Week Thirty-Five: Measuring Party

Some time last year, I read a posting on a national news story that went something like this: “Nowadays it’s only the fatties and the Mormons you can make fun of. But at least the Mormons have a sense of humor.” That immediately came to mind when I read Cokesbury’s Measuring Party, which encourages “some organization in the church” to make money for some purpose by charging party attendees a penny per inch of waistline. I can see this party going over very well these days, especially if fatties have developed a sense of humor since that posting was made.

Cokesbury suggests you invite a lot of people. That they be fat may be implied, though it’s telling in Cokesbury’s description that obesity was not yet an epidemic in the United States in 1932:

A hundred people averaging thirty inches waist measure would bring in thirty dollars.

It’s also telling that it’s not only our waistlines that are inflated:

This is more money than the average group will make in one night on a dinner or other feature.

Remember, this was 1932. Most of your guests would have had an onion tied to their belts as well, which was the style at the time.

Here’s the invitation:

This little apron is sent to you,
And this is what we wish you’d do:

A little pocket in front you’ll see,
And for a special purpose it’s meant to be.

Measure your waistline, inch by inch;
Don’t draw in your breath, don’t pull, don’t pinch.

Then for each inch you measure round
In the apron pocket put a penny sound.

This game is fair, you will admit;
You “waist” your money, we pocket it.

Now if the size of your waist you will not tell.
Just slip in a dollar – ‘twill do quite as well.

All “waist” money which the pocket pays
The Woman’s Council will use in the wisest ways.

Bring your apron with you and don’t be late;
Place: First Christian Church; September 1, the date.

So dig up the cash and put on a smile,
And we’ll throw care away for a little while.

The assumption here is that you’ll substitute the name of your group and the place of the party in the invitation. Unless of course you want to enrage your feminist/atheist or feminist and atheist friends with the obvious cultural underpinnings of holding the party at a Christian church for a woman’s organization. Since both are said in company, it’s a guarantee they won’t be burning their bras. Cokesbury also advises sending overalls to the men, rather than aprons. Unless, of course, you’ve got metrosexuals in your midst who aren’t shy about being seen in an apron. Or if the fatties on your list just want to go with a muumuu.



Of course you’re not literally sending aprons or overalls. That would be cost-prohibitive and wasteful, unless, of course, you were planning on later hosting a Hobo Party or School Days Party, in which the garments could play a costuming role. Still, you’re better off following Cokesbury’s advice:

These aprons and overalls are very little trouble to make. They can be made from scraps of material. Just a piece of cloth cut in the shape of an apron or overall with a bit of binding around it will suffice. Be sure to get the pocket on it, for that is the important part.

From here on out, you’re pretty much on your own, party-wise. With this many people at your party, it’s “impractical,” Cokesbury says, to play games. So you’ll want a program. They do offer some advice:

Orchestra. “Almost any orchestra will be glad to give their services for such a program,” Cokesbury says. If, of course, they’re not busy recording music for George Lucas’ next film and you can afford their massive fee. Orchestras aren’t as charitable these days as they were in the ‘30s.

Recitation or Monologue. Humorous, if possible. I’m sure Kenny Kynoch is available. (Understand my ramblings by reading the latter half of the School Days Party entry.)

Comic Skit or Black-Face Comedy. “If there are two who are good black-face artists, they may be able to use material given in Chapter LII, ‘The Minstrel Show.’” That’s a party the Cokesbury Party Blog will handle with nuclear criticality care, to be sure, if I’m not sued into oblivion by the Revs. Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton before then for even bringing the subject up.

Of course, they haven’t sued Neil Diamond. Yet.



You’re on to refreshments now. The obligatory sandwiches are mentioned. As is this doozy: “Almost any bakery will donate paper plates to a church organization for a party of this kind as a means of advertising.” Try that today and you’ll get laughed out of the store with a sizzling donut hole stuck to your melting forehead.

Be sure to drink your Ovaltine.

No, that’s a crummy commercial.

Be sure to tune in next week for Cokesbury’s exciting Fifty Party. No, I don’t know what it means either.