I saw the play Fat Pig last weekend and it's taken me a while to process it. It 's by Neil LaBute and it turns out he's one of those artists that people have a definite opinion about. This opinion is very often, "Ugh, no." I can understand why someone would think that although I find him entertaining although I don't wish he and I could hang out or anything.

The play is about a guy who falls in love with a woman who is really fat. His friends, who were mean to him before this woman, become especially mean once they find out that she is fat. It's a bit much to label this a "spoiler" but he dumps her so that he can be lonely instead of teased. The End.

I have been thinking of this as "Goddamn you fat woman for being so desirable, yet fat!" and one more example of LaBute's, uh, conflicted feelings towards women. But I've realized, after just reading the introduction to the published version of the script, that he himself is considerably overweight which is both stressful and also a point of pride because he believes that his writing and his girth are interconnected somehow. Kind of like artists being enamored of bourbon as a muse or Camel Lights but for him it's Pringles. So now I've refined my opinion as "Women should really restrain themselves because they'll get fat but I don't want to restrain myself because it's restraining."