I can still remember my weight when I was a third year high school student. It was 49 kilograms (108 pounds). I had a very slim figure back then but my friends seem to be surprised that I weighed that much at such a young age. Some said I probably have big bones or my muscles are "siksik".
Before pregnancy, I weighed 56.5 kilograms. This is a picture of me in year 2008. Just a year before my pregnancy.
Come July 2009, my weight didn't change much. I even lost a few more pounds. Thanks to morning sickness and my fussiness over food. But that was brief. After a few months, I started to have the "munchies". I didn't gain weight right away which made me feel lucky and think that I am not the type of preggy who blows up like a balloon animal. WRONG!
On my third trimester, I reached 70 kilograms. I was told by doctors to go easy on the rice. Well, I did listen. But only when the bun in the oven already got too big that he started pushing the food in my stomach upwards whenever I ate or drank too much. I also had to admit I was a hard-headed, hormone-driven foodie. I used to stash sugary food in my desk drawers. Coca-cola, chocolates, doughnuts, Zagu, and Mountain Dew. I used to defend the latter about it's low (or zero, not sure) caffeine content but ignored its sugar. I also loved pasta, pizza and ice cream. The only healthy stuff I put in my piehole are the occasional fruits my father supposedly bought for the baby and my prenatal vitamins.
Ahhh! The joys of gluttony!
And the woes of my clothes... After giving birth to my little monster (7 pounds) I was able to shed a few pounds. I lost a measly 10 pounds... I didn't feel so fat. In fact. whenever I look at myself in the mirror, I see a sexier and curvier version of me. I didn't even care about how frequently the people seem to notice how I have "grown". This illusion went on for some months until I recovered a set of pictures from 2008 and 2009 and juxtapose it to a more recent picture of mine. I almost cried... The illusion was shattered and the lens refused to lie. I tried on my old clothes, the similar ones in the pictures. The shirts would rip if I continue putting them on. My jeans won't even go higher than my thighs. My hardy rubber shoes might not have complained but my feet did hurt after coming home from work.
Last month, we had our annual physical examination. They classified me under "OBESE"... When I went out of the Nutrition Section, I said: "The f...?" a little too loud. The five-letter word was better than espresso or a spicy Bloody Mary. Mother of FAT!!! I am OBESE? There has to be something wrong with that chart. I don't look that heavy... On and on I tried to convince myself I was just a victim of an untrained public servant who doesn't know how to read weight charts in my days of denial. I have to admit I lost more than half of my self-esteem and probably a quarter of my self-respect. (sigh) Those days when I used to be concerned with my "fat legs" and broad hips... I should've appreciated myself more.
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| 2008 and 2010 - a matter of two years |
"BUT THEN AGAIN..."- I love the optimism behind this phrase. I usually end my writings with these words after expressing regrets. Maybe I always try too hard to hide my pessimism in life. So, I'll try to be more realistic in wrapping up this blog entry.
I'm fat. I am struggling to lose weight. I am not letting go of my old clothes (yet). If all else fails, I will simply try to find a way to love this massive piece of flesh that I call "MY BODY". *Listens to Fat-Bottomed Girls by Queen *
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