The first article I ever wrote for Dimensions (back when it was aspunky little black-and-white amazine named "FA-Sig") was a pieceon "Sudden Growth in the Comics." It dealt with comic book instancesof weight gain, a theme that shows up quite often in Silver Age superherotitles. Dunno why this theme was so prevalent, but I have no doubt thatmy reading of these stellar works as a Baby Boomer played a part in my warpeddevelopment.

One unexpected consequence of that early article: occasionally, a readerwill send me a copy of a weigh related comic to add to the Barbers Library.Sometimes the older ones'll be books I remember reading as a kid, sometimesnot. This month a reader (thanks, Bob M.!) passed on a well-read copy ofLois Lane No. 5 (November, 1958), which has as its cover story, "TheFattest Girl in Metropolis!" I'd forgotten this little gem, but soonas I opened the book, it all came back to me.

The DC comics line particularly delighted in these plotlines, fatteningup their lead characters for the space of a story: both Superman and Boywere fattened, as was Supes' pal, Jimmy Olson; elsewhere in the DC universe,supertypes like the Flash and Wonder Woman also struggled with newly expandedwaistlines. (Of them all, the Fastest Man Alive was most radically transformed,ballooning at the hands of arch-villain Gorilla Grodd to a thousand pounds­p;-too bad it couldn't have happened to Wonder Woman!)

In "Fattest Girl," Superman's Girl Friend is transformed at thehands of an experimental plant growth ray. After being hit by said ray,our heroine wakes next a.m. to find she's doubled her weight (a look ather scale puts her new weight at 200 pounds -- hardly sufficient to makeher Metropolis' "fattest girl," but never mind.) As rendered,Lois is an upper mid-sized, matronly figure, made dowdier by the unflatteringprofessional girl garb that she favored at this point in the series.

Much of the eight page story concerns itself with Lois' fears that the manshe loves will discover she's changed and dump her: "Superman wouldnever propose to me now!" she thinks self-pityingly at one point. "Nobodyloves a fat girl. . ." Of course, the Man O' Steel already knows abouther weight gain; he's responsible for it. It's all a scheme on his partto hide her from a killer.
The heck with the plot mechanics, though. Of primary interest to FAs arethose scenes where Lois attempts to deal with her new body, struggling withruined clothing, dieting and then giving into the lure of a birthday boxof chocolates. At one point in the story, she passes a carnival Freak Showwith a "Fat lady wanted!" sign in front. "Hey, Miss!"the barker shouts, "Just fatten up a few pounds and this job is your!"

Naturally, our heroine's condition is temporary, though it ends on an amusingnote. After stepping in front of the growth ray a second time and beingtold that she'll return to her old size in the morning, Lois forces Supermanto take her out to dinner. "Now I can. . . stuff myself all I wantwithout worrying that I'll stay fat!" she proclaims in the final panel,seated before a table groaning with comestibles. "Waiter! More food!"A neat image.

You don't see plots like this in modern comics ­p;- current scriptersfocus more on cosmic battles royale than on frivolous mundane matters likeweight gain. The young readers' loss, think I. For all its anachronisticattitudes towards women (the 90's LL wouldn't spend her all time worryingabout whether Superman would propose to her!), there's an innocent goofinessto this kind of stuff that adds to its appeal. "Fattest Girl"is representative of a time when comics were written for kids and nobodyworried about being too serious.
Over the last few years, the more lightweight approach has been taken overby television, which is happily unable to take the concept of a grown manin tights too straight.

Hmmm. . . Maybe the creative minds on ABC's "Lois And Clark" shouldlooking at those old Lois Lanes. How d'ya think Teri Hatcher would lookunder a growth ray?

---Wilson Barbers