subject: I'm Almost Trampled By A Herd Of Cellulite [print this page] I was invited to a beach shindig over the 4th of July and since it involved nothing on my part except showing up, I decided to give it a go. Normally, I do go somewhere for the 4th, but it's usually to small affairs, usually a dozen, or less. This go-go was a much bigger affair, involving at least a couple of hundred, loud music and tons of food and suds.
I found a relatively quiet spot, had a bit of Thai flavored grill chicken (delicious) and some real lemonade, which was being made, as you ordered. That was a treat and I'd have to go back four decades to tell you about the last time I saw that.
About an hour into the hoodang...as I was watching a stunning blonde in an itty bitty bikini...some big girls arrived...and I mean big...the smallest one weighing in around 220...give or take a jiggle. The leaders of the pack had to go 3 bills plus...I mean you wouldn't want one them to sit on you...that's for sure.
Not only were these chicks big, they were covered with tattoos. And whoever the tattoo artist was...well, let's just say he wasn't Vincent Van Gogh, or even Elmer Van Gogh, 4th cousin, once removed on his wife's side. This judgment was made even after I had given him points for having to ink over the many cellulite craters.
One of the girls had a complete Indian headdress inked on her back that would have sent many a brave chief galloping for the hills, as fast as his war horse could take him. Another had a skull with flaming eyes that started on her thighs and thank God the rest of it was hidden.
The group advanced on the grill like a pack of lions would have attacked a Las Vegas buffet and they didn't disappoint, stacking food a couple of feet high. They took over an area about thirty feet from where I was planted and if there had been dogs there, they would have thought they were in heaven.
A couple of young guys sat down at my table and explained to me that what I was witnessing was a group of WPFL players (Women's Professional Football League). I didn't even know there was such a thing, but apparently there is and they play in full pads, just like the men. They don't make much money, a couple of C notes a game, but they do get a lot of food and suds invites, because they can be entertaining.
Now what my young friends explained to me was that there was always some guy, or group of guys, willing to tell the girls that they were big, but in as derogatory a way as possible. This quite often led to a fracas, where the girls most often acquited themselves quite well and the audience ate it up. Or as they described it, better than WWE by a factor of 10. They related one story where a real NFL lineman had to be pulled out of the fray, because he was in real danger of
getting his tucchus kicked by a couple of the girls.
I can't imagine a locker room where that would have been a good thing.
I'm going to give the girls the same advice I gave a ballplayer or two, years ago. That extra weight may be a temporary advantage, but in the long run, it has to come off, or you're going to face a never -ending medical battle that you just can't win. And women carry more fat than men, which is going to make it that much worse.
Quite a number of former NFL players have died unexpectedly, in the last few years, primarily because they were too big. In 99% of all cases, the human body is just not designed to carry that much weight and they paid the price, their hearts blowing out like a truck tire that's hit a railroad spike.
You have to admire a group of gals that love football so much that they'll play for a couple of hundred bucks a game. It reminds me of Hall of Fame NFL players, who had to work second jobs in the off season to put food on the table. But you could play just as well if
you were considerably lighter (and healthier).
I know this will probably fall on deaf ears, but just maybe someone will get through to them. Nobody could use my Powerhouse Omega Formula more. But athletes always think they're invincible and so, it's a very hard sell.
After a couple of hours, there were no fireworks, and no fracas ensued. I decided to call it a night and my young friends were a little disappointed that they didn't get to witness any beatdowns.
Being older and wiser, I was just glad nobody had to be stitched up.
