Letters by Kenny Mah

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You tell me you’re getting fatter

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December 23, 2016

Hey you,

When you showed me pictures from your younger days, bemoaning the loss of the slim physique you possessed back then, I tell you, “No, that’s too skinny. You didn’t look good then; you looked like a drug addict. I like you as you are now.”

When you tell me you are getting fatter, I tell you, “No, no. You’re not getting fatter. Still the same. Really. Anyhow, I like you as you are now.”

Then one day you come home and tell me that your colleagues told you you have put on weight. You tell me your old classmates at your primary school reunion said you looked more “prosperous” than your photographs on Facebook. You tell me you can’t button your work pants…

…and I tell you, “Maybe that’s what they see when they look at you. Maybe your work pants have shrunk in the wash. Maybe that’s all true. But, to me, whether you are skinnier or fatter, older or whatever, you always look the same to me. You look like the one I adore more than anyone else in the world. And so, as ever, I like you as you are now. I always will.”

Yours always and always,

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