Okay, so Robert and I just took a quick jaunt over to Bank of America so I could get some cash. As we’re walking back to the Alley, a sketchy guy on a bicycle (who’s been circling the area since we walked into the bank) approaches the two businessmen who are walking in front of us. He says a few words; they aren’t interested. He circles toward me and Robert like a shark on crack.

Since I know I’m not going to give this guy any money, I see no reason to let him tell me his bullshit story about the $13.82 he needs for a new air filter so he can drive back to Tennessee to see his kids or the 57 cents he needs for the bus or the $1.29 he needs to buy some crack. Ooops. Anyway, I didn’t let him get past about three words. I told him, “No, man, not gonna happen” and kept walking. I didn’t take away his dignity or look down my nose at him. I just let him know there was no need to go further. As Robert and I walked on, the beggar said, “Fat ass.”

Well, Robert is not a large fella, so there’s not much of a question this little nugget was directed at me. That, and I do have a fat ass. I prefer “big ass” because it sounds more attractive (to some people – I realize there’s a big trade in women who have the bodies of pre-pubescent 12-year-old-boys). Anyway, I responded, “Yeah, I have LOTS to eat at home.” He rode away. Not sure if he got the subtext or not.

So we get back to the Alley and I try telling this story, which I think is hilarious, to a few coworkers. They can’t get beyond the fat ass thing and mistakenly think I need some soothing. They didn’t get it – to have a begging jackass on a rusty bike calling you a fat ass because you won’t do the dance is just ridiculous. He thought I gave a shit about his opinion, and he tried hurting my feelings. Thing is, I know my ass is big. I wash it every day. It doesn’t hurt my feelings for someone to point it out. Might as well have said “you have brown hair” or “your eyes are kinda green.” It’s just part of who I am. And I love me, so fuck it.

The only way he could have hurt my feelings would have been if he said I was a bad writer.

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