The unbearable lightness of being fat.

Oh lamentations! I am dutifully working on my dissertation prospectus and lo I come upon an article in the archives of the Moroccan daily newspaper le Matin called, “Surcharge pondérale,” meaning overweight. As an obese person such articles always pique my interest—not because like the thin people of the world I live in fear of getting fat but because I represent that which disgusts so many people—actually being fat. Anyhow instead of continuing with a useful endeavor, like manifesting linkages between grassroots activism among illiterate women and democratic transition in Arab states, I skimmed through the article until I got to the requisite section on the risks of obesity—we’re an unhealthy, unproductive lot who’re a drain on society—did you know? But the risk section instead told me something I wasn’t expecting. “La personne obèse souffre du rejet des autres et est donc victime de solitude, notamment affective”—according to Le Matin "the obese person suffers from the rejection of others and is thus a victim of solitude, especially emotional." Someone ought to tell my friends that I am supposed to be an isolated, loveless, lonely pariah before the universe implodes on itself.

To be fair I am fully aware that the daily life of a morbidly obese person is different from the life of a thin person. I take up more space on the bus seat, have fewer options when it comes to fashion, and can’t see a doctor without receiving a lecture about my presumed lifestyle of excess despite having no obvious health problems (normal blood pressure and cholesterol, etc.). But the fact that I am also 6 feet (1m82) tall poses many of the same quotidian inconveniences—minus the health lecture. Yes I realize that longevity is more likely if I lose weight, but I can’t resist being annoyed at the aesthetic revulsion of becoming overweight that exists among so many people. There are worse things in life to be, including stupid, morally bankrupt, and hateful.