To call my aunt overweight or big-boned is a gross misrepresentation.

She is fat.

Even as an adult, I still cannot touch my fingertips together when I give her a hug.

I’m too scared to ask how many pounds that takes.

My family says she always has been that size. They say that only when she is not around.

If they didn’t tell me, I’d have no way of knowing. My aunt refuses to have her picture taken because of her weight.

But that’s not the only thing she won’t do.

She won’t go to the stage shows she loves. She won’t go to the movies. She won’t fly on a plane. The seats are too small, and she doesn’t want to take two.

The last time she flew, I was on the plane with her. We were assigned to separate rows, and I sat down before she was on the plane.

“I’m sure glad you’re sitting here instead of her,” the man next to me said, laughing as my aunt stepped on board.

I didn’t say anything.

My aunt walked by and I pressed on a no-teeth smile. She knew the man had said something. She understood.

I should have told him she has a medical condition. As a human being, she deserves more respect than that comment gave her.

I should have told him about how she has dieted and exercised for as long as I have known her, with more fervor than any person I’ve ever met, never taking a break, even on vacations or holidays.

I should have told him that between taking care of my grandparents financially and funding three of my cousins’ college educations, she simply cannot afford the medication she needs, medication her insurance does not cover.

But I didn’t.

I don’t blame the man on the plane, just like I don’t blame the people who stare at her on the street.

As a waitress for two years, I’ve stared at fat people, too.

But it seems unfair that as I sit in a restaurant eating dessert after a big meal, my aunt eats a side salad without dressing – and she is the one who gets the stares.

Sometimes she is so mortified by the glares in restaurants that she doesn’t even order.

It’s not just in eateries. In stores she can’t get service, and finding a taxi in the city is difficult. I can’t imagine how much higher on the corporate ladder she would be if she was a size six.

We are bombarded by warnings about the epidemic of obesity and told the depressing reports about the latest research.

We all know the risks: diabetes, heart failure, stroke, cancer, liver disease, premature death.

But I am left wondering which is worse: The health hazards of obesity or the vile judgment that comes from a large appearance?

People say they care about the health risks, but it seems like a way to insulate hatred. Ugh, fat people are so gross. They are just killing themselves.

We do not think about the emotional havoc that kind of acceptable prejudice brings.

If we genuinely cared about overweight people, we would stop judging them and start looking for ways to help, in the same way we do other physical limitations. We can’t judge them thin.

A University of Florida study polled 47 previously fat people on whether they would rather be fat again or face serious medical misfortune like blindness or leg amputation. Nine out of ten chose the latter.

“When you’re blind people want to help you,” one participant wrote. “No wants to help you when you’re fat.”

I’ve never asked my aunt if she feels that way – I’m too afraid of what she might say.

But I think I know the answer.

- Caitlin Byrnes is a news writer for The Red & Black.