A little background and/or context.
I was not raised in the United States, and all joking aside, I really didn’t have a weight problem before we moved back here.
“But Anna, how can you blame an entire country (and/or region depending on how you use the term ‘America’) for your weight problem?”
Well. Let me tell you why.
Many moons ago this was me:
I know. Adorable. I mean, you can practically hear me thinking, “pssh. Yeah. I know I’m the shiznit.”
Now here’s me in the context of my childhood:
One of these is not like the others. And another one of these is going to play in the WNBA – I mean for reals, look at the girl in the yellow hat. She’s got hops.
Anyway, I stuck out like a sore thumb. And apparently never understood field day, but that’s not the point. In the town we lived in when I was a little itty bit, I stood out so much that I could get in a taxi cab and say, “take me home.” And they would. When we went to the market people would flock around me and give me free gifts like flowers and candy. People would take my picture, pet my head, and fawn all over me. Seriously.
Now, keep in mind, I had no concept of the fact that I was white, or blonde, or different in any way. So in my mind all of these interactions affirmed a truth that I lived my life by: “I’m adorable! Look how they love me! The whole world must center around my awesomeness!”
Needless to say, I’m prone to grandiose thinking, which often leads to dramatic statements. So, it’s much more my style to say something like “America made me fat,” vs, “a new culture full of a variety of unhealthy foods that are easily accessible, puberty, poor lifestyle choices, and reality made me fat.”