Monday, October 25, 2004


Today the American Mastodon had the good fortune of possessing a decidedly small appetite. When this occurs, his MO is to grab a fruit juice from the downstairs cafeteria and make his way over to the local outdoor shopping mall. In Los Angeles, where the sun shines 24 hours a day and the streets are lined with Skittles and dandelions, all malls are out of doors. All are accessible.

While he was there, perusing the local bookstore and peeking his head inside the always reliable men's fashion store "Banana Republic", he saw a woman that caught his eye. Unlike the Starbucks woman whose sheer perfection (save one small caveat, as you know) made the AM's head spin and tie loosen, this woman was tall, gangly, and uncoordinated. There is something about a woman who's arms and legs are too long for her body that appeals to the American Mastodon. Don't get him wrong; he doesn't seek out deformed women or prefer ladies to have humpbacks or goiters, nor does he like his women "irregular" - a leg slightly shorter than the other, a hand with small fingers and a bulbous wrist. Granted, these afflictions would all produce a somewhat "gangly, uncoordinated" woman. That is not what the AM is trying to describe, and he apologizes if in your mind this is the image that has been conjured.

No, the American Mastodon simply means a woman who is largely perfect in every way. Where this woman is deficient is in regards to the proportional size of her limbs, and the ease with which she uses them. There is something about a woman whose legs and arms, and occassionally fingers, are longer than intended. The resulting gait, the loping arms, the over-dexterity of fingers buttoning buttons or holding a fork - these are qualities that the AM notices and appreciates. While others may prefer to call these characteristics "deficiences", the AM sees something else - a hint of insecurity, a childish lack of familiarity with one's body, the cute and charming image of a woman tripping for no reason, then steadying herself with her purse.

For you see, like the nurse who wipes a tear from the cheek of a hungry babe; like the shepherd who would walk to ends of the earth to find a lost sheep in the woods; like a benevolent God whose ear is turned always to the voice of the poor and hopeful; the AM, too, loves women of all shapes and sizes, and wishes them happiness and comfort.


T.S. Farmhand said...




Truth be told, a gangly girl is a category unto which T.S. has never had much of an appreciative streak. Well, hold on. There was that time "Beanstalk" Betty met me under the bleachers and blew my mind, back when I was a bit less discriminating and a whole lot more . . . excitable.

But as a wise, miniature man once said:

Now, the world don't move to the beat of just one drum,
What might be right for you, may not be right for some.
A man is born, he's a man of means.
Then along come two, they got nothing but their jeans.

But they got, Diff'rent Strokes.
It takes, Diff'rent Strokes.
It takes, Diff'rent Strokes to move the world.

King Koopa said...

If only Banana Republic had been playing Outkast's "SpottieOttieDopalicious", when you walked in there...

When I first met my SpottieOttieDopalicious angel/ I can remember that damn thing like yesterday/ The way she moved reminded me of a Brown Stallion horse with skates on/ Smoove like a hot comb on nappy ass hair