In 2001 Victor LaValle wrote about his life as a fat man.
Every woman wanted me out before dawn. There seemed to be a general
agreement amongst them that I would never be allowed to spend the night. There
was great shame in being rushed to collect one's clothes, ushered to the door,
unceremoniously led out. I often felt they wanted me gone before their
neighbors came out to see me lumber awkwardly down the hall. It was a dull,
distant humiliation, but on the train back to my mother's house or the next day
on the bus up to Ithaca,
I assured myself that it had been a good time.
