If you’re a regular here you’ll know my constant fight with the Voldemart in my life, the one I’ve battled for as long as I remember, the one that has spawned many a post some funny, some sad, some jubilant and some motivational. It’s all been about that three lettered word ..
FAT.
I was a chubby baby and made for a pretty picture with my mum in her bouffant and a very dapper dad. However that cute little toddler turned into a fat preteen. And from then on life was just not the same.
When other kids counted dolls I counted my rope skips.
Each morning I’d pick up my skipping rope and a mat and go to the terrace for my exercise. I hated it. It was a chore, a chore I detested. I’d pick at my food and then binge.
When other girls counted boy-friends I counted calories.
I’d look in the mirror and see just a fat girl. I shied away from wearing certain clothes, sticking with the ‘safe’. I stayed away from most sports for fear of losing and becoming a laughing stock. Racing, running, jumping.. all a no no. I never danced. I hated formal occasions that required me to dress up. I’d look in the mirror at a face that never looked pretty. How could it? I was perpetually scowling at myself.
I wish someone had told me.. to love myself the way I was.
And the funny part… when I look back at my pictures I find I wasn’t fat. I really wasn’t. Of course it might have been because I was trying so hard most of the time. However, I never stopped to take stock. I never saw that I wasn’t fat fat. I never did enjoy the fruit of my effort.
What a colossal waste!
Later, much later, when I crossed 30 and really put on weight, I went to a gym. I loved it. I loved the exercise, the music, the instructor counting out relentlessly, the sweat trickling down my brow and finally, I loved how I MADE the weighing machine needle move the right way. Each kg that went brought on a delicious pleasure. A pleasure I learnt to savour.
When I had kids, Voldemort struck again. I let him be. I enjoyed my kids putting in the occasional exercise when I could. I loved being a mum, fat and all. Still do :-). Then it was back to the gym.
And the struggle continues. But I’m having fun. I run with the kids without worrying about who’d be laughing at me. I even dance sometimes. Oh I know I look ridiculous but now I know, it doesn’t matter. I often like what I see in the mirror and when I don’t I put on my smile and I look just fine.
Of course I still obsesses about my weight. I write about it constantly. I watch what I eat and of course I binge too. I still hope to become thin one day. But in the meanwhile my life’s not on hold. I’m in no hurry.. I’ve got my whole life to do just that.
I wish someone had told me … to love myself the way I am.
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda
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