Tale of a Chubby Asian Girl

My parents came over in 1975 from Vietnam with nothing but the determination to work hard to provide for our family. Because they worked long hours, I spent a lot of time with my grandfather. Money was always tight so fast food was the only option for eating out. My grandfather and I shared a love for McDonald’s. Being
one of his favorite grandchildren, he took me img_2018there pretty often. At the age of 5, I could eat two Big Macs. Thus, you could imagine how chubby I was growing up. Even though I am an only child, I grew up around a lot of female cousins that fit your typical stereotype…petite, skinny Asian girls. It was hard for me to understand why I would eat the same thing or even less but seem to gain a pound for every bite I put into my mouth. It wasn’t until I turned 30 that I learned about “metabolism” (which I will discuss in a later blog). Growing up, my cousins in their size 4 jeans were constantly praised by the family for their beauty while I felt like an outcast in my size 10. Though a size 10 is average according to American standards, it is overweight by Asian standards. My family can be my toughest critics and I became the star of all family fat jokes as talking about someone’s weight is common in Asian cultures. The intention is meant to be helpful not hurtful, however it’s not the easiest to hear on the receiving end. Eventually, I learned to accept that it was my destiny to be overweight.

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