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.