J.E. Reich's previous work for The Toast can be found here.
The concepts of lightness and weight are very important to you. You refuse to buy a scale.
Every time you have sex in a bowler hat -- which is often -- you are struck with nostalgia concerning your Bohemian grandfather, who was also a mayor before the war. (Which war? THE War, of course.)
You frequently compare your wife to a baby found in a bulrush basket.
You write a ten-page horoscope for your boss. The Communist government immediately becomes very concerned.
If you have an affair with your professor, you are either gaudy or bespectacled.
It is expected that your husband will inevitably send you to a hill called Petrin, where you will encounter a near-suicide by a firing squad.
You compare your adolescent upbringing in the country and your mother's bawdy demeanor to being raised in a concentration camp, with no sense of self-awareness whatsoever.
Read more How to Tell If You’re in a Milan Kundera Novel at The Toast.
