Public’s gaze weighs heavy

FAT SUIT CHALLENGES OUR PERCEPTIONS

DID you see a fat man wandering through Newcastle city centre?

I know many people did. I caught them all staring.

To set the scene, I’m a 5ft 8in man who – objectively speaking – is fairly slim. But thanks to Newcastle College, on this particular afternoon, I looked like I weighed at least 30st. My trousers had a 70-inch waist and I could fit the whole of my normal body inside one leg.

The reason for this? I was wearing a £1,000 bariatric suit, used by the college to teach healthcare students how to care for people of this size and to try and provoke empathy for their situation.

An admirable objective, but would it realistically work?

I would imagine college students having a right laugh trying on the suit – we think the idea of fat as intrinsically funny.

From the days of yore (or at least when films were in black and white) there was Oliver Hardy – especially when standing next to Stan Laurel — – and Albert from the Will Hay films, and their more modern counterparts – think Mr Creosote (“it’s waffer thin”), Johnny Vegas, and Mike Myers in a fat suit in the Austin Powers films.

To start with, being in the suit was funny. Falling over and trying to get up, only to find myself unable to properly reach the ground, had me feeling like a turtle on its back.

But the fun was to soon come to a rather unsettling end.

Heading out of the specialist recreation of a hospital’s care ward – after being shown how to correctly get a large person up (rock and roll yourself on to your front, bring your knees up and, if possible, pull yourself up using a chair) – and in to public, namely Northumberland Street.

More practical problems soon arose; bending down to put on shoes (when I couldn’t even see my feet), getting in and out of a car and putting on a seatbelt around my ample frame.

I was not prepared for how much I would get stared at. People’s faces contorted with looks of disgust, intrigue and astonishment. To start with, I took some solace in trying to meet their gaze and watch as they tried to swiftly rearrange their expression into something other than a gawp.

However, the sheer volume of people who couldn’t resist looking at me, like a freak at a circus, very quickly wore me down – it was horrendous. I soon found myself gazing at the floor, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and sadness.

Back at the college, after plodding up five flights of stairs, I had a chance to reflect on the experience, without shoppers’ piercing and judgemental gazes. Obviously, there are worse things that can happen than being stared at, but as a teaching aid to build empathy, the suit was excellent. It was an eyeopening and humbling experience, and it is with a certain amount of shame to realise the gulf in understanding – or lack of thought I gave – of both the social and practical problems extremely large people face.

Ultimately, if this suit helps the healthcare professionals treat larger patients with more dignity, then it’s worth its weight in gold.