The fats of the matter Believes that she is a woman marked by her fatness; she can run, but thanks to the cameras everywhere, she can never hide

The fats of the matter

Believes that she is a woman marked by her fatness; she can run, but thanks to the cameras everywhere, she can never hide

've always had a problem with my weight. A few years back, it was easy to remain unseen and get away with being overweight. Life was not so public. The advertising was not so aggressive and the invasive technology of mobiles and security cameras were yet to appear on the scene. Today I can run but cannot hide. One Sunday morning I was in the mall, doing some window shopping before getting down to some bargain basement grocery shopping. Relaxed, and moving slowly from window to window, I inadvertently stood in front of the white goods super store. Suddenly there was a whizz and a whirr, and lo and behold, my entire body was on display in a hundred television screens. Heads turned in a single movement towards me. I ran away from the damn cameras like a dog with its tail on fire. I hate them. These security cameras and these large mirrors in salons and trial rooms are really preposterous. It is so ugly to see your own bulges and bumps. Give me the old fashioned shoe shops any day where they had tiny mirrors at floor level to have a look at how your feet looked in the new shoes your were trying. It is God's boon that feet do not look fat. I used to love standing and admiring my feet in those shoe- shops without having to look at the rest of my multi-fold body. Those discrete stores are gone forever. Alas, today they are everywhere. The cameras. At work, though I am a bit proud of my video conferencing with my associates all over the world, I hate it when I get a glimpse of my stomach on the screen. No, I do not eat much. It is just that my ancestors must have lived in the Sahara or something. Today my body remembers those hungry and thirsty days that my genetic forefathers had to live through in the desert, and in fear, it starts storing fat. I am doomed by my genes. I have tried swimming. They tell you swimming is the best way to lose inches off your body. Here, too, I was time-bombed. I felt so hungry after twenty laps that I ate more calories than I had burned. As a result, my legs slimmed down and my arms looked strong but my belly bulged out a bit more so that I looked like a lollipop with arms. I am glad something is being done about the badgering text messages. They have hounded me like the secret police of a totalitarian state. Another Sunday roaming the malls, I crossed this gym and what do you know, I got a message on my mobile. Was it a coincidence? It said, "Easy, easy, easy! Get your fat off easily!" I looked around suspiciously, was some friend secretly playing a practical joke upon me? "No need for exercise, yoga or fasting. Contact this number for a magic fat cure." I shuffled away quickly, feeling like a criminal Charlie Chaplin. I was forever marked by God. I was like Cain. I would roam the world and always be marked out because of my fat. Who is behind this conspiracy against us healthy people? Why do I get these health care magazines for free? I never subscribed to them. Why am I always getting calls and mails from gyms and body shops even from far away America? I discussed this with my editor. He is a wise man. He had an answer. He has made me an international reporter but only from starving nations. I am the newspaper's special correspondent for Haiti, Ethiopia, Somalia and the entire Sahara nations. Things are not going good for me here. The United Nations has a free cafeteria for journalists. I have put on five pounds. Whom the God's mark with fat cannot hide anywhere.