Kim is a woman I met at work. She answers phones for a living. K-I-M as in Kim Kardashian or Kim Cattrall. But she's nothing like those Kim's; she's an interesting character, like nobody I've ever met before. She's the kind of woman you'd affectionately classify as a broad. She's loud, insulting, and her mom probably coined the term "a face only a mother could love". She has the visage of Dale Dickey and the body of Homer Simpson. Her face and hands are weathered. Not weathered from something vain and leisurely like tanning, but worn from the elements, like wind or sandstorms. Her hands don't appear as if she's always picked up telephones; they're more like hands that grab live animals...by the throat. Her former occupation must have been something hard. The kind of work you'd classify as brutal manual labor, such as harvesting crops or moving boulders in a stone quarry using only brute strength. It appears that she spent a large portion of her life doing the kind of rugged blue collar chores that are mandatory of inmates.
Her body is fueled by dark lager and discount pork products she buys at Save-A-Lot. Johnnie Walker surges through her veins and seeps out of her pores. She drinks whiskey from a pint glass; without rocks. Although she does give it up each year for lent; "giving up the brown" as she so eloquently puts it. During the forty days of lent she sacrifices her drink of choice and scales back to a strict detox of heavy beer. She eats like a football player and is always boasting about the $11 pot roast from Value King that's blistering in her Crock-Pot. I assume she consumes the entire roast that same evening seeing as how left overs never make it to the office the following day. She usually totes in a loaf of bread and an entire meatloaf for lunch. Kim carbo-loads like she's gearing up for a rugby match; and maybe she is, I don't know what she does when she's off the clock (other than swigging bottles of Crown Royal like she's trying to get her name on some 'high score' arcade game in alcoholics heaven). She's the kind of gal who you envision a bar fight against your dad, or winning a hot dog eating contest, or the kind of woman they name barbecue sauce after.
She's a nice lady, don't get me wrong. She's very friendly in that abrasive, blunt, outspoken kind of way. She has the kind of demeanor that would intimidate a cop as he was trying to arrest her. I wish I could say she's as sweet as pie for the mere fact that she's someone's grandmother, but she's tough as nails. Her appearance is difficult to describe, to put it gently she has a physique that Peter Griffin would envy. If beer guts received trophies she'd have a case in the hall of fame! It's not that she's repulsive, on the contrary she has a boyfriend (who's not a bad looking guy). I suppose it's easiest to start from the top and work our way down like a slow motion camera shot that reveals a bikini clad female, one body part at a time. Her hair has a natural curl, parted in the middle, and is always air dried. This minimalistic "I'm too busy to plug in a goddamn hairdryer" motto creates a cool yet careless persona. Her coif is sort of a mullet meets Frank Zappa (when his hair was shoulder length) type look. When having a conversation with Kim your eyes alternate between two things; her pores (all of which are clogged) and her teeth which are a yellowish brown and overlap like puzzle pieces that don't fit. It looks like the receptacle where the tooth fairy dumps all the teeth she's collected over the years. The interior of her mouth resembles that of a Brussels Griffon both in color and tarter build up; but are worn down to square nubs as if she grinds up bullet casing for fun or opens canned goods with her front teeth. It's evident she's never been to a dentist seeing as how she's middle aged and yet her teeth appear to be one hundred and sixty seven. Her smile is more than that of someone who avoids the dentist though; I'd bet money that she sucks on Popsicles before bed or maybe squirts heaping amounts of chocolate syrup over her um...pearly corn kernels before bed in the same way some women apply cold cream; heavy and thick, letting it soak in.
Her breasts are enormous and the contents spill over the edges; pouring out the front and back. Her bra is working overtime unable to contain her inheritance as the garment is likely two sizes too small. I imagine the hook that holds her pride and glory in place is stronger than her quads yet quivers under the fabric of our lives as it threatens to give out. Her nipples are always hard and proportionate to her tits; huge like gumballs. Not the kind you had in your home gumball machine as a kid, but the kind in the grocery store that has the swirly slide the gumball rolls down for eternity before it plops out at the bottom. Her apparent titillation is perplexing because she's always complaining of how hot it is in the office. This is a woman who brags about not turning on her heat at home until late November and she lives in Cleveland, Ohio! She can bear the elements better than a lumberjack. Her favorite pants are a pair of khakis with a tapered leg that holds her ankles tightly. They gently hug her FUPA as if it's something she's worked hard for and wants on display. I've never gazed as far down as her feet cause I'm so entranced by the rest of her. For all I know she comes to the office barefoot.
Like I said I have nothing against Kim, in fact I find her highly amusing. I've never meet a broad like her and I don't suspect I will unless she has a sister. In one way I'm actually jealous of Kim. She is a woman who totally personifies "I am what I am". She's a "take it or leave it" kind of gal, who I legitimately believe doesn't have personal body issues. I'm sure that kind of mentality is only present in .02% of the female population. She's confident and says exactly what she's thinking even if it's the same kind of sentiment that most people would get fired for. As Kim would say, "I don't give a rats ass". And honestly,in that respect, I wish I could be more like Kim.
