Fat Ass

So, from now on, when I get called a name in public, I’m going to use it for the name of my blog post.  Today, in Kroger, that name was fat ass.

Why was I called and fat ass in Kroger? Who would have said such a thing? Well, to the best of my knowledge, I was called a fat ass because I was looking at cat litter. The culprit? A young-looking, possibly teenaged girl — about 5 foot 5 inches and between 100-115 pounds (this is what you after being a crime journalist…culprit description powers).

Anyway, the altercation — which really wasn’t one — went down like this: I was standing in Kroger looking at cat litter for my six cats. When you have six cats, you need a lot of cat litter, so price is very important. As I stood there looking, I heard from behind me, “You know, if you’d lose some weight, fat ass, you wouldn’t block the whole aisle.”  Not an “excuse me” or a “can I please get by.” No, this person decided to go straight to fat ass. Nice, huh?

Now, the question I’m sure you’re wondering — was I taking up the whole aisle? Of course not. I was standing close to the right side of the aisle as any shopper (and driver) knows to do. You stay in your own lane.

I don’t know if this girl was having a bad day, or if my ass generally bothered her, but either way, there it was. Of course, it’s nowhere near the first time I’ve been called fat ass. And I’m sure it won’t be the last…