When Cultures Collide

Yesterday was Mother's Day, so I saw a lot of family. I was barraged by comments about my weight loss. My family, especially my grandpa, wanted me to do something about my obese sister Kiki. What they didn't know was that there really isn't anything I can do but be a role model and wait for her to come to me. They just don't understand all the psychological baggage that comes with being fat in this society. It must be different in the Philippines.

These were the other comments they have made...

The funniest comment was being called “sexy” by my dad and aunt. Then my dad proceeded to tell me to “teach your sister to be sexy too.” It seemed really inappropriate coming from my dad, considering that in the American culture “sexy” normally means wearing suggestive clothing and acting in a seductive way. But for my relatives “sexy” was another way of saying “skinny”. My sister Jen and I had a good laugh, since she has often been called “sexy”, despite her flat-chested, stick-like figure covered in conservative clothing.

The most unusual comment came from my grandmother who's struggling with the notion that being overweight was a bad thing. In her day back in the Philippines where poverty and starvation was part of the scenery, it was better to have more weight on you, but her beliefs are in conflict with her weight-related diseases she currently have. Yesterday, her eyes furrowed as she started to express her disapproval but stopped mid-sentence to say "It's okay, but don't lose anymore!" She was practically forcing the words out! Poor Grandma. She's stuck in the past.

The least welcomed comment came from my grandfather-in-law. Back when I was gaining the weight. Before I was ever pregnant. My grandfather-in-law had made fun of me. He would blow up his cheeks and chest and put out his arms to mimic my fatness. Even when I knew there were cultural differences, I was totally hurt. Well yesterday, he complimented me on my weight loss, saying that I had "persevered". Then much to my sister-in-laws' dismay, he talked about how once they were fat and had "persevered" (by the way, they were never "fat"). He blew up his cheeks and chest and put out his arms to make his point (since there was also a language barrier), and I couldn’t help remembering back then when he had made fun of me and my hurt feelings came flooding back, along with my dislike of him. Why can't I forgive him? He wasn't making fun of me. I know there's a cultural barrier. So why? It's so strange.