Oooooh... Bodies!

There is a fat fellow who is at the moment tiling the staircase at my new house. Staircases are not easy to tile because the edge of the tile that meets the edge of the step needs to be ground to a round edge, else people walking up the stairs might cut their shins on the sharp edge of the tile. Tiles are hard to cut. You need a diamond edged cutter. They're even harder to grind. You need a diamond sand panel affixed onto a machine that spins the panel around at high speed. You need a steady eye, a steady hand and laser-focused concentration to achieve a consistently rounded edge.

Mr Fat Fellow at work ties a towel about his head, doffs his shirt, and shuffles about in bermudas. Rolls of fat jiggle as he walks, and his man boobs look like feasts for hungry breast fed babies. Beads of perspiration sparkle off this ensemble of bare flesh topped with towel. After days of observation, I now know what the towel is for. It prevents the beads of perspiration from flowing into his eyes as he holds the diamond sand panel to the edge of the tile.

I tell you, this guy tiles beautifully. That staircase of mine has more rounded curves than a woman. I really like Mr Fat Fellow and always greet him loudly when I go by so that he can hear me above the whirr of his diamond sand panel.

One day though, I went by the worksite a little later than usual. Mr Fat Fellow was all dressed and ready to go home. I wondered who this portly man with glasses was. He kinda looked like my dad. Very dad-like. Then I realized that this was the very same fellow who normally looks like every breast fed baby's idea of a good feed.

There is another fellow who works on my ceiling. When I first met him, he looked rather scrawny. He had on a loose t-shirt and when he smiled, his teeth were horribly stained with goodness knows what. He was a fast and silent worker. Then one day, I looked up at the roof and saw a man in jeans and no shirt. Sitting atop those jeans was a 6-pack stomach that I thought only exists in magazines. And the whole morsel was marinated in glistening sweat.

Whoa! Mr ManHunt 2011 had dropped by my house! As my eyes travelled up from stomach to face, I realized that it was Mr Scrawny. He was not smiling then (so you can't see his bad teeth) and he looked down at me with the smouldering intensity of... of... of... Tay Ping Hui in C.L.I.F.? It was hard not to stare at his abdomen. I don't usually get a chance to examine a 6-pack abdomen, and it was quite fascinating. It was all I could do to stop myself from grabbing a stick and giving it a good poke.

I never ever looked at Mr Scrawny again without imagining what he looked like without his shirt. Good thing he doesn't come around anymore.

For anyone who is thinking of going into building construction, please dun be a tiler because tiling works your hands and the rest of your body turns to flab. Think seriously about being a ceiling board installer because you gotta work every muscle in your body to balance and climb, and so you end up looking lean and mean and you know... just whoa!