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Loco Parentis: Living Large
By Sandy Hingston
The funny thing is, I loved the guess-your-weight man. Every summer, I couldn’t wait to hand him my quarter. Because the guess-your-weight man always, always guessed that I weighed less than I did. Whether the guy was just lousy at his job or felt pity for a miserable fat girl, I’ll never know. But when the scale rang up 12 or 15 pounds more than his guess, just for that moment, I was proud of my size.
Football is Jake’s guess-your-weight man. For now, he’s delighted with his listing in the program — biggest on the team! He pays in suicide runs and bench-lifts and bruising tackles for this respite from a fat-loathing world. Who knows how long it will last? Through college, if he’s lucky. More than two minutes on the Wildwood Boardwalk, at least. Thirty, 40 years from now, he’ll be able to look back on a time when his massiveness was a plus, a blessing, cause for celebration. It’s something Marcy never will be able to do.
I hope she has sons someday. I hope they’re big, too. I hope she gets the chance to revel in what otherwise has been a curse for her. It doesn’t make up for society’s scorn, not completely. But it’s oddly, beautifully empowering, just the same.
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