My friend Cole tells me it’s my own fault that I’m fat. He says, “Hey, Kata, it’s easy! Just eat less and you’ll lose weight!” I’ve been hearing that for most of my adult life, from friends and family and well-meaning strangers in restaurants or department stores. All these slim to normal-sized people who think staying slim is as easy as saying “no.”

When I was 20, I was hot. I wore hip-hugger mini-skirts with platform sandals and tiny tube tops that left little to the imagination, and I heard catcalls everywhere I went. And I ate ravenously. You see, when you are young, you can eat anything you want — ice cream, hot dogs, pizza and as much beer as you can swizzle down your gullet. And you don’t get fat.

But now I wear baggy T-shirts and stretch pants because when you are older, like me, you have to watch everything you eat and every food has a number value — whether it’s in carbohydrates or calories or fat grams. And I was never very good at math.

For those of us who can’t do it alone, there are a million diet programs out there that are ready to take our money. Some of them even offer personal weight counselors to help us work toward “Baywatch” babe status, but I find myself wanting to hurt them.

I dream about performing reverse liposuction on them by injecting lard into their slim, little bodies, giving them breasts that fall out of tube tops and hips that cannot be distinguished from waists and feet that simply must be housed in sturdy flat shoes.

Kim, my personal weight loss counselor, was just a wispy, little thing; a lucky gene recipient who was born thin and had no idea what it felt like to be me. But if I lost weight, she earned a commission. It reminded me a lot of a used car lot where only the salesman gets a deal.

I resented having to pay a weight loss center to help me lose weight, but I really resented Kim. Not for being thin (I was happy for her), but for believing that she was thin because she was somehow smarter than me. The reality is that people like me are overweight for many other reasons than bad eating habits and no self-discipline, although few people (including Kim) believe that.

In defense of fat women everywhere, I am proposing that anyone who wants to give advice to their overweight friends should be required to complete an internship before being released onto fat society.

In a perfect world, my skinny interns would have to wear fat pads (say, 60-100 pounds worth?) under their brand new fat-lady clothes, all day and all night for a month. Flowered muumuus and tent dresses are in this season.

Interns couldn’t just sit around watching soaps with other girlfriends. They would have to go out on dates (if they got asked), go to the gym to exercise and do all the home chores (including mowing the lawn, shopping for groceries, going to the laundromat) as fat chicks.

They would have to give up every food they love and, instead, eat dry flaked tuna with a celery stick for lunch.

They could nibble on a small piece of baked chicken with a side of lettuce (no dressing) for dinner. And, for breakfast, they could treat themselves to a half-slice of toasted wheat bread (no butter) with a poached egg on the side. No midnight snacks.

Just thinking about that tasty menu makes my mouth water.

Oh, and meanwhile, they’d have to go out to Pizza Hut or Burger King with their friends and watch them eat.

Now, I’m not denying total responsibility here; I do overeat at times. But why? Because I’m an idiot? Consider that the weight loss industry is a major moneymaker. Millions of dollars are made by these companies whose sole aim is to help us lose weight. You could think of it as being in America’s best economic interests for the majority of Americans to be overweight.

In fact, even the food industry is in on it. You’ve seen the food on television, in magazines, on billboards: messy, dripping hamburgers and luscious chocolate sundaes and steaming pizzas. Good for you? No, good for America.

From early youth, we (including you, Twiggy) are slowly, unwittingly indoctrinated into the eating patterns of overweight adults. It’s for America. And so my weight counselor Kim can buy more designer clothes from Younkers.

While I will never qualify for “Baywatch” casting calls, I am still determined to look more like Oprah on a bad day than Aunt Betty on her best day down on the farm. So I eat dry tuna from a can while my younger friends pig out on Taco Bell.

I can handle that. But enough with the advice from people who have never struggled with their weight. In America, it could soon be you getting the advice.

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Kata Alvidrez is a graduate student in English from Los Angeles, California.