I once had a relationship with a tiny birdlike lady with a daughter who suffered from morbid obesity. It wasn't the mother's fault, or the daughter's. I lived with them about a year and I saw firsthand how little Christy (her name) ate. Yet she was almost round as a beachball, poor thing. She was a member of WeightWatchers and I would drive her to her meetings, and tried to encourage her to walk with me around the neighborhood block, the works. If she lost five pounds in a month, she was delirious with happiness. She had plans to be a movie producer and loved filming events, and I loved the sparkle in her dark eyes. But one day her mother walked into her bedroom and found her dead in bed. She died due to natural causes brought on by obesity. She was 13 years old.