Chinese women are twigs, and I’m, umm, not. Recently we emerged from the train station into People’s Square in Shanghai and were photographed four times before we could get a single shot of our family. It’s killing me to think how many photo albums I look fat in. At least there’s no Facebook in China—Dude, check out the pics: What do you call two huge Americans on an e-bike? Three cheers for Communism coughsnort.

Before coming here, I watched a documentary in which a worker in a Chinese clothing factory held up a pair of pants he’d just sewn together, clearly stunned at a waist size that would have accommodated himself and a friend. Through an interpreter he said, “Americans are big. They need big pants,” It’s true, most Americans are bigger than the Chinese, and would remain so even if we all ran marathons every summer. But there’s also the niggling fact that a McDonalds cheeseburger is faster and cheaper than whipping up a salmon steak and a fruit salad. Americans love fast and cheap, which would be why we ask a little Chinese guy to sew our giant pants, and call him weightist when he doesn’t try to hide his frank amazement

Read More