YOU ARE STILL FAT, AUNTY!
- Apr 20
- 6 min read
No Matter How Many Layers, Lies, or Lipsticks You Use
A child shouted it.
And aunty flinched.
Not because it wasn’t true.
But because someone finally said what she’s been covering up with
Tight blouses,
Angle selfies,
Herbalife powders,
and forced laughter since 2009.
PART 1: HOW INDIAN AUNTIES HIDE THEIR FAT
Oh, the creativity!
If only this energy went into walking, not wiggling around truth.
1. THE ANGLE AUNTY
Every photo is from the top.
Head tilted. Chin forward.
Stomach sucked in so tight she hasn’t breathed since Dussehra.
2. THE DUPATTA COVER-UP
Magical cloth of invisibility!
Hides belly, arms, breasts, shame, and sometimes her child too.
3. THE BATHROOM MIRROR SELFIE
Takes it after 6 failed photos. Cropped just above the waist.
(But forgot the bathroom tap is still leaking.)
4. THE "I ONLY WEAR KURTIS" STRATEGY
Long, loose, shapeless kurtis with giant prints.
Disguise level: 8/10.
Reality: Still fat, now also looking like a sofa.
5. THE COLOUR PSYCHOLOGY TRICK
Navy blue. Always navy blue.
Because black was taken by the previous aunty.
She believes dark colours eat fat.
No, aunty. They just hide it. Badly.
6. THE SMALL-PURSE DISTRACTION
Carries a cute tiny purse that’s supposed to make her look bigger.
It works. Just not in the way she hoped.
7. THE SAREE BORDER CAMOUFLAGE
Thick border. Thin hope.
The border is louder than her denial.
The stomach still shows up uninvited.
8. THE ‘MERE NAZAR MAT LAGAO’ POST
Uploads photo.
Adds 7 filters.
Adds 2 Bible quotes.
Adds “No negativity please.”
Deletes comments that say “Looking healthy.”
9. THE BABY-FILTER SNAPCHAT MASK
Why be 40 and fat when you can be 22 and smooth-faced with rabbit ears?
10. THE SHALWAR ROLL-UP DECEPTION
Hides thighs under oversized salwars.
Rolls them up when eating, then forgets and blames tightness on weight loss.
PART 2: THE 1000 EXCUSES AUNTY USES TO AVOID RESPONSIBILITY
Aunty never accepts.
She rationalises. Spiritualises. Medicalises.
Anything but realises.
THE CLASSIC EXCUSES:
“It’s my metabolism.”
“My bones are heavy.”
“My family is like this only.”
“After C-section, body changed.”
“Doctor told me not to walk much.”
“I have gas problem, not fat.”
“I eat once a day only!”
“It’s PCOD.”
“My maid doesn’t cook properly.”
“I fasted yesterday.” (She means skipping snacks between 4 pm and 4:15 pm.)
THE EMOTIONAL BAIT:
“You only love me when I was slim?”
“Are you calling me unattractive now?”
“Why is weight so important? I have a good heart!”
“At least I’m not like those girls who wear crop tops with fat hanging out.”
THE SPIRITUAL WISDOM EXCUSE:
“I’m focusing on inner beauty.”
“The soul has no size.”
“Body is temporary. Don’t be materialistic.”
“Even Buddha had a belly.”
PART 3: THE NORMALISING TALKS SHE TELLS HERSELF AND OTHERS
To make herself feel better, aunty goes on a public service mission to convince the world that fat is not fat — it’s fine.
PHILOSOPHICAL FAT ACCEPTANCE QUOTES BY AUNTY:
“Health is not about size.”
“Real women have curves.”
“Thoda sa weight doesn’t matter if you’re happy.”
“Men don’t like sticks anyway.”
“I know thin girls who are always sick.”
AUNTY’S FAVORITE DIALOGUE AT FAMILY FUNCTIONS:
“Arey beta, look at me! I eat everything and still manage to walk!”
(Yes aunty, but your knees are filing for divorce.)
“Kya karein, age ho gaya hai na…”
(As if fat sneaks in with grey hair.)
“When you have children, you’ll understand.”
(Children: born with placenta and permission to blame for the next 25 years.)
“Main healthy lagti hoon na?”
(No aunty. You look exhausted in pink georgette.)
PART 4: THE DANGEROUS NORMALISING
This isn’t just about vanity.
It’s about health.
But Aunty has made fat a lifestyle — and surrounded it with:
Justifications
Bad science
Insecure positivity
And blind support from fellow aunties
Fat has become the new normal.
Fat has become fashionable.
Fat has become a joke.
Fat has become a filter.
But fat has not become healthy.
THE LAST SLAP FROM REALITY
Dear Aunty,
You have mastered every trick —
except the one that matters:
discipline.
You want applause for:
Not eating rice at dinner (but eating 4 rotis)
Walking 800 steps while gossiping
Switching to jaggery sweets
Wearing “shapewear” and calling it transformation
You want a crown for:
Denial
Drama
Distraction
But your joints don’t lie.
Your sweat doesn’t lie.
Your pantyline marks don’t lie.
Your tired breath on stairs doesn’t lie.
Your child, pointing and saying “You are fat,” doesn’t lie.
THE HERMIT’S LAST WORDS
You can’t hide health.
Not with a saree.
Not with filters.
Not with angry Facebook comments.
You are still fat, aunty.
Because you chose the comfort of lies over the pain of truth.
You are not being judged.
You are being offered freedom.
From your excuses.
From your costumes.
From the circus.
Now go.
Take off your dupatta.
Stand under the sun.
And walk till your body remembers what it feels like to breathe without pretending.
----
Here is a gentle healing dialogue between Madhukar the Hermit and a kind but emotionally tired middle-aged woman, referred to throughout her community as “the fat aunty.” It takes place on a quiet morning under a neem tree near Madhukar’s mud hut.
---
CHARACTERS
Meenakshi (Fat Aunty) – 46 years old, warm-hearted, bloated with emotional pain, tired of pretending.
Madhukar – The hermit, gentle yet brutally truthful, who heals with words.
---
SCENE
Meenakshi sits on the stone bench, adjusting her saree. Her eyes avoid Madhukar’s. She wipes her sweat, but it keeps returning. Madhukar sits cross-legged, silent, watching the leaves move in the wind.
---
Meenakshi:
I didn’t come for advice, Madhukarji.
I just needed air. My blouse doesn’t fit again. I feel like a balloon with gold earrings.
Madhukar (smiling gently):
The wind never asks your size, Meenakshi.
Sit. Breathe. You’re safe here.
Meenakshi (lowering voice):
They call me “fat aunty” behind my back. Even the children.
I laugh along, but… inside, it stings like salt on a wound.
Madhukar:
That sting is honesty, dressed as insult.
But tell me — do you truly believe you are only fat?
Meenakshi:
No… I am kind, hardworking, funny sometimes.
But yes, I am also… heavy.
Not just in body. In heart.
Madhukar:
Yes.
This weight — it is not just rice and roti.
It is unspoken grief, unused strength, unexpressed anger.
You’ve been eating emotions, not food.
Meenakshi (tears welling up):
I eat when I’m tired. I eat when no one listens.
I eat because no one asks if I’m okay.
Food became my friend.
But it’s made me a stranger to myself.
Madhukar (softly):
And yet, here you are. Brave enough to admit it.
That is the first fast — the fast from lies.
---
A LONG SILENCE. THE NEEM LEAVES WHISPER. A COW MOOS IN THE DISTANCE.
---
Madhukar:
Can I tell you a secret, Meenakshi?
Your body is not your enemy.
It has carried your children.
It has stood in the kitchen for 20 years.
It has bent for blessings, climbed stairs, wiped tears.
It never asked for perfection.
Only respect.
Meenakshi (voice shaking):
Then why did I treat it like a cupboard?
Stuffing it with food, guilt, and silence?
Madhukar:
Because you were never taught to feel.
Only to feed.
And now the cupboard is full.
It’s time to clean it.
---
HEALING ADVICE FROM MADHUKAR
Madhukar:
No crash diets. No powders. No drama.
Just truth and practice.
1. Eat only when you feel real hunger.
(Not boredom. Not sadness. Not routine.)
2. Walk every morning before sunrise.
(Alone. Let the wind listen to your thoughts.)
3. Sit with your emotions.
(Write them. Talk to them. Don’t chew them.)
4. Wear what feels light. Not what hides.
(Saree is not a tent. It is grace.)
5. Drink warm water after meals.
(Not colas. Not coffee. Not complaints.)
6. Rest well. Without screen. Without guilt.
7. Love your body as a sacred home, not a showroom.
---
Meenakshi (whispers):
What if I fail again?
Madhukar:
Then fail honestly.
Cry, get up, and walk again.
But don’t lie to yourself.
The body forgives.
But the lie rots inside like fungus.
---
CLOSING SCENE
Meenakshi stands up. She is still heavy. But lighter than when she arrived.
She folds her dupatta with care. This time, not to hide. But to carry the truth.
---
Madhukar (smiling):
You are not fat, Meenakshi.
You are full.
Now it’s time to become empty — the beautiful kind of empty,
where space returns,
and life begins again.
---
