A to Z Honesty - C is for Cathy

When I was in Grade Nine, back in the days when platform-shoe-wearing dinosaurs roamed the earth, there were five Cathys in my gym class. Obviously a popular name in 1960, when I was hatched. The Tiffany of its time.

Imagine a whole gymnasium filled with Cathys, flabbily running around sweating up the joint whilst colouring the landscape with their gym rompers. Remember gym rompers? Even the cutest girls in school looked terrible in gym rompers. It was those puffy elasticized bottoms, squeezing into the equally puffy flesh of the top of the thigh, showing off every fish-belly-white nuance of pudge as it jiggled through its gymnastics-basketball-field hockey heroin-like haze. And if the cutest girls looked rancid in those rompers, imagine how the rest of us dorky shiner niners looked. I tell ya, it was like Blue Suicide just waiting to happen.

Anyway, we all had to have our names embroidered on the back of our rompers. It Was A Rule. And I remember thinking, back then, because I would think of anything to take my mind off the horrors of gym class (reminds me of the woodsplitter - gak), that if your name was Kathy with a K, you were inclined to be slender and, if you were Cathy with a C, you were inclined the other way. Which was porkified.

I developed a theory about this. Notice the letter C. All round, like a pregnant belly, or a coffee cup. I believe its natural shape holds all the fat in. Notice the letter K - there is no bottom to the letter. All the fat just falls out.

Think about all the Cathys or Kathys you know. Who are the fatties? Huh? Huh?

I know. You are blown away by my brilliance. I should win a Nobel prize for this.

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By the way, C is for Cathy is also today's A to Z theme for Denise Covey, my dear Aussie colleague who has generously featured me on her blog today. Big hugs your way, Denise dahling! Thank you so much! You can check out her feature here.