Couch Potato

COULD THIS BE YOU?

The girl sat on the chair. A normal act you might think but any
onlooker
would see at once the situation was potentially dangerous. The chair
was
the only piece of furniture in the room; (she was deliberately
avoiding
comfortably upholstered chairs as a psychological aspect to her
weight-
reducing regime) it was small and fragile with a rush seat. The legs
were
spindly and the back was high in ladder-back style. The girl on the
other
hand, was large and plump - the true couch potato.

She sat, arranged her overlapping thighs and bulging buttocks on
the
worn, frayed, seat. The chair complained but it didn't make a fuss. Her
fat
feet, which she had squeezed into shiny black shoes with bows
rested
against the chair legs when she bent her knees and drew her toes across
the
floor. The chair complained again, a little louder this time and it
trembled
slightly as her feet left the floor and rested on the bottom rung. She
leaned
back and felt the chair sway; she wriggled to settle her flabby
back
comfortably and it swayed again but she showed no sign of concern, and
she
was aware of nothing untoward.

For a few minutes the girl sat very still, then realising she
needed
something to occupy her mind she thought of the book she had brought
in
the bag, now hanging on the back of the chair. To rise, remove the
book
from the bag and resume her seat seemed, to the couch potato
unnecessarily
energetic so on impulse she reached for it.

Unfortunately her bosom was of abnormal size and her arms were
unusually short., so the bag remained out of reach. She would have to
turn
on her haunches to procure it. With her fingers outstretched and her
arm
across her more than ample breast, she made a sudden grab for the
bag,
hoping to take it by surprise.

Her outstretched fingers did not reach it. As she launched herself to
the
left, her bulging buttocks swivelled on the rush seat and it was quite
unable
to withstand the strain. She thrust her left leg out crashing her foot
on the
polished floor in a vain attempt to prevent what was rapidly becoming
the
inevitable fall. The foot squeezed into the shiny black shoe slipped,
so that
she and the chair went into a nose-dive. In a blind panic she grabbed
the
little chair's ladder-back which came away in her hand. Down she
went.
Slap! Wobble! Splat! A couch potato, all but mashed among a
proliferation
of wood splinters and shredded rushes.
RJ.