So in the last six or so months,
I had been gaining weight. Now, if you have known me since childhood, your
eyebrows would be understandably elevated. I have always been one of those
skinny girls who eats whatever, whenever; one of those skinny girls forever
standing before her mirror holding up and pushing up assorted body parts,
imagining what she would look like when she finally grew some curves. I always
thought weight gain would bring me some contentment- if I got a little more
busty, or a little more hippy, I was sure I would finally be happy with my body.
Sidebar: When I was growing up,
they had not yet invented the thigh gap. Smh.
When I got the chance to study
abroad, I knew this would be my body breakthrough. No one lives in the UK for a
year and comes back skinny, right? So, thrilled was I when finally, I could not
wear size 10 trousers without a struggle; and thrilled I stayed when my shirts
stretched out a little tighter upfront. I was still blissfully eating whatever,
whenever; but doing a lot of walking (for budgetary rather than exercise
purposes, mind). By the time I came back home, my newly filled-out bod and my
lack-of-sun lightened skin gave me a zing of confidence.
Then I got a job.
Nobody told me that when my body
gets used to walking at least thirty-or so minutes each day; I can’t just up
and tell it to sit put about 9 hours a day without it freaking out a bit. Oh,
and that in my mid- to late twenties, my metabolism would start taking things
easy. So ironically, it was after I came back home that I really started to
gain weight; but it was so slow and subtle, I didn’t really notice at first.
Earlier last year, I took up exercising- treadmill, aerobics, flexibility
exercises or Zumba (about 2-3 times in a good week); in fulfilment of a promise
I made to myself at 23 that I would get fit at 26 (please hold your applause-
the only reason I made that promise is I didn’t realise how quickly three years
would go by. Sigh). It was all well and dandy and I was about three inches
closer to achieving a full split when tragedy hit: I took on a professional
course; and suddenly, I had no time for anything. Worse, I was getting home
late each night- very late and very hungry- so I would eat: banku, kenkey,
rice, whatever. You guessed it- I had forgotten I was no longer in the prime of
my metabolism.
Then people started to talk.
You know, I think one thing that
would have helped a girl with body image issues is if observers could get
organised. Like, form a union or something- have one meeting and decide once
and for all, by majority rule, veto power or something:
a) Has she
gained weight or lost weight?
b) Does it
really “look nice on…” her or must she lose it?
Wishes, horses- I know. But
people can really send mixed signals, charle; from the ones who say, “Ei, Nana
Yaa, way3 k3se o… but 3fata wo” to the one aunt who compared me to my formerly overweight
sister and suggested that she had probably passed on her weight to me (true
story)… if you’re uncertain about how to address sudden weight gain in someone
you know, here are a few suggestions:
IF you have that kind of rapport
with them:
a) Find out
how they feel about it. If they are unwilling to talk about it, leave it alone.
If they express some negative feeling about their bodies, share your experience
if you have had your own weight/body issues. Solidarity helps.
b) If you
have not had your own weight/body issues, try to do more listening than
talking, for it’s hard to understand what being in that position is like.
IF you do not have that kind of
rapport with the person:
a) Try to
keep off the topic of weight gain, for you know not how damaging your
teasing/comments/advice may be.
b) Talk to
a tactful person who is close
to that someone about your concerns.
In both cases, pray for the
person. Yes, pray.
In my experience, I was already
confused by what my body was doing- I didn’t know if I liked the way I looked
or not. On one hand, I had always wanted to have these… ahem… assets- I felt
like I finally looked like a woman- and yet I wasn’t entirely comfortable with
that. I guess it was the fear that being a size bigger and growing, was just a
first step down a slippery slope- that one day soon, I would wake up and
realise I couldn’t see my toes anymore. Exaggerated, I know, but this is the
sort of roller coaster ride I went/go through on this issue. Not to mention the
panic point when I realised I was quickly going beyond being more endowed to
taking on a distinctly puffy appearance. When you’re already dealing with all
this, it’s not at all useful to have every
Tom, Dick and Harry point out that you’re gaining weight.
So I finally got to my “This
nansins must stop” point at the end of last year. Among the goals I set for
myself this year, I added this: to lose 5kg and maintain that weight, by the
end of this year. Easily doable, right? Right- because within 1 month I have
already lost 3 of those 5kg- and I’m not on a diet.
What changed? Some attitudes and
habits.
First, I started eating
breakfast. A few months ago, I had the privilege of interviewing one of the
nicest ‘important’ men I have ever met. He is the CEO of a thriving business in
Ghana and he was so approachable that somehow, the conversation got to eating
habits; and he explained to me that he currently has a pacemaker installed in
his heart due to combined pressures of work and bad habits such as not eating
breakfast. I was stunned. Not eating breakfast could be that dangerous? I knew
it was bad but that dangerous?!? On
my way home from work, I bought some sugar bread against the next morning, wai.
Nobody had to tell me twice. I read some more on it, and found a popular saying
which I loosely live by: eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince, and
supper like a pauper.
I also faced the fact that I
love eating- it’s not necessarily the food itself; but the act of eating. By
Freud’s estimation, I probably got orally fixated or something (should explain
why I couldn’t quit sucking my thumb for years and subsequently missed out on
having perfect teeth- but that’s another article). Eating. I realised I find
comfort in putting food in my mouth- so my cure was not in eating more or
necessarily less, it was in eating slowly.
The rationale here was this: if I could savour putting the food in my mouth, take
the time to enjoy the sensations and flavours of the food, even pause in
between chewing sessions to drink water or do something else- to prolong my
enjoyment of the very ritual that is eating, I would be able to lay down the
fork when my stomach got full, regardless of how much food was still on the
plate because I would bear witness
to myself that I had had a good run.
I divorced late suppers. I
realised my romance with full meals in the evenings wouldn’t get along with my
health and fitness aspirations; so I set yet another easy policy for myself: no
cooked meals after 7:00pm. Guess what- in the last few weeks, I have hardly eaten
after 6pm. Basically, being able to
separate my desire to eat from actual hunger, in itself, cut down my compulsion
to eat quite a lot. It’s as if it’s now dawned on me that I can feel like
eating and yet, not eat; and not die :) Plus, if some particularly tempting food is available that late, I’ll
rationalise that it will taste just as good in the morning and psych up myself
to have a very kingly breakfast the following morning. If I’m truly hungry
after 7pm, I have a beverage (usually hot chocolate), juice, fruit, veg or
basically anything that does not require cooking (e.g. rice) and isn’t too
sweet (e.g. ice cream) and that I like (e.g. hot chocolate :). My resolve has not been tested yet, but I
have very slyly crafted the policy to exclude the occasional dining out at
night; especially if a Chinese restaurant is involved ;)
On the exercise front, I
realised a few things at my fed-up point last year: exercise and I would
probably never become extremely fond of each other- so for now, I won’t aim to
be one of those chiselled-out Zumba instructors- I’ll just aim to be fit. Fit
enough that I won’t get so out of breath when I climb the two floors to my
office; that I can occasionally sweat through at least 20 minutes of Jane
Fonda’s beginner’s workout without quitting after 5 minutes and just watching
the video. Before you judge me, please note it was barely 2 months ago that the
closest I would get to exercising was putting on the work-out clothes and
watching the entire video, telling myself I was mentally mastering the moves.
Progress is progress, my friends.
I have decided, rather than obsess
over looking a particular way, to focus on developing healthy habits with
regards to food and fitness; and allow my body, however long it takes, to grow
into those good habits and reflect the benefits thereof. I find that what works
for me is not making sudden, extreme shot-term changes; but gradual,
sustainable, little lifestyle alterations. And sometimes, I have to psych up
myself mentally for weeks before I actually do it (e.g. getting all dressed up
only to watch exercise videos for weeks, before actually starting to move). I
hope I don’t fall back into the unhealthy habits I had before; but if I do, I
pray God gives me strength to rally and press on. I don’t know how many people
out there are like me- but the morale of my story is-
a) Be
patient with yourself- DON’T give up
b) Make
your goals achievable and review
them when the need arises
Perhaps, most importantly, I am
teaching myself to be happy with my body, just the way it is, at each point in
time. I still stand in front of the mirror quite a lot, but these days, I make
a conscious effort to resist holding up certain parts, fantasizing; but rather
look full on at everything, just the way it is, and smile at how beautiful it
is. Paul was no woman, but he sure knew what he was talking about when he told
Timothy: Godliness with contentment, is great gain (1 Timothy 6:6).
I know that many of my heavier
sisters would scoff at my experience and say, as many have, look at this girl
talking about being fat; but the point is, it’s not really about what size a
person is. The struggle in the mind to accept one’s body as beautiful,
regardless of popular culture’s standards, is the issue. I may be nowhere near
as big as you, but my struggle may be every bit as real as yours. The battle,
as I have learnt, is mostly in the mind. For me, victory has begun with
claiming for my body the pronouncement that God makes on all of His creation:
“It is good!”
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