Well, I guess you guys have opened the new Aquatic Center by now. I'm on an Alaskan cruise, the guest of my generous, but vigorous, family, and won't be back until June 5, 2005. I've been giving considerable thought as to how best to use our wonderful new pool/recreation facility. When I return, I will propose that we full-figured folks, the people who weigh more than 200 lbs., before we get wet, be given a time to enjoy the place, privately, at least three times a week, for, say, an hour a day. Before you start complaining about our proposition for special treatment, remember that when my group launches, like the USS Missouri, into that great pool, there will be a number of laborsaving side effects. For example, there will be an immediate rush of cleansing chlorinated tidal overflows gratuitously washing the pool deck, a savings in manual dousing and cleaning time. I know reserving three hours a week sounds like a lot of dedicated time, just for us "marathon-challenged" table loungers, but one must consider that we won't need supervision, so the pool employees can do a lot of other things to keep the center in tip top shape, while we full-figured folks are doing our whale ballets, which I have personally choreographed. And as far as safety goes, no one will need to blow a whistle and shout, "NO RUNNING!" at us. When we get down into some place that requires us to crawl up a ladder to get out, we'll generally stay put. Fact is, we're not that inclined to get out even to go to the number one bathroom. That's why we have a buddy system, like the Boy Scouts at summer camp, except for a whole different reason. We full figured adults never leave a buddy standing alone in a swimming pool, even if he is pretending to be mesmerized by the imposing facade of the old shirt factory building. Heck, if one of our "Mysterious Members of the Diuretic Tribe" stands motionless in the pool for more than the briefest moment, one of our bladder coaches will be on him like a hound dog on a weenie. When the bladder boys shout, "Move it," it's much more than a double entendre. In fact, about the only way to get us out of a swimming hole, once we've been committed to the "deep," involves promises of food.

Did I mention that, as far as good moral behavior is concerned, you can count on us NOT to pair off in the corner, nose to nose, in some kind of grotesque fishy aquatic pre-tryst? My folks don't "do" nose to nose encounters, for obvious belly-structural reasons. Yeah, we'd make poor Eskimos, but we won't be schlepping around the pool looking for a little aquatic nose rubbing action. And you'll have no trouble with us and dress codes. Tight rubberized swim panties (what're they called, "Speedos?") and thrilling thong accessories aren't in our wardrobes, but we're big on oversized beach towels and outlandish straw hats! We fat folks, and there are a lot of us, know what we like, and what we would like this summer is to dawdle in a cool pool, buoyed off our flat feet for a few hours a week. Is that asking too much? Now I'm wondering, are there really more fat people (that's what "obese" means, boys) today than when we were in high school? I was thin then, perfectly proportioned, actually. Pat and Bud were thin. Phil was fat, and Curtis was fat and there were two fat "Baboos." And Sonny was fat and Bond was fat, and Pete was fat, but then there were all those Rives folks who were thin and wiry and tough, maybe from being eaten regularly by a hoard of blood sucking mosquitos, or maybe it was from chopping cotton in those old rock hard dried gumbo patties? I don't remember a single fat physique from what we grandees of the Grand Prairie called, "across the ditches?" It's no wonder so many folks from Rives and Sunrise went on to be quite successful. They learned, in advance of us, how to work, and to never give up. Maybe now, some of them are fat? If you were from Rives, or are presently living there, and are now fat, you may join our swim team. Fat means, to us, forty to eighty pounds over the average weight for your height, eighty pounds to the right of the bell-shaped curve is better, for our purposes.

Anyway, I don't think there's a current "epidemic" of obesity. That is, there is no rapid spread of fat making "germs" is our communities, and fat ain't "ketchin." Epidemic means the rapid spread of a contagious disease. Fat ain't cholera or leprosy! Fat is the result of a philosophy, not a disease. Speaking personally, "Hello, my name is Ken, and I am fat. I am the victim of the dread philosophy of Epicureans. It has been my wretched goal in life to eat as much of anything I like when I want it, and to live a life of pleasure and serenity, without those bothersome "drags," temperance and guilt." Whew! I feel so much better, now that I've got that off my, dare I say, "plate?"

Finally, I can't wait to get back to Kennett, get in the new Aquatic Center pool, and loll the afternoon away, without ever losing sight of Causbies' Bakery, now that's living!

Kenneth Kinchen is an independent writer with a background in international business and foreign service contracting.