Nowadays, we shroud the reality of situations in kinder, gentler words. If somebody can't pay attention, whether due to being overly active or being in a daze, we have a name for it. If someone is overweight, "obese" seems like a kinder word; afterall, it is an epidemic. If someone loses all sense of calmness in a situation, she may be anxious, or actually have a full-blown anxiety order. Words like fat and crazy never come into play as they are seen as "inappropriate."
Flashback to 1863. It was post Civil War and, amidst the abolition of slavery, William Banting, a previously overweight white man, desired to tell the world how he lost weight. He wrote Letter on Corpulence: Addressed to the Public. Banting detailed how he got rid of sugars and simple carbs, replacing those foods with meats, vegetables, fruits, and even the occasional glass of wine. Basically, Banting should be convulsing at his gravesite due to multi-million (billion?) dollar industry is the low-carb craze. Since he was an undertaker and coffin maker by trade, he's probably rolling back and forth in a pretty luxurious coffin.
Low-carb talk aside, I do simply love the word corpulence. It makes me think of Rubens' paintings of full-figured women, Lane Bryant models of the 1630s--- pendulous breasts, sturdy legs, and protruding bellies. Corpulent makes me think of the gopher from Caddyshack. Corpulent makes me think of a mound of mashed potatoes, covered with peas, carrots, squares of subpar ham, and small shreds of cheese. It makes me think of Everything Fried, the short-lived eatery in the Livingston Mall whose goal was to put basically anything in batter and then fry it in large amounts of oil. You'd walk right by Victoria's Secret and then suddenly have the scent of funnel cakes entering your nostrils.
Corpulence is such as "bad" word, but it kicks the ass of "thin," "healthy," or "slender" on any day of the week.
Flashback to 1863. It was post Civil War and, amidst the abolition of slavery, William Banting, a previously overweight white man, desired to tell the world how he lost weight. He wrote Letter on Corpulence: Addressed to the Public. Banting detailed how he got rid of sugars and simple carbs, replacing those foods with meats, vegetables, fruits, and even the occasional glass of wine. Basically, Banting should be convulsing at his gravesite due to multi-million (billion?) dollar industry is the low-carb craze. Since he was an undertaker and coffin maker by trade, he's probably rolling back and forth in a pretty luxurious coffin.
Low-carb talk aside, I do simply love the word corpulence. It makes me think of Rubens' paintings of full-figured women, Lane Bryant models of the 1630s--- pendulous breasts, sturdy legs, and protruding bellies. Corpulent makes me think of the gopher from Caddyshack. Corpulent makes me think of a mound of mashed potatoes, covered with peas, carrots, squares of subpar ham, and small shreds of cheese. It makes me think of Everything Fried, the short-lived eatery in the Livingston Mall whose goal was to put basically anything in batter and then fry it in large amounts of oil. You'd walk right by Victoria's Secret and then suddenly have the scent of funnel cakes entering your nostrils.
Corpulence is such as "bad" word, but it kicks the ass of "thin," "healthy," or "slender" on any day of the week.
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