One day, my mum came to collect me from school. As she walked me through the playground to our car, I saw an extremely obese woman screaming at her two children - kids who happened to be arseholes - while she attempted to herd them up into a clapped-out old banger.

At 6 or 7 years of age, I could do nothing but stop and stare, marvelling at how this huge round mountain on legs could move. It was the fattest person I had ever seen, fatter than my grandad, who I used to affectionately call, 'Fat Grandad'. In fact, 'Fat Grandad' was made to appear positively anorexic. I can't explain why I had been so fascinated with this extreme fatness, although maybe it had something to do with me having been an extremely skinny little kid. I have no idea whether extremely obese people similarly marvelled at my extreme skinniness, but really I didn't care. All I was interested in was this extremely obese lady.

I remember my mum, having noticed that I was staring at this woman mountain, immediately oops-upped my head with the back of her hand! But rather than cry, like I'd normally do, if I got hit for no reason or didn't get my own way, I just turned round and asked her, "Do you see that really fat woman????!!!!" The post-oops-up emotion in my voice probably betrayed each and everyone of those exclamation and question marks. But my mum wasn't taken. And I was confused by this. My concept of gravity at that young age was non-existent, but I could certainly feel the unforgiving pull that this extrememly obese woman had on my (otherwise very retarded) attention span.

"Why don't you see the really fat woman?" I probably asked.

"Tomorrow, you will appologise to her for what you have said!" she certainly replied.



This response really freaked me out. I tried to defend my situation by claiming that all I did was look at her, but she was having none of it. I remember after arriving home, spending much of the evening appologising to my mum, sucking up to her. She eventually made me understand that my reaction, the staring, the marvelling, the verbal commentry, was all wrong. And I was allowed to have my dessert To be honest, while eating my dessert - and I remember it was apple crumble with custard - I contemplated how many of these it would take for me to become an extremely obese man mountain, whether in fact I, or anyone else for that matter, could become fatter than the woman I had seen earlier that evening. Ofcourse I kept these thoughts to myself. The apple crumble was just too good to miss out on

The next day was a new day at school. Indeed, a new day of new lessons. And like much of my time at school, the previous days lessons had been completely forgotten about. I did however remember how wonderful my mums apple crumble was, and that any mention of, or staring at mountain women could endanger this one rare pleasure I had in life. After school, like usual, my mum was there to collect me. She found me talking with a bunch of other kids, a few of which were sons of that woman, although this hadn't clicked at all. I remember when it did click though, after turning, and finding myself nose to crotch flab-roll with someone whom I could see nothing else of at this close range.

I immediately knew who it was, and immediately stepped back a few paces not only so that I could breathe, but so that I could see the face behind my intrigue.

And then it happened.

"My mum told me to say sorry for calling you fat and for staring at you."

And then it happened again.

"Ah, Marc, there you are!" Enter my mum, stage right.

I don't remember what was discussed between my mum and the large lady, although I do recall an un-intelligeable dialect being used between them, that my mum was very distressed during their conversation, and that during this time she was holding my arm up and shaking me as if I'd done something wrong. But these memories pale in relation to the fear I remember having after woman mountain physically lunged at my mum. I also remember feeling an extreme sense of importance. Or significance.

Apparently - after being reminded of this story some 24 years later during a recent phone call with my mum - what was being discussed at that time was the issue of who really was to blame on that fatefull day. I now know that my mum was valiantly attempting to defend herself from an increasing violent, extremely obese woman who had accused my mum of sending me over to land insults on her behalf.

Apparently, at that time, my mum was blaming me for the whole thing

This new revelation instantaneously explains my recollection of my mums sheepish behaviour after this whole incident. Ofcourse I forgive her for this whole thing, because if she had been squashed by an extremely obese woman mountain, I'd never had had anymore apple crumble, and to this day, whenever I see an extremely obese person, I no longer point, and my jaw no longer falls to the ground. I'm simply reminded of apple crumble. With lots of custard


Tell me about your silliest faux pas

Can i phone a friend?

Taureau said:

and now you have a strange fetish for it?

some google pic for you

Christopher said:

Apple crumble!

ella731 said:

That is perfection on a plate. Well, near perfection! Needs a large dose of custard





Hey, I hope I haven't offended anyone with my story. I was only young at the time