If you don’t believe in fate then I’m going to find it rather tricky to explain the events of last Friday.
I was scrolling through my Facebook feed on my way to work, mindlessly, like every fellow passenger on the bus, when I saw an article my friend had shared, titled ,“Lindy West: My husband isn’t fat and that enrages people.”
I vaguely recognised West’s name, and, being a fat woman myself, the headline made me click instantly. Because, you know, it’s always good to see a fellow fat sister doing well for herself.
The article, published on The Pool, hit close to home. West explained how she was sitting at a bar with her now husband when a woman, who was a fan of her writing, came up and introduced herself. After a bit of chit-chat, the woman asked what it was like to work at home, was it lonely? West said no because, gesturing to Ahamefule Olou, her then soon-to-be husband, was home with her. Blankly, the lady said, “So, are you two roomates?”
“I wasn’t surprised that this woman took so many wilful leaps past “couple” and landed on “roommates” in her split-second sussing-out of our relationship – it happens all the time,” West wrote.