I sit in the station restaurant. My train leaves in thirty minutes.
I order a coffee and look around. Only a few tables are occupied.
Next to me is a fat woman.
Unbelievable.
I rub my eyes.
A huge breasts is truth in it. A monster breasts.
This is the biggest breasts I have ever seen in my life.
I Never fixed on female breasts, but now I can not help it. Because it also takes just this particular shirt. Particularly in the case is an exceedingly polite informal term.
The T-shirt is Je suis le King of Pop.
Okay, I tell myself it is a Michael Jackson fan and I forgive her this, you probably can not French.
The new King of Pop is sitting next to a very overweight woman whose hair is cut very short. The two talk nothing but shoveling chocolate cake with whipped cream to himself.
At another table sits a little boy with thick, red cheeks, upper arms and a fat blonde.
His father, the very image of his son's stuffed, it Bundt cake into his mouth. When I look up
, another overweight woman comes into the restaurant. She is sweaty and totally out of Breath.
What on earth is going on today? Why is everyone so fat? Must be
globalization.
The woman is obviously American. I recognize their special sneakers, the likes of us would just take the high mountains to climb. She wears a plaid shirt, rolled up the sleeves and a short, beige pants with huge pockets. Protrudes from a pocket a half-full bottle of Coke. And she has
-suspenders! The first braces wearer, I see!
braces, I only know of nice old grandpa with Schnürlsamthosen to chop wood and constantly aufschlichten. My father also has braces - for its leather.
Incredibly, this sight. Red braces, which are covered on each side of her breasts.
While she walks past me, she looks at me disapprovingly.
What? May I not look at you? May I not sit here and drink my coffee? No, because of you I do not look so horrified. I look always so.
A twenty year old coming out of the toilet.
on her pink T-shirt reads: I am pretty . The whole T-shirt full of pretty, pretty, pretty . In all colors and fonts.
The problem - it is not pretty. It has twenty pounds too much. The T-shirt is too tight and too short, the belly swells out of his pants. Hips to be unloaded, blond hair to black, specking too coarse to face and skin. I'm short
distracted and think.
What message would be on my T-shirt? I have no idea.
I look at my clock. Time to go. I pay and leave the restaurant.
On leaving, I saw him.
the appropriate sentence. For
's T-shirt. I apologize for staring at you.
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