Fat cow makes a mess and I say something Y'day I was returning home from morning yoga sculpt session, which appropriately makes me feel both exhausted and empowered.  (Hello I've graduated up to bigger hand weights and the 75 minute class on Sundays!)  So basically I feel great and energized but spent.  Its nice.  I've already showered though so at least I'm not dripping sweat in icy cold weather.  And who is occupying the middle section seat of the Metro train with me but ms princess fat ham planet herself.  This blonde behemoth looked to be only a few years older than yours truly so I feel no pity for her at all, only contempt.   Normally I would simply look down my nose at this creature, turn my backside around, and do calf raises or some other subtle shitlording exercise which won't make a huge scene.  But in this case ms. piggy was plowing through a large cannoli or some other cheese, meat and sauce filled baked item.  All I could do was stare and glare as this creature filled her body cavity with more cottage cheese and cellulite forming fat.  The only break occurred as she would stop to take short breaths through her wide open mouth.  Once the beast had a small amount of oxygen it would take another bite and chew its food open mouthed and loudly and then swallow air and attempt to breathe again.  This is totally not allowed on the Metro.  Read the signs piggy!  No food allowed on Metro train.   And then it happened.  A good chunk of her fat food dislodged and plopped into her lap.  She took no precautions to clean it and allowed some mix of tomato and parmesan cheese to fall off her and onto the floor.  This is too much for me. "That's why they don't want you to bring food on the train.  Accidents happen." "Its only a little bit.  Give me a break." "Its going to smell. You should clean it up." To which I receive a look of befuddlement. "You should clean it up." Now I receive a glare.  And then a stupid fat face and brief tongue pointed at me, like some child. I give her my best steely jawed anger stare (Bitch, I'm strong enough to plant my foot into your fat cow stomach and make you puke, but I don't want to risk getting cannoli stains on my $100 yoga pants.) "You. FAT. Cow."  I turn my back and walk to the front of the train. I sense anger, fear and loathing directed at me.  I'm anxious.  I don't want this to escalate.  This must be what fight or flight feels like.  I've chosen flight, walk away, don't escalate.  I'm dreading the next 4 minutes of my life...and then a savior steps in.  Old man sitting across from the planet says to her "You really should clean it up.  Nor fair to others." Thank you old man.  Thank you.  I'm not alone.  I can relax a little bit.  I get off at my exit and whisk up the steps home and I've rarely felt more alive.