“Khefy seha” [Try shedding a few kilos].
He told me as I waited for him to weigh the Nabulsi kunafa (cheese kunafa).
I went into the store as soon as I saw a sign that read “Syrian Nabulsi Kunafa.”
I love it so much.
It reminds me of when I was in Syria four years ago.

I looked at him.
It took me a minute to realize what he had said.
“Oh, you mean I should lose weight?” I asked.
I laughed.
I understand a little bit of Syrian.

We started chatting and joking around as soon as I entered the shop.
He kept staring at me.
It was obvious he liked me.
That’s why he told me that.
It was his way of flirting with me.

I should be open to advice from strangers just because I’m fat, right?
I shouldn’t be picky.
I should thank my lucky stars that a man advised me to lose a little weight just so he’d feel better about himself.
Because how could he like a fat woman?
He’s right, though. I should lose weight.
I’m very thankful for all the strangers that care about my weight and give me unsolicited advice.
I should be thankful to all the self-righteous losers
Who give themselves the right to tell me what to do with my body.

It doesn’t matter if I have a successful academic and personal life,
Or that I’m successful in my career.
Being smart and independent is not important,
Nor is travelling and loving life.
These are all trivial things.
They’re right.

I grew up with these comments.
I accepted the hurtful comments and condescending advice with a smile.
But I never would’ve imagined that I’d let her go through the same experience.

We were sitting with my older cousin at home,
When Malak, my 10-year-old niece, came in to show my cousin the necklace she made.
“It’s beautiful. Listen, Malak, I want you to promise me something, okay?”
He continued talking in the same patronizing tone without even waiting for her answer.
“I want you to promise me to stop having dinner. It’ll make you look like a different person in just one month.”

I observed them without saying anything.
I was speechless.
He looked so confident sitting on that chair,
While my niece was standing there like a convicted felon.
She had a blank look on her face.
She didn’t say a word.
She nodded her head in approval.

It felt like a slap on the face.
I started comparing us.
I wanted to run away.
Disappear.
Hide.
I looked at her.
At her rosy cheeks and wide eyes.
Yes, she’s a little chubbier than girls her age, but she wasn’t fat.
I wanted to run to her and tell her,
“Don’t listen to him.
Your body is not defined by kilograms and centimeters.
Your body does not define you.
You’re beautiful.
You’re more beautiful than you and others think.
You’re talented and smart.
Your value is not determined by a number on a scale or by your clothing size.”

But I didn’t say anything.
I knew she’d go through the same long and painful experience.
Until she grew up and started believing in herself and her beauty.
That’s when she’ll start wearing a poker face and isolating herself.
It’s when she’ll nod and laugh when a stranger tells her,
“Khefy seha."