One of the things I was seriously worried about when I moved back home was that I would put on a lot of weight and become a big FAT mama. I would be walking less and driving around a lot more. I would be eating less healthily; I knew for a fact that I would indulge myself in all my favourite starchy and oily foods. I only hoped that I would not indulge myself too much. I also knew that chances were that I would hit the gym less, after all who wants to sit in traffic for perhaps an hour to and then fro just to spend the same hour working out? Not me, I didn’t think.
Well, I have become somewhat used to the traffic (I still hate it with a vengeance, but what can you do?). I have found a gym that works for me. However, I am not as slim as I used to be. While I am yet to become the enormous woman that I thought I might be, the weight has crept on all the same. For a start, I am definitely partaking of a lot more of the types of food that would make most dieticians keel over in shock. Never having been so keen on eating fruits or vegetables to start off with, I am definitely eating even less now (This is sheer laziness on my part. I find the washing and peeling that goes with eating fruits simply too bothersome). The hours added to my drive by going to the gym have become a huge disincentive to going (especially now in the rainy season and having to deal with the ever-worsening roads).
Despite it all though, I think I have done fairly well with my fitness regime – well, perhaps "well" is not an entirely accurate way to describe my efforts; more like "could have been worse." Anyway, my clothes (mostly) fit me and when I encounter some discomfort, I can typically explain it away with "Well, everyone knows (cough, cough) that ankara shrinks when you first wash it"; "It was time to throw out that outfit anyway"; "The label did say that it might shrink when washed." You get the generally idea. It was the clothes shrinking and not my girth expanding. And I lived quite happily in this state of bliss, until I recently went for a work-related meeting one day at an oil company and ran into an ex-corper friend of mine who works there now.
After the greetings he beheld me with a critical eye and commented, "Wow! You have really added weight oh!"
I barely held my disbelief in check.
- "What???", I exclaimed.
- "Yes, oh! You are much bigger than you were during service year."
I was staggered that someone would offer a (totally!!) unsolicited and potentially crushing review of one’s appearance in such a cavalier manner. Didn’t he realize that this bit of news could drive some women to low self-esteem and an eating disorder? (I will admit that I am given to occasional bouts of melodrama).
He continued, "You better be careful or else you will just become bigger and bigger until one day you look at yourself in the mirror and see that you’ve just become so fat."
I thanked him for his concern with a sarcasm that I know was totally missed. I later retold the story to my friends and sister and we laughed about it. I really should thank him because I think I needed that reality check. 'Good enough' isn’t working for me as well as I would like to think.