Chapter 1: A refugee from a BIG family

So it all started with a war. My parents met as teenagers in their equivalent of high school back in 1991 in a village high in the mountains. My mom had grown up in a wealthy family, and was a robust 120 kilograms which my 100 kilo father found adorable. The war started shortly after graduation, and they lost all of their family in our homecountry. My father who believed in non-violence was called to fight a war no one wanted at age 18. He was a tall, strapping man who outlived all of his comrades through luck and grace of god. My mom made it through by hiding in a cave. By the time war ended in 1995 my six foot one mother was a mere 120 pounds; my father was still about 30 pounds heavier but did have five inches on her. Like ghosts despite being just 22, they wanted to leave and make a new life when reacquainting at a farmers market after armistice. They both filed for asylum which was granted and moved to the United States to forge a new life. A few more twists of fate and they found work papers and a small rent controlled mother in law in Berkeley, California. Speaking no Spanish, and almost no English, both found the best opportunities were in fast food.

Both of my parents loved living in this new land of plenty, and filled their stomachs every meal. My mom became pregnant a month after arriving in the US, and was chastised by her doctor for being underweight at 125 pounds. The doctor told her that for a six foot plus woman she should gain between 28 and forty pounds to have a healthy pregnancy. Her English still not very good she thought he meant kilograms, and told my dad they needed to eat more! During regular check-ups the doctor initially thought he should not comment on her rapid weight gain, but did say something about slowing it down when she had gained 30 pounds at week 16. (But it’s not like 157 is all that heavy for six feet tall.) My father was also enjoying America’s bounty and was slowly filling out himself. By the time my brother was born my 189 pound mom outweighed my 187 pound father, although neither were technically overweight. Their new life was filled with taking care of my brother, work, and yes food. My sister was born a little more than a year later; mom had filled in to a still not obese 240 pounds trailing my overweight 6’6 dad at 260 pounds. By the time I came along a couple years later in 2004, my parents weight had stabilized at 360 pounds each and people frequently misjudged my siblings for being far older than their biological age on account of their size. Due to the active nature of their work, let’s just say that my parents always had very impressive appetites.

Growing up I liked fast food, too, but also got into sports which kept me relatively slim. During the pandemic I could not play soccer or basketball, so got into running. By the time I graduated from high school I was 5’9 and a mere 140 pounds. My parents joked that I was their American daughter because I was so short and skinny. My brother played college football (the roster at Stanford said 6’7 and 300 pounds) and by the time he was 26 he was a soft cuddly 350; my 6’2 sister played Volleyball at Berkeley for two seasons until medically disqualified due to her blossoming weight. She entered Freshman year at 220 pounds, and let’s just say really enjoyed the cafeteria gaining the Freshman fifteen each semester and at 280 could not really keep up with the game. (Plus she kept on inadvertently injuring teammates on account of her size: when she landed on the ankle of her “wee 5’11 170 pound” teammate it’s not surprising that it broke, or that one time at USC where she broke the wrist of the midget libero.) At least by that point she qualified for an academic scholarship on account of her near perfect grades. The big benefit of Berkeley is that my brother found a long-term girlfriend who played with my sister; she was 6’4 and I’d guess 200 pounds at graduation…three years later she had filled out a bit. I had more of a division III athlete body, and decided to do Peace Corps before matriculating at Pomona College.

I filled out the application, and it asked basic questions like my education level, my age, my height and weight, whether I was particularly religious or had dietary constraints. I tried to give good answers, but honestly fudged my weight by ten pounds and said I was 150. (Being so skinny is a little embarrassing!) They also asked if I had any geographical preferences, and I said someplace near a beach sounded fun! A few weeks later I received an acceptance letter to be a teen health coordinator in the tiny South Pacific nation of Samoa. I’d be placed with a local family, and get to learn the culture which sounded super fun! All I had to do was complete the 12 weeks of initial training in the capital city before heading to my host family in the country.