Monday, September 20, 2010

the climb

It's been a long time (time)
We shouldn'a left you (left you)
Without a dope beat to step to (step to)
Baby girl

... Try Again, (Timbaland) Aaliyah ...

As I sat in my Phillipe Starck Ghost acrylic chair and stared into my wardrobe in exasperation, I saw a vision of the old me trace her French-manicured fingers across the wooden IKEA hangers and started pulling 5, 6, 12 dresses out to her full-length mirror, holding and switching them like paper doll outfits. I sighed. I had an event (Power Over Cervical Cancer) to attend the next week and I literally had nothing to wear. Nothing I own could fit me. Nothing could make it pass the shoulders, nothing could go beyond the hips, nothing could zip or button and the most depressing of it all the ones that could (comprising of a pair of shorts and a black t-shirt I wear for my evening walks) were in the wash. I was 17kg overweight which makes me grotesquely obese in terms of BMI. I was the heaviest I’ve ever been. How did I let myself get this far? I cannot believe I’ve turned into those typical Chinese aunties who wear overturned shirts over their arms while they drive their children to work, cook luncheon meat and preserved mustard roots and practically live in a uniform of baggy destination T-shirts and Bermuda shorts. Remember the moment when XiaXue solemly vow-ed to not only love Mike eternally but also to never let go. I secretly told myself the same. Unfortunately telling is not the same as swearing.

It all started with us getting together. The pa-thor-ing part is always the stepping stone to gluttony. You’re both happy and spending every waking minute together. Meal times are emphasized as mini-dates and nothing sets the mood better than sharing a McDonald’s ice-cream cone on the way to IKEA (and on the way back... everyday... *sigh*). I was always juggling between 60-62kg. It has always been a lifetime struggle to cut that elusive 55kg. Then we started to have bah-kut-teh and hokkien mee weekends and lots of other lard-ridden meals in between. I was in TI where fashion lives in the form of Giordano casuals with a man who loves me just the way I am. I indulged in the laze.. savouring its fuss-free, uncomplex vibe. Whenever I bit into a juicy KFC spicy chicken breast I did not stop to wonder if I had blot the excess oil out before or whether I should skip the skin or how fatty factory-farmed hens were, all that grazed my neurons were the interpretation of umami and how good it made me feel. Slowly the denial added up and next thing I knew I was 68kg near the wedding. I did put down a couple of pounds just before the big day but not enough to christen myself a stick insect or anything near that. Now post honeymoon and the tenderfoot months of the marriage I finally came to a shocking insight that I AM an auntie waaay before my time. I have lost that sparkle (Guy claims otherwise but I know what I know). Before, despite the lady lumps, I always felt I was cute anyways. I peered into that jar of self-confidence and was horrified that alot has dried out. F*ck. When did that happen??

“If at first you don’t succeed
Dust yourself off and try again...
You can dust it off and try again.. try again.. again again..”

I have now peeled my face off the ground, shakily supported myself into an upright standing position and am ready to take on the world (again)! Yet another attempt at Project-Stick-Insect ;D

Miss PengPeng have suggested I do The (TTDI) Hill ‘cos her friend did it and went from an approximate size 14 to a size 8. Now don’t we all love a good old-fashion success story? Zero to hero... or in this case a US size 8-O to zero :) Remember the episode on (It’s a fabulous.. fabulous) Life in the Fab lane when Kimora’s forced by Chris to go climb Los Angeles version of The Hill? I was Kimora at attempt uno. I literally huffed and puffed my way up the hill. It’s getting better with time and now Guy and I can go an additional round on the extended trail before returning to the car. Not too bad now huh? Although I don’t see the kilograms dropping but I literally feel better! I have to admit the endorphins are highly addictive. Hopefully in time we can see a fitter-new-me :)

It is pathetic that we value ourselves through the sizes of our dresses. But until someone brings back Marilyn Monroe and her size 14 ass, we will continue to be govern by the likeness of waif and skeletorian. It's not something we can help being in narrow-minded KL. Heck clothes stop at UK size 14. What.. so size 16 girls and above don't need fancy-schmancy clothes?? Just 'cos we have a junk in our trunk so we're only worthy for trashy T-shirts?? Yea yea there's Dot Perkins. ONLY Dorothy Perkins. Aaaah f*ck.

I don’t need to be a stick insect. I just wanna wear my cute old clothes again. That’s all.


ken said...

when i eat KFC, i just eat.. worry about the fats later.. lol

andreeeeea said...

oh yes the elusive 55kg. i'm as distressed as you are. and perpetually meet ppl who moan "oh i'd kill myself if i hit 60kg!". ugh. same old same old story - stuck with only tshirt n shorts, self-promised to be a MILF (muahahahaha!), pakthor-ing involves makan makan makan dates, my bf insists i look fine but i am having personal reality check crisis.

good luck in your climb. the world is saturated with stick insects. see you in cute old clothes land in a bit ;)

shelbybaby said...

ken: ahahaha as our might beyonce belts: if i was a boy...

andreeeeea: man i'd kill to live in the bourjois times when being plump is ideal and all that matters is cleavage. i have loads of cleavage at places where there shouldn't be... but thanks for the reminder. i ALWAYS need to be reminded. being fat also makes me forgetful ;D

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