Everyday it's the same. I go to the bathroom, check my flab in the full length mirror and hit the scales, applauding the meagre pound or two I've shed only to build it up with calories from an uncontrolled diet. It's a cycle that's enough to make a fitness guru cry in their chicken breast salad. For me it's a procedure of mixed blessings.
I used to be a size zero about a decade ago. Forget shopping at the women's section unless it was in Chinatown, my wardrobe was a mixture of wacky slogans and bright prints for twelve year old girls. It had cut my clothes shopping wallet by half the price. As the years piled on, so did the weight. From being mosquito-bite chested I began to fill up actual C for Cup bras. My knickers no longer sagged at my hip bones that sounded like a dull xylophone note when knocked. I might've been hourglass shaped at a very brief duration.
Nowadays I carry a double chin and round belly that once laid flat under crop tops I sported everyday. My wardrobe budget has reverted to being half the price after an era of mini skirts and teeny jackets paired with fishnets. Much as I love my figure, my Michelin torso looks just as good outlined by a longer top showing off a plus sized bust.
Truth be told I never was unhappy with my weight and that still applies till this day. I am Asian and the women in the country of my ethnic origin are at least twenty kilos lighter than me. Had I followed the wise advice of the far right and gone my back to my country, which is not my country, I would've been guilt tripped into an eating disorder. Over here on western shores it's no better. My Bullshit Mass Index says I need to lose at least five kilos to consider being healthy. I tried that once. My thighs wobbled when I tried hitting the gym. I wolfed down the piddly low carb 'food' suitable for losing weight on my calorie counter. It did diddly squat (and yes I have tried those too). I got bored.
My point in writing this? Just because. I look at old photos of myself sporting size eight to ten dresses with spindly legs on show. Sometimes I miss them, most times I don't. I would love to have my sculptured jawline back and wouldn't knock having a flat belly but would never be described as curvy if I did anything to get those back. And I love being curvy just as I liked being slim. If I was any bigger than I am now I would still be saying the same thing. I am surrounded by articles on how I should lose weight and how to gain curves in the right places. They don't catch my interest.
After all I've been there and been that, baby.Suggest a correction