Ginger Sasquatch of San Francisco This is a story mostly for my own benefit as I'm hungover and bored.  tl;dr at the end  I first saw Big Red my sophomore year of university. She was one of those adamantly “big boned” girls, towering over the rest of us at a husky ~5’11,” which no doubt, provided her a “muh guhnetiks” excuse. I remember watching her lumber away from the market with a meatball sub, diet coke, and hot cheetos; she couldn't have been more than lithe 280. I wasn't a shit-person at the time, and thought nothing of it, but now after two years the mythical beast resurfaced, and I witnessed the whole gluttonous spectacle.   She sat right across from me in the research common, and all I could initially see was her buttery glob of a head which was so red you couldn’t even make out her gingerfied freckles. She was all red and all but radiated toxicity; she looked like an apocalyptic red sun about to go supernova. And accompanying her was at least an extra 50 lbs; I stared on in disbelief. She was red and round and looked like that boil on my grandma pat's back.  She was sweating thick oily remnants of a deep fried something or two, and emanated a putrid stench similar to that of cave-dwelling ape, surviving on only rotten fish. Along with her au-natural body odor was the unmistakable smell of hot cheese and cooked meat: a cheesesteak from the aforementioned market. No question, they’re delicious: crispy bread, hot melty provolone, rib-eye with sautéed onions -- they'll put avocado on it too. (Sorry if I offend anyone by putting avocado on a cheesesteak -- I'm from california, we eat that shit with everything).  San Francisco, as you may know, is slightly hilly -- my San Francisco booty is my best booty. My school is situated on a gradual incline. It's the kind you don't all feel at first, but then you breathe a little heavier and realize that you're not walkin straight. I'm assuming that due to the grueling, slightly inclined walk from the market to the library caused such a spectacle of melting butter. I also assumed that after sitting for 45 minutes, finishing the cheesesteak, bottle of coke, and bag of hot cheetos, that the stench and sweat would chill out a little. But no. Of course not. All it did was fester and she just continually sweat. She even started fanning herself after sitting --- for a half an hour. But, oh! Just after an hour and a half, she got the Beetus call. She arose and left for about fifteen minutes, returning with a large sugar laden hibiscus blackberry whatever juice, and one ham and swiss croissant from Peet’s Coffee and Tea.  I realized that the continual sweat and wheezing was ready-made, full-frontal proof how hard her body was working to process all the fats, protein, and sugar she had consumed in a two short hours. Red, oily, and sweaty. Big Red's orange bangs were pressed down to her forehead by greasy paws attempting to wipe that sweat away. Big Red is gross. Big Red is what I fear of becoming. Big Red is who I openly scowl at in order to somehow, someway, convey what a horrifying, gluttonous lifestyle these obeasts INSIST on showing the rest of the world. I crunched my carrots and celery, and only hoped that she went home feeling gross, unfulfilled, and ashamed.  tl;dr fat ass ginger at my school is a fat ass who got fat assier