July 9th is Cleavage Day in Tricksville, New Jersey. You won't see it advertised in the newspapers or mentioned in the evening news but folks round here know all about it.
On Cleavage Day all the overweight women put on their most revealing tops and parade around town flaunting what the good Lord gave them. Their often worn frumpy shirts and puffy blouses spend the day in the laundry bin. Perverts come from miles around to gawk at the gyrating mounds of flesh on display. They claim to be in town for the farmer's market. Local shop owners set up tables on the street, turning Tricksville into a huge street fair. Funnel cake, deep fried Twinkie, sausage & pepper, cheese curd, and apple pie on a stick stands pack both sides of the sidewalk.
You won't find a smoothie stand.
The gym that prides itself on being open on all major holidays keeps its doors locked.
The skinny ladies don't even bother going outside. They find the whole spectacle quite revolting. They coop themselves up in their homes, eating salads all day, bitching at their husbands and boyfriends who keep trying to sneak peeks out the window at the extravaganza outside.
At nightfall, whatever inhibitions the fat ladies may have still harbored disappear with the last of the sunlight. Off come the bras and out come the boobie tassles. The street fair transforms into an all out block party with kegs of beer, karaoke machines, and chicken wings. The skinny ladies spend much of the night calling the cops with noise complaints but it just so happens that the Tricksville chief of police likes his women on the robust side. On Cleavage Day he can usually be found admiring the activity at the heavy-duty glow-in-the-dark trampoline. With their complaints unheard, the scrawny bitches shut their windows and crank up the volume to their Sex & the City: Season 3 DVDs and treat their modest figures to modest portions of frozen yogurt.
When the last keg is cashed and the final tassle is twirled Cleavage Day fizzles out like a child's first sparkler. The slender gals greet the new day in droves and reclaim their town in sport bras, jogging shorts, and iPods, rolling their eyes at the seemingly endless trail of discarded plastic cups, double d bras, and chicken bones. Soon the street cleaners will erase the aftermath of July 9th, making sure July 10th looks like July 8th. Tucked in their king sized Sertas the big women of Tricksville sleep in, often with newly found company. They're in no rush to rise or shine. If it were up to them they'd treat themselves to a hearty breakfast, return to bed, and set their alarms for the next Cleavage Day, dreaming of gentle breezes on their ample bosoms for 364 days straight.
zeroth life lesson: it's true that those who get a smaller slice of the pie tend to savor it more. it's also true that those same people get gypped.
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