Well, since I haven’t written much about The fat diaries in a while, or sat moaning and belting out how fat I am, I thought I would today.
I stood on the scale this morning. After that I heaved myself heavily into the bath. The water rose by an inch or two, I think. I didn’t measure. I gazed down my E’s to my quivering tummy, that incidentally Aidan used to lather with soap when he was younger and use it as a slide, and then I searched. I searched to the left. I searched to the right. Where was my beaver?
and then it hit me…..
I haven’t seen her in years in the bath. My tummy is too big. Even when lying flat. Shame poor thing, in the dark like that.
I stood up. Towel dried and there she was. Like a big fat Volksie Bonnet emerging from a car wash. In the shade of First, Second and Third Stomach. But not too shabby herself, weight wise.
So in conclusion, should you ever have wondered one fine summer’s day, if fanny’s put on weight, then I can tell you unequivocally, that YES, my dear, they do!
Since this is called The Fat Diaries, I’d like to elaborate on a passionate subject of mine related to weight and body image.
The subject being: CONFIDENCE
I have this mantra I live by. Whatever you do, do it with confidence. Repeat after me, Whatever you do, do it with confidence.
To use a well-loved phrase of my Dad’s, even though I’m built like a Solid Brick Shit-House, I never let my weight hold me back from doing things.
You know the huge obese fat person swimming and frolicking merrily in the waves of a December afternoon in the sweltering Summer heat? That’s me. You know the fat fuck that laughs uproariously as she belts it down a slide at iShaka in Durban? That’s me.
You know the mom that swims with her kids in the pool while the other moms try to disguise their shock and horror on their loungers on the side of the pool? That’s me.
In my heart I’m thinnish. In my soul I’m nimble and sexy and capable. What must I do? So I do the things I want to do…with relish and aplomb.
So stuff you, and the horse you rode in on, should you judge me!
The other day we were chatting. I asked the thinner girls what they weighed? Their faces expressed absolute shock and horror at revealing their weight. I must admit I was shocked, I thought thin girls hung around and bandied about their weight ad nauseam. I though it was common knowledge and thin girls discussed it quiet openly.
When I’m thin one day I’m going to be open about my weight. In fact my conversations are going to go like this:
“Do you want a cup of coffee?”
“54kgs” I’ll reply
‘No, I asked if you wanted coffee?” sigh of exasperation!
” Did you watch Desperate Housewives last night?”
“No, I asked if you watched Desperate Housewives last night” ill-disguised irritation!
“My ranunculus’ and Agapanthus’ are flowering beautifully this season. Have your roses started showing yet?”
“54kg’s” I’ll reply.
“tsk” spat out through tightly clenched teeth!
The last few days have had me mulling over something. What makes some people thin and some people fat? Others can eat what they like and others(like me) look at food and gain a few kilograms. Obviously the intake versus excercise, blah blah bladhee blah thiny-ma-jig comes into effect. I KNOW that, so don’t be a wise ass!
But why are some people, like my sisters, born with a gene that makes them more aware of what they eat? I eat now and worry later. Why does it not concern me in the way that it should and in a way that should spur me into action to do something about it? What is that? This issue has concerned me for years. Not the weight issue as much as the nonchalant issue!
Today I put on about 6 different outfits before I went back to the first one I tried on. I still wasn’t happy with the outcome. I felt uncomfortable the whole day and self-conscious. In a nutshell, I let a pair of crappy fitting jeans dictate my opinion about myself and my outlook on the day.
The thing with weight is that it’s an external encumbrance. Out there for the whole world to see. Out for everybody to judge and form an opinion on. It’s not a fragility that is hidden. It’s out there to be whipped and flogged by everybody that cares to. It’s there to fuel my relentless self loathing and to vex me constantly.
Every week I subject myself to failure at my weekly weighing sessions. Sometimes it’s fine and I lose weight, but more often than not, I don’t. What other person takes their personal failure and exposes it to the world for public ridicule? Not many I’m sure…….
Yesterday I finished reading Room. Really great. I sprained my ankle slightly so had an excellent excuse to veg on the bed and I took FULL advantage and read and read whilst the nanny took the kids for a walk with the dogs and the Hans lamb. Most peaceful.
I weighed yesterday morning and STAYED the same. The second week in a row. WTH? Most affronted and bemused about that, I thought Weigh-Lady was going to explode. You see I should be losing at least 1-2kg per week.
Anyhow…am building up the birthday excitement in the house… I think John is quiet fed-up with all my questions and hints. He always takes it in good grace though and panders to all my drama!