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Hugh liked to do everything big: big house, big cars…Hugh liked to think of himself as a big man, though a more accurate description would be “round.” Hugh had big appetites to match his big attitude and it showed prominently. He liked to make a big scene and be the center of attention, even though people were more disgusted by him than impressed.

I strolled down the row of racers, the sponsors and the sponsors’ painters, already hard at work on the costumes. I nodded casual greetings to the other racers. Jenny, a longtime friend and former lover, was already getting her logo painted on her belly--a large AT&T logo, plus several other smaller sponsors’ logos.

“You’re lucky to snag them,” I said. “How much for?”

“Three million plus endorsements and commercials. Who’d you get?”

I told her. She laughed.

Three days before the race and I was incredibly nervous as I stood with the other unhired racers in a row, hoping to be hired. My black rubber gas suit bore my pressure stat “425” in large proud white letters across my swollen belly as I stood with my hands behind my back. Problem was, so were my other eight competitors, six women and two men. Women had more natural adaptability for this than men did; among men, I was a minor celebrity. The crowds were still milling around as a young debutante—tight sweater, tight jeans--strolled up to me, all hips and lips and boobs.