But I Don't have a Beard or a War Hammer

So, I was talking to a colleague the other day, and he said that his secretary had asked him what I look like. I usually describe myself as the big, fat, ugly guy. Though this description does enable people to find me, some people will say I am too hard on myself and the like. This has two implications. One, that I do not own a mirror or have not noticed or something. Two, that I place as heavy and emphasis on physical attractiveness as the rest of the people on this giant marble we live on and have chosen to do nothing about it. Other people walk up to me and tell me “Gee, you’re fat.” Presumably these people are under the impression that making fun of people for being larger than they are is a good idea. The last time it happened was a little over a year ago. My response was to say “Yes, I am.” And then when he made another comment, I said “Mean too.”

My colleague said to his secretary, “He’s a big Viking lookin’, mofo.” Which I suppose is sort of true. I will say this: despite the protests that I am too hard on myself -- ask me how smart I am sometime, and we’ll find out how unjustifiably healthy my ego is, by the way – my description has never failed to allow anyone to identify me. However, I will justify my description a little. People who do not know me are scared of me. Based entirely on my physical appearance. I have paralyzed small children. Literally. When we did a haunted house in college, I wore green make up and stood there. There were other monsters, but giving me green makeup I like giving brass knuckles to Superman. While children ran pat the other monsters screaming. They stopped at me, utterly paralyzed. One looked like he was going to wet himself until I broke character and told him to relax. I was told I should probably take the day off. Yes, I was fired from a Haunted House for being too scary.

Lest I attributed this incident to the costume, God decided to take steps. I was walking home from class one day and students from the local preschool crossed my path. They stood paralyzed and one of them looked like he was about the wet himself. And then another kid tried to kill me and steal my golden-egg-laying goose. See, giants are well-known monsters. When I was in high school, my friend Betsy Peterson used to run into me. I mean, literally, walk into me. She I was like a wall and she did not notice me. I used to arrive at school somewhat earlier than most people, and the principal told me I should try to avoid walking around the school because I was scaring the cleaning staff. He told me larger people had to me more sensitive to how other people react to their size. See, we have a word for people who frighten other people because of their appearance. The word is “ugly.” People say to me, “That’s just because you are bigger.” Yes, but when did size stop being part of one’s physical appearance.

o, I get it already. I’m a big guy. Over 6’3”. Over 250. Way over. I get mistaken for a wall. Seriously, it is the only way I can explain it. People keep running into to me and backing into me and leaning on me. It’s starting to make me wonder if I even exist in an odd ways.

I remember playing soccer in college. A little Pakistani guy ran into me at full speed and promptly rebounded off me to the ground. I’m not entirely certain what he thought was going to happen. I was 6’6” 300 pounds at that point. He was apparently in some sort of denial about my sheer size. Perhaps he did not believe it. He thought he was seeing something unreal.

Friends who have not seen me in awhile still ask me how tall I am. Chris Maka had not seen me in a few years and said “I forgot how goddam huge you are.” My friend Sara said “How are tall are you?” because I dwarfed her new boyfriend. Still the same size. It’s bizarre. Also, what is that? How tall are you? What difference does that make? I ask because I seem to have reached some level where I am too big to be a person. Instead, I am a building. That’s the only explanation I have. Except people still bump into me. Since people do not walk into walls, generally, I have come to a conclusion. Walls are invisible except as a sort of sensory boundary. People take note of the walls when they walk into the building and then ignore them because the walls will not move. I do move. Thus when people walk into a room, they take note of my massive size, identify me as a wall, and then take no further conscious notice of me. I then move, and they walk into me.

Or maybe I am just a natural ninja. Despite my enormous 6’6” four hundred pound size, I move with such stealth and grace that people simply do not notice. This seems unlikely to me. But I do have a working theory. People are blind and deaf.

In any event, I do have a suggestion for the next person who calls me fat: come with me to the gym, where I am six days a week. If you can keep up with my workout, fine. If not, shut your damned mouth.