I was at Little Loca’s* birthday dinner (the big quarter-century – honestly mystified that we’ve managed to survive to meet this benchmark with all our organs in relative working condition) sitting next to the Urban Dictionary-definition of a ‘stupid-hot’ [/ˈstjuːpɪd/·/hɒt/] human being (’Twas borderline offensive, really. Why was he even there, if not to silently mock us mediocre-looking plebs with his stupid-hot face? Then again, I flatter myself; beautiful people care not for the suffering of the ‘solid-4-with-the-right-Instagram-filter’). He was talking to me about how his newborn niece (for whom he will be flying home to see) was born—and I quote—a “monster” at 9 lbs 6 0z.
“I mean, her dad’s a big guy at 6’5, and my sister is 5’8, so, pretty tall for a girl. I just think she’s gonna be a big girl.”
“I’ll have you know that I was a fat ass too when I was a baby. My rolls had rolls.” Standin’ up for my big-boneded ladies.
“Oh, okay good. I was a little worried that she’d turn out big but that’s actually reassuring that you said that.”
* Why she thinks she’ll ever have a political career after how many times we’ve been publicly actin’ a fool together is mind-bottling