Fat.

It had to happen sometime.

And it finally did.

In Rwanda, where many people live on far less food in a day than we usually eat for dinner, it is a high value for women to be somewhat "fat". It means you're well-fed, you're not too poor, you're probably married and have a nice life, and the weight carries a little authority with it. When a woman has fleshy arms (horrors!), Rwandese men love to squeeze it a bit.

But of course we American and other western women don't want to be included in that category of beauty. Two of my housemates put on considerable weight here in Rwanda from all the carbs in the Rwandese diet - rice, pasta, potatoes, plantains, etc., and the fat jokes abounded to ease their misery. One of them in particular is a tall basketball player with long red hair. She's pretty big-boned and the weight came easily. But Rwandese thought she was so fantastic (and she's definitely a strikingly beautiful girl) and she got lots of approving arm-squeezes. A week before she returned to Boston, she sighed, "My last week of being a Rwandese supermodel..."

And then there was the time when these two women met our Rwandese colleague Benjamin's new fiancee, who is about my size 2. "Oh!" they gushed, "She's so gorgeous! Congratulations!"

To which Benjamin responded, "Yes, she's beautiful, but I wish she would get FAT like you two!"

And when I went to confession my first month with a Spanish Opus Dei priest, his closing exhortation betrayed how long he's lived in neighboring Uganda:

"Believe me, my dear, you are going to be so happy here that your biggest problem is that you'll get fat."

I was determined not to let this weight burden happen to me. All of you who were with me during the 2007 Svelte Report days will understand the seriousness of it. This is critical, folks. It was a relief to see the stress weight I'd built up before coming (all 5 pounds of it!) fall right off after my arrival here.

Then yesterday the bombshell dropped. Our young friend Denis, 19 years old, frank and innocent, looks at me in yucky shorts and a rather unflattering top and says approvingly, "Christine, you are bigger! You are fat! This is good!"

Omigoodness.

If I didn't know for sure this wasn't true I'd be devastated. But that's the last time I let a Rwandese guy see me in my shorts. Yessir.