A Retail Tale- How I Lost My Inability to Hold back My Inner Shitlord I work the clothing/retail department in a big-box store(think Walmart, though admittedly much better quality in everything we offer.) Unsurprisingly, this presents massive opportunity for encounters of the lard-dumpster-kin variety. Also bare in mind that I'm an incredible actress... You have to be to be good in customer service type jobs. And I'm damn good at customer service. I'm the worker that gets mentioned by name in surveys, that the regulars ask for even when I'm not there, etc. Enter Hamplanet McScootypuff. I see her multiple times a week, and only once out of her scootypuff because "she really needed some exercise". She lives next to our store by the way, she literally walked about a quarter of a mile maybe there and back. Also, when I say her scootypuff, I mean her scootypuff. As in, she owns it, and uses it to take her everywhere she goes. If it wasn't for her level of mass, I'd say she was at least half scootypuff at this point. But I digress.  She is definitely close, if not just over 400lbs. Odd frizzy hair that reaches down below her shoulder blades, and always worn in a low ponytail. It's an odd dirty blonde at the roots, and dyed black for the rest, which she has done in recent weeks to match mine. Arms that make Tess' look like she spends all of her free time in a gym lifting. Row of straight, yet mossy bottom teeth. Jagged, blackened, and with a few missing for the top row. It took me forever to realize why her smile was so odd until she finally smiled wide enough for me to realize(and puke in my mouth a little) why it seemed so off. Please remember that even though I stand at 5'3", I'm always looking down on her because she's always sitting. And the smell... Oh the smell. I live in Phoenix, city of the sun, and desert climate of often 122 degree days. Do you know what happens when you combine an inability to properly wash with yeasty buildup in a sweaty Fupa roll in that kind of heat? The things I've smelled... Now for me... 5'3", 110lbs, shoulder length black hair, wide brown eyes. I never thought much of myself, but one day as an older teen, I got hit on... And from there it never stopped. I suffered from ugly duckling syndrome, and never realized until late that I'm a "knock-out". Not sure if this is a reasonable means of measurement, but years ago in my Reddit days, I once posted multiple pics to r/AmiSexy out of curiosity, and scored multiple 8-9s. Comparing with the other posts at the time, it seemed others had been given fair ratings, so take that as you will. Now to the point of this tale. Hamplanet McScootypuff is obsessed with the idea that she and I be best friends. She has a tall, Lurch from The Addam's family-esque husband that hits on me when she isn't around. And an oddly squeaky, chipmunk-like guy who looks like if NASCAR was a drug, his mother damn near OD'd on it multiple times when she carried. Also constantly hits on me. Just the cream of the crop of white trash society, guys.  Now, I live in the same apartment complex as these upstanding folks, and trust me, that totally doesn't make me feel like killing myself, or that I'm a failure that needs to get back into college yesterday. Not at all. Well, when McScootypuff finds this out, you bet your sweet assets we just have to hang out soon, guys! So she asks my apartment number(gave her the wrong one), asks my building number(no where near correct), and asks what day I'm off. I can't afford to lose this job, so I just continually feed her wrong info, and tell her I'm just not very bright when she figures out its wrong, teehee. Can't afford hurting her feefees and having her complain. This is where the customer service actress in me comes out. So, she picks a day. I say something about probably not being there at that particular time, and she says oh, dear well we'll just have to plan it for another time. She doesn't want to make me uncomfortable waiting for me to get home by having my fiancé let her in, and waiting alone with him. I'll admit it guys, sometimes I'm kind of a dumbass. I couldn't fathom what she meant.  So I ask... Why would I care? She responds that most girls don't feel comfortable having another woman at home alone with their significant other. And it hits me... She meant she didn't want me thinking she and my fiancé might do something behind my back! I gaped. I look at her. I look down at myself. I look back at her. And I couldn't stop it, guys, it just came out. I laughed. This blob of flesh, this drain on taxpayer dollars, this muumuu wearing, blackened jag-toothed, halfway failed abortion of a sack of lard, this cesspool of fupa bacteria who considers walking a few feet every couple of months adequate exercise...She, in the most sincere fashion, thought that in any way, shape, or form that a guy who was with a girl like me(not that I think I'm the absolute bees knees, but I'm telling you, people obviously find me attractive)... This fucking subhuman, white trash, 400lb mayo-bag really truly thought my partner would ever cheat on me with it.  I lost it. I laughed. Loudly. And cruelly. There was no mistaking how hilariously preposterous I found the idea of it. And guys... It felt so good. And I played it off. Halfassedly, we both knew the truth of where I saw the humor. And she scooted away into the night. She still comes in and says hello, but won't look me in the eyes. And that is the tale of how I lost 400lbs in a single day. Fin.