Fat or Big is Beautiful

It’s time I came to terms with it.
I’m fat.
I’m not the "let’s stare at him his ass is so huge he probably shat and doesn’t realise its still stuck in his crack" fat. When you’re Shashi Kapoor fat, you and the world both know that there is no hope and everyone can place bets on when the person will keel over and die in the middle of a meal without any guilt. However when you’re wearing an additional size to cover the paunch and seatbelts accentuate your titlets™ fat, there is always hope that somehow, someday it will become better. People tell you that it’s easy to get rid of. When you bathe you can still see your penis when you look down and tell yourself all is not lost. It is then when you accidentally run your hand to the fat cliff underneath your navel and realise that you didn’t know this area existed till a few weeks ago. You then cry in the shower, realising you need the same mirrors mall security use to check underneath cars for bombs to see portions of your own stomach.

Of course, one does not become fat overnight. On some level, I am almost proud of my titlets because I have seen them grow over time. I imagine this is what women feel like when they’re pregnant. Somewhat glowing, somewhat proud, somewhat indulgent in unnecessary squeez..never mind. However, I have noticed the following changes in my lifestyle ever since I have become aware of my fatness.
Dietary patterns: An essential aspect of being fat but pretending as if you’re working on losing weight are internal dietary compromises one makes with the brain. Old Monk starts being paired with diet coke, which is as good as defiling the grave of all your life’s greatest memories. Sugarless coffee suddenly becomes the norm and one pretends as if they were part of an American sitcom where everyone spends their mornings walking around New York with a coffee cup. Fried food becomes a strict no no, till one realises that the only way to finish an Old Monk with Diet Coke is by supplementing it with fried food.
All of this to satiate the brain into believing that the number of calories being consumed has been reduced even though absolute consumption of food remains the same if not more. My personal favourite has been replacing regular sugar with sugar free, whose tag line might as well be "WE TOLD YOU YOU’D LOSE WEIGHT, WE JUST NEVER SAID IT WOULD BE BECAUSE OF CHEMO!"

Clothes: One of the toughest things about being in India is caste discrimination, female foeticide, poverty, malnutrition not being able to find clothes your size if you’re fat. I already faced this problem before, but becoming fat means that I am forced to look at acquiring a U.S. visa. The problem is that even if you wear a size 40, it isn’t big enough because of the increased shamiana like titlets and paunch pulling up the cloth from its appropriate length. I presume this is why so many old people across India can be seen in the morning wearing tight, ill-fitting vests with their navels exposed while spitting out a blowjob level daatun paste. I am happy to report that I am getting the perfect training for that future. Size 40 is now too small. Very few manufacturers make a 40 and above, and the ones who do seem to have no sense of taste. It’s almost like Indian manufacturers got together and thought "Chal na pehle hi saala itna mota hai who cares what he is wearing he will still look fuckall just give him the leftover drapes".


It is virtually impossible to pull off the hipster look. While black plastic framed glasses work effectively, bright coloured chinos and other such clothing items that are essential to depict the "I’m a youthful commodity buy me buy me!" look to potential clients in Mumbai is hard to achieve, thus placing one at a disadvantage. Black however, is your amazing best friend. Not because it makes you look slim but because black doesn’t look very dirty in public even if you wear it four times without washing it.

Finally, I realised that I’ve reached the stage where I suck in my stomach around women without even realising it. More than women, the other day I caught myself sucking it in when a delivery guy came over with pizza. First off, what is the point of involuntarily sucking in my stomach if after that I'm still fat? It’s almost like even if I’m not my body is too ashamed to let the delivery boy know that I eat too much. I make a "don’t judge me" face and try and communicate with my eyes that it is infact, thin crust, but they don’t seem to buy it. At my age where people have already starting playing Chinese whispers (Am I the only one who thinks the term Chinese whispers is like a communist sanitary pad that each woman in the village has to share for the greater good?) with the M word, it is especially important that I stay fit so that my future partner does not have to deal with my jelly.

When I was in school I had a two-year period where I was rather fat and photogenically challenged. I didn’t get bullied or made fun of, except this one time where I tried to bowl in a cricket match after a long time and realised I couldn’t extract any pace from my run up. That for the simple fact that I couldn’t run fast enough and delivered a series of Nehras. I outgrew that phase in a year because of a magical growth in height. I wonder what will happen now, and how ill get out of this jam. Oooo…jam.