I’m overweight, bordering on obese. And this is relevant. I don’t state “uncomfortable” facts just for fun, drama and pizazz. Well, maybe.
The thing about being obese is that everyone has an opinion. Frankly, just substitute “obese” with “a woman” and that statement still rings true. But the most critical people I meet are oddly, women. I don’t believe they are being malicious, maybe some of them are. But that’s how we have been wired.
If I’m eating something: “Look at her devouring that pizza. That’s why she’s so fat!”
If I decline to eat something: “OMG, are you on a diet? You’re dieting now, wow.”
Yes, I’m fat and yes, I’m decimating a pizza. I’m a wreck, sure. if you’re so offended, don’t look at it.
No, I’m not eating the namkeen you offered. No, I’m not on a diet. I just don’t like the look of it. I get to decide what I put in my body. And yes, I’d rather have a pizza.
Okay, things got away from me there.
I know I should do all the things you suggest. I know that I’m living an unhealthy life and that being obese is not ideal. Some of you are friends and you have the right to tell me so because I have opened my life upto you. Your intentions are good and you worry that I’m not fit. I agree, being obese is not healthy and neither is being stick thin. And you don’t want either for me.
To those of you who aren’t, it is none of your goddamn business. Don’t randomly come up to me and tell me of some “ayurvedic medicine” that helped your brother’s wife’s third cousin lose weight. It’s not okay for you to do that, not on the metro, not on the street, not bloody anywhere. Don’t subject me to your ideal of beauty, don’t chip away at my self esteem like it’s your right to do so because you have eyes.
I’m not a blot or an unsightly mark. I’m a fucking pearl and the world is my oyster.
More to come. Let me know what you think. Oh, and Happy Women’s day! (belated)