Why are Indians so obsessed with weight?

Maybe this is why I haven't been back in so long....

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Post temple calm….sadly it wont last!

I’ve just come back from India with my parents. It’s been a while since I’ve been - 6 years actually. And in that time, I’d forgotten just how blunt South Asian culture can be, especially when it comes to appearance. It’s not unusual to mention weight within a minute of seeing somebody. Or to tell them they look old, or tired or mention THE THING you really don’t want them to talk about, whatever that might be. Nothing is off limits.

Each time this happened, it felt like a bizarre out of body experience - it’s just not the done thing in our society. Oddly, though The West colonised so many places, and changed so much, the one legacy they didn’t seem to leave was the concept of politeness. Whether that’s a good or bad thing is up for debate - and I’d love to know your thoughts and experiences too - but each time this happened to me, I was shocked, slightly offended and amused at the same time.

Here’s a small selection of those comments I received, and my genuine immediate inner monologue each time.

I PAID for a massage. I capitalised that to emphasise how much I wanted a nice relaxing treat without speaking, but that was not to be. During said massage the therapist revealed her age, and asked mine and it was similar. But she didn’t leave the comparison there: “You look much younger than I do, but I’m thinner than you,” she said as she pummelled the sh*t out of my back.

Honestly, my jaw dropped. I just wanted a nice de-stress before dinner FFS. Now my brain was forced into overdrive to defend myself. I could launch into a diatribe on the history of colonisation and weight shaming. I could tell her my value and beauty lies within, and that I don’t use thinness as a measure of beauty or health. I could tell her that I want her to shut the fuck up - so many options. But then the massage ended - and despite the ill-advised chat, she was really good.

I saw a great aunt I hadn’t seen since my last visit. Her first remark: “Are you married yet?” My mum interjected - “No she’s not…we’ve given up.” Talk about being thrown under the bus. Thankfully the chat turned to other people and things. But as we prepared to leave my great aunt finished with “I’m 84, please get married before I die!” No pressure then?

Honestly, being single is on my mind a lot more than I’d want to admit - so my great aunt saying this was not fun. On top of that, I legit - like so many single people - feel so done with dating culture and apps. I don’t subscribe to the whole ‘the good ones are all taken’ lament -  I’ve got enough married pals to see that some great ones are taken, but some shit ones are too. Brutal, but true.

Also, my great aunt has no idea what I’m dealing with on several levels here. Dating is a nightmare at the moment. App fatigue has hit everyone collectively. Cities like London/NY etc have more women than men, because more women are going to university than men and are getting better jobs etc. As such, millenial men - sorry for the massive generalisation here - seem to be having some kind of collective identity crisis. I’ve lost track of the amount of guys I've dated who have deep seated issues about their success compared to women, so if you’re even vaguely successful, stylish or interesting, you’re deemed threatening or out of their league. Let’s not even add the race part into this - that’s a huge can of worms I haven't got the energy for right now.

Does my great aunt care about all of this? Not a jot. She probably won’t entertain my laments in poorly spoken Tamil. So for now, my monologue goes unheard. My mum delivers the final blow: “We could have found you somebody to marry, but you’re too old for that now.” My great aunt seems to almost have my back here, she turns to my mum and says: “You’ve put on a lot of weight - do you have diabetes yet?”...

I just want to eat my thali in peace ffs

During another family meal, an aunty looks me up and down, then pipes up: “Your hair is thinning - you should use some hibiscus oil.”

Tell me something I don’t know - honestly I was just trying to eat my dosa in peace. Does my aunt care that I’ve been struggling with health issues  and I’ve just had a hashimoto diagnosis which is an underactive thyroid, and one of the symptoms has been hair loss. No she does not. Does she care that the hair loss stresses me out? Not at all. Does she care that I’m too exhausted from said condition to even respond and when anyone asks how I am my immediate response is “ feel like semi-alive roadkill.” No, she does not.

Annoyingly, I’ve actually got lots of noticeable new hair growth, but my hard work from various potions and scalp micro rolling don’t seem to matter. She carries on dishing out her advice that is part ayurveda, part batshittery, before being distracted by the arrival of something new to the dinner table. I am saved by a bitter gourd - not something I'd ever thought I’d say…

Nothing keeps me out of the sun….

To end with, here’s a classic. It was fired at my mum by a distant older relative who popped by for tea, but it was aimed at me. This relative asked my mum: “Why is she so dark?”

As Lady Gaga’s ‘Born This Way’ starts to play in my mind, I ask myself the same question. Why am I so dark? Well, I try to get some daylight every day, for vitamin D because people with dark skin often have lower levels of it because it’s harder for it to penetrate our skin and synthesise, so that might be why.

I don't use any lightning skincare crap, or wear lighter foundation, so there’s that.

I’m also the exact same colour as my mum - so if you want an answer to that question, look at her (and my entire South Indian lineage.) Here again, I haven’t got the fight in me to bring up the history of colourism and how much I object to it. My mum, yet again throws me to the rabid lions: “It’s this yellow dress she’s wearing, the colour doesn’t suit her.” Then chat moves onto my clothes, then clothes in general, and I am left in peace once more.    

Love and exhaustion….

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