“You have such a rounded figure,” someone very close to me remarked recently. It was in reference to my recent weight gain. “There is stiff competition,” said another pointing at my cousin who is also a bit plump.

We laughed and we all nodded. But I didn’t feel good.

“It is just a joke,” I told myself. But deep down, the words settled. It nagged me time and again. It showed its ugly face when I sat down for dinner or for lunch. It echoed in my head when I reached out to my coffee mug, and it especially hurt when I saw my favourite food.

It happened when we were at our favourite restaurant recently. We settled in our usual table and ordered “the usual”. Our food arrived in no time but I couldn’t focus. My mind was busy calculating the number of calories I was going to gobble. “This food will find its way and store itself in my body and will prompt someone to make another stupid joke out of it,” I thought.

Sid, my 12-year-old son, caught me staring and as if reading my mind, he said, “Mum, everything is not about calories. You should also enjoy food.”

He knew how I felt about food these days and he always did his best to calm me. Yes, Sid was right. But I couldn’t stand those silly comments disguised in the form of jokes that were hurled at me.

Long before I became what I am, there was another phase. A phase where I was on the other end of the spectrum. I was called a stick. But back then, in my village where I grew up, thin meant undernourished. So invariably I had many older women tell me that I had to eat well. “Clothes hang on you like they do on a clothes hanger,” the women reprimanded.

I fumed at those words, but nobody dared to talk back. So when my neighbour told me that she could see only my eyes and teeth, I had to just nod and say I would eat more. It was that simple. But then, who knew at that time that everything would change in future?

Two years ago cancer hit me. It changed me physically and emotionally. I made many trips to the hospital for treatments and follow ups. Life after cancer is tricky. It teaches a thing or two and gives you a new perspective. As various medicines and steroids streamed into my system, I could see the scales tilt. The T-shirts that I loved were given away to charity. My wardrobe was overhauled. I wore clothes that were at least two sizes bigger.

Out of the mouths of babes

Sid’s voice snapped me out of my reverie. “Mum, this is delicious,” he said, nudging me. My muddled thoughts refused to go away. “Nobody actually knows how much fat on a person is fat,” I told Sid thoughtfully, “Cruel comments come by whether you are thin or not,” I remarked to no one in particular.

“Mom, firstly, you are not fat and secondly, you are healthy. Isn’t that the most important thing?” he asked me matter of factly, with a glint of a smile on his face. That minute, everything evaporated. I bit my lips and suddenly tears gripped me. I laughed to blink away my tears. I high-fived my son, sent a silent prayer to the heavens and got down to eating.

There are many simple truths in life that you know in your heart, but you acknowledge them only when they are voiced by a kid. Yes. It is never about how I look. It is only about how I feel, and that I found out two years ago. If only I had thought of this when someone called me rounded! I guess there are some things you find out late and to celebrate my new understanding we ordered ice cream!

Sudha Subramanian is a Dubai-based author and freelance writer.