The circle of figure...err...life?
I was the stick insect in my school. Neighbours and relatives would keep on commenting that the poor kid seemingly got only leftovers at home. This ideal situation continued right until college. I know, lucky me! But I was too much of a nerd back then to put this into optimum usage.
It was only when I turned 18 and left my hometown, that my first local guardian in the city, a thoroughly delinquent young woman, made me aware of the fact. She also showed me the ropes of the friends-college-fun-party-boys network. At least, now I've got somewhat of an adventurous history that would need hiding from my daughter in future.
Alas! the chemical reaction that changed it or let's say ruined it all was my marriage. I don't mean it in a bad way but my marriage was the definite marker if not the reason. So there I went, from a slim figure to a water buffalo. My metabolism all but died and that too a very silent death because I don't even remember hearing a sigh.
The usual embarrassment followed whereby S was increasingly being placed as my younger brother (Blimey!) What didn't help the situation was my love for food, my foodie colleagues, my workplace surrounded by numerous eating joints, and the constant guilt-trips after every food excursion which made me eat more.
My pregnancy, therefore, was a blissful period where I indulged myself and much to the encouragement of S. The only dampener was a ban on Chinese food though I more than made up for it with cheese, mayonnaise, sausages and everything designed to stop your heart. Ooh! those were the days, nary a thought about fat or flab.
But, the ride was over soon. Soon, M, my beautiful gem, was in my lap and though I was unabashed about my plump glory, it did poke in the back of my mind. The miraclesilver lining golden lining to this cloud was—breastfeeding. It actually made me lose the hippo hips and even though I wasn't really counting my calories or lifting a limb in exercise, I didn't blow up.
Alas! the chemical reaction that changed it or let's say ruined it all was my marriage. I don't mean it in a bad way but my marriage was the definite marker if not the reason. So there I went, from a slim figure to a water buffalo. My metabolism all but died and that too a very silent death because I don't even remember hearing a sigh.
The usual embarrassment followed whereby S was increasingly being placed as my younger brother (Blimey!) What didn't help the situation was my love for food, my foodie colleagues, my workplace surrounded by numerous eating joints, and the constant guilt-trips after every food excursion which made me eat more.
My pregnancy, therefore, was a blissful period where I indulged myself and much to the encouragement of S. The only dampener was a ban on Chinese food though I more than made up for it with cheese, mayonnaise, sausages and everything designed to stop your heart. Ooh! those were the days, nary a thought about fat or flab.
But, the ride was over soon. Soon, M, my beautiful gem, was in my lap and though I was unabashed about my plump glory, it did poke in the back of my mind. The miracle
I went to office for my exit formalities and people gushed over my weight loss. Mind you, this is when S has already started nagging me about getting into shape. However, the lovely people in my office restored my faith in humanity. They assured me I was slimmer than I was ever before. They even went on to compare me with celebrities who flaunted their incredible post-baby figures in a matter of weeks. Okay, alright, I got a little carried away.
But what the hell! I loved every bit of it, every little bit of the whole ride was as sweet as it was fun. A full circle! Only this time, I really want to put in some serious effort at being a yummy mommy!
PS. For the curious, my post-surgery-hanging-tummy was taken care of by a pair of high-waist, super skinny pair of denims.
PS. For the curious, my post-surgery-hanging-tummy was taken care of by a pair of high-waist, super skinny pair of denims.
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