wasn't too irksome and felt majestic. For they were too young to revile me for being fat and just decided I was worth waving at.

So I felt like a fat king and I felt great.

Then I sped off into the afternoon sun.

Royalty, I get the buzz. I was, after-all, the queen of my high school class's last swimming carnival. 

I got overthrown into the pool.

No comments:

Post a Comment

No comments needed, really.

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.