Paul Richardson: No ironing needed

If you can recall the late Paul Harvey and his broadcast “The Rest of The Story," then this meandering would fall into the rest of the story category. 

Join me in a short travel in time going back a couple weeks ago. If you recall the writing was titled “Fat Boys Don’t Fold Well” and recounted my day of struggles with everything from medical appointments to our choice in breakfast locations. Now, here is the rest of the story.

The title line, “Fat Boys Don’t Fold Well”, has been around for several years. That was the script on the front of some shirts that we sold, and that particular shirt was our most popular item. 

It didn’t make any difference whether Sane City Limits or the Trade Company was represented on the back, people that purchased that shirt bought if for one reason, the front script. Many automatically assumed that the statement was tied to the Harley-Davidson soft tail model that bore a similar name of Fatboy. It did not have anything to do with that motorcycle, in fact, this is how the phrase came about: I was assigned to the project office at Carthage at the time. 

One day while in conversation with Rick Lemasters, who was the supervisor next door at the maintenance facility, we began discussing the boots that we would buy for the upcoming year.

For years I had worn a pull-on classic two-buckle engineer with the Harley-Davidson logo. This style of boot was causing me some problems and hurting my feet. Rick was having a similar problem and our discussion had determined that it was time to return to a lace-up boot. That was not a problem as the boot truck had in its inventory a buckle-over-lace, paratrooper style, Harley-Davidson boot. 

I stated that the only problem was when I bent over to tie the boots, I felt like I was going to pass out. Rick responded with, “That’s because fat boys don’t fold well.” Thus, the words were said, and the statement was born.

The shirts were produced and became so popular that the female customers were constantly asking for their own special shirt. This seemed like a very dangerous path to travel and no matter what I did, it was not going to turn out well. I was successful in putting the ladies off for a couple of years, but eventually the pressure resumed, and I knew that there was no escape.

Late one night, my muse finally arrived with a line that I knew was risky but was the golden moment. There were a couple of caveats. 1. Skinny girls would not be permitted to buy this shirt. 2. Men, husbands or boyfriends would not be permitted to buy this shirt. In fact, the girls that did purchase the shirt were required to present a photo id and sign a disclaimer stating that they would not return and cause me physical harm.

I am just going to rip off the band-aid and reveal this script where there was no middle ground, no gray areas, just love or hate: No Ironing Needed, Fat Girls Don’t Wrinkle!

I got substantial feedback on the previous article and some readers reminded me that the story didn’t end there.