However shallow this might sound, women consider an expanding waistline a death sentence (metaphorically, yes, but for women of a certain age, literally!). I weighed an average of 180 lbs the two occasions I was pregnant, morbidly overweight for someone who barely clears 5 ft.
In 2005, I had made up my mind to become a ‘loser’: I ran 4k every other morning, lifted weights the rest of the day, watched what I ate, and basically just went about sensibly losing weight, sans liposuction, laxatives or a life coach. I had radio frequency in the last leg of losing weight for sculpting and definition, something I could indulge in, being a stay-at home mom, and at the time flushed with a lot of moolah. ^_^ One happy day, I tipped the scales at 104 lbs (47kg), ideal for my height and age. I strutted my stuff years after that, so svelte I was often mistaken for single.
Ugly weight started creeping steadily back in when, in 2008, I had traded my running shoes for wedges of office. As Chair of a department in my university, (whose job description actually involved a lot of sitting), I easily piled on 20 lbs. Without regular exercise and in a workplace where eating is taken as seriously as though one’s tenure depended on it, I fell off the fit wagon. There had been days when checking my weight was as seriously aggravating as dealing with self-aggrandizing people in the university!
So, it’s 2013. While I am not exactly back where I had been before 2005, I am not in tip-top shape, either. More than vanity now, it’s health issues I pay more attention to. Blood sugar shooting for the stars and blood pressure reading looking a lot like my odometer are not my idea of pretty. And just last night, when I was negotiating the stairs at a mall, I yelped an indecent stream of expletives–in both Filipino and English–because of the searing pain I felt in my knees, faintly reminiscent of pregnancy-related aches and pains. Alas! My wimpy knees couldn’t support all that hard lard.
I’m also hating the orange peel-like consistency of the skin on my legs. I also hate that I do not fit in my favorite jeans anymore, and even if they are forcibly coaxed to fit after a lot of tugging and straining, at night, I find these ugly, red welts around my waist from the jeans gripping all that fat. Ugh.
But all is not lost yet; in fact, I think it is good that I am sitting up and taking notice because I will want to do something about my weight. I will be encouraged to run again (despite a vocal opposition in the knees?!) And while I am not entirely a fan of new year’s resolutions, here I am making one, anyway: I will lose all this excess weight! Without, of course, succumbing to expensive faddish diets: “The fool and her money are soon parted” is an aphorism I know very well.
Oh, to be a Loser again!