Long Walks on the Beach and a Long John

She's fat... the kind of fat that makes her think twice before bending down to pick up dropped change.  Clinking change won't cut it. We are not supposed to talk about people being fat.  That's right!  We just say it behind their back.

Her face parallels that of a bulldog where the saggy lip gets hung up on the canine. Dentures would help provide some facial structure.  We would never say it, but if she were prettier we would deduct the social strikes of her obesity.  It's true.

She starts off most days with a couple of cream-filled Long Johns and a DP.  Why wouldn't she?  Food is one of the few consistent things in a world where, for some, life is a dull ache at best.  A Long John is sweet and creamy no matter who hit you last night or what jackpot you happened to land.  The Long John loves you unconditionally, so let her have her Long John.

I wonder if it these Long John moments and others like it that empower her to set her alarm each night.  I mean four kids, one with diabetes (she almost died) and a set of twins with a speech impediment so bad that you would think they were imported from Ukraine.  She is a single mom, a good one.  There is no husband.

But there is a man, one she calls the "Love of Her Life."  Although in reality, he's a bum.  He lets her work hard, back-breaking hard and he reaps all the benefits.  She kicked him out, but she'll call him back because they make each other laugh and his body warms an otherwise cold bed.  There's also the fathers of her kids.  Yes, I said fatherS.   One, the ex-husband turned ex-convict and the other... that's a good question.

When she talks, she would make you embarrassed for the South, the kind of person Good Morning America puts on TV for their random on location disaster site street interviews.  But any other circumstance, any other deck of cards, my life and she would be CEO of a Fortune 500.  She works harder for $12/hour than most millionaires do for their empires.  And The Company will keep her at $12/hour because they can.  They know they can.  And she'll keep working hard because the "Dat-a-girls" she gets for her efforts go down just as easily with a DP as do the cream-filled Long Johns.

Someone needs to grab her by the shoulders, look her straight in the eyes, and say, "You are valuable; you are precious; you are adored by the Maker; you are beautiful; you are strong; you are equal to all others; you are amazing!" Not because they should, not out of pity, not out of guilt, not out of a legalistic pull to be good, BUT because IT IS TRUE.