Fats

Fats wasn't exactly fat. He was fairly average sized, in everything but his boots. Those were quite small. Juden and Token frequently commented on how small Fats' boots were, but never about how fat Fats wasn't. Mrs. Fats, Fats' mother, not Mrs. Fats, Fats' wife, was a devout Catholic woman who believed heartily in fasting as a form of pennance. She was very fat. This state was either due to her devout nature or her tendancy to gorge herself following each fasting session. Hoping that her son would not be as fat as her, she named him "Slim" and told him every day that he was her beautiful little boy, or her strong skinny man, or that his boots were really not that small. Then she would fast as pennance.
Fats grew at an average rate to an average height and average build, graduating from an average high school and an average ROTC program at an average college into a horrible branch of the Army and married a very pretty girl. The last two items averaged each other out, he reasoned. The boots, however, were still far too small.
"I think my boots make me look fat," Fats used to say.
"You are Fats," his friends used to joke. Fats never grew tired of this joke, until the third time he heard it. After that, he kicked people in the shins for the response. Almost anyone who knew Fats had been kicked in the shins for responding with "You are Fats."
After knowing Ox for about a year and never hearing him comment on the tiny boots, Fats asked if his boots made him look fat.
"Yep." Ox responded. Fats rared for a kick, but then realized that Ox might not have been joking.
"Wait... really?" a puzzled Fats asked.
"Well, yeah." Ox affirmed. "I mean, you have really, really tiny boots, but everything else about you is average. Proportionally, I'd say you're pretty fat compared to your boots."
Fats was puzzled. For his entire life, absolutely nothing stood out about him other than the size of his boots. He never wore shoes, because his foot size was actually very average. Fats had figured out how to wedge his feet into boots three or four sizes below what he should have been wearing. His tiny boots were his defining characteristic. Now, though, someone thought he looked fat. Should Fats start wearing average boots to match his average body and average life? Would he blend completely into obscurity if he lost the one thing that looked different about him? The one truly fat Lieutenant had just left the company, and Fats was worried that compared to the other skinny officers, he would now appear very fat.
"I mean, heck, compared to Juden, Token, myself, and CPT Hugnis," Ox went on, "you are kinda fat, Fats. The boots just emphasize it."
Dammit. Just what I needed, Fats thought. Now I'm finally different, but it's because I'm fat. My boots are the only average thing now.
"I'm not saying that your boots are average, though. They're still really tiny," Ox continued.
Great. I'm just a fat bodied, small booted....
"So I guess you're kinda just the fat bodied, small booted lieutenant around her, aren't you?"
Ok, this shit is getting annoying, Fats began to think.
"That's gotta be annoying, huh?" Ox asked.
Fats kicked Ox in the shins. It left a very small bruise.