Absolutely fantastic piece of news in the newspaper today. Apparently the UK government is going to identify obese youngsters and then send the family a mail saying "your son is overweight etc. please do something about it."
Apparently parents walk around in a bit of a daze, and then when the gov comes to the rescue, they turn around, take one look, and go, "Oh shit, my son IS a fatty". Enlightenment dawns.
Apart from anything else, I feel really bad for these poor Brits. Back home in India, even if your parents were blind to your shape - or lack of it - a la the Dursleys from Harry Potter, you have more than enough "friends" and family (that doesn't really work with quotation marks, unfortunately) to point this out. As Sudhir mentioned in one of his posts,
its amazing how when you're at a party in India, one person tells you you've put on weight, and five minutes later someone else tells you you've lost weight.
I don't know what the Indian obsession with fat is, but for me its almost a daily greeting, ranging from "Put on a bit of weight, eh?" to "Looking prosperous" to "Oh my god! What happened to you!" Sometimes it can be accompanied with a poke in the stomach, which doesn't really make it much better.
As someone who was very fat, then reasonably slim, then back to fat but not-as-fat-as-before, I can do a thesis on the subject. When I was very fat, everyone made fun of it in school, which was normal. Then when I lost weight, I was gratified by the number of people who told me I'm looking great etc. But even this is such an obsession that I gradually grew tired of it, and began to hate it. Finally, when for the millionth time someone asked me how I'd lost so much weight (I'd gone down by 20 kg, so i can understand, but still) I told him I had typhoid. He was very satisfied with the answer, that was the shortest conversation I ever had on the subject. People don't like the idea that someone's actually worked at achieving something, I think.
And then, those halcyon days passed, I started work, salary came in, beer happened, and I the curves emerged once again. This was probably worse than when I was fat originally. I had so many comments I grew sick of going out at all. The crowning glory was when the CEO of Cognizant, who I was interviewing, told me I'd put on weight. It was ridiculous.
My Dad came up with a pretty good repartee. Fuming, he said: "The next time someone asks 'How did you become so fat', I'm going to say 'How did you become so ugly?' " It's actually uncanny how most of the people who make these comments are uggos.
Anyways, I've been completely spoilt by the UK, where I can honestly say I haven't heard one comment about my weight. But in two weeks I'll be back in Chennai - I'm looking forward to it so bloody much, my mind jumps with pleasure at the thought of swimming in sambar and stuffing dosais ravenously down my throat, going to the beach and vodka-tonics at Zara. But somewhere lurking in the back of my mind is the fat-factor. Have I put on or lost weight since when I was last there?
Sheffield, being very hilly, and me being too poor to catch buses has been good for keeping me fit. On the other hand, England has many varieties of beer, and I felt I would be doing myself an injustice if I didn't sample all. So I have no idea.
But I have a feeling I will soon find out.
