It's not that I'm fat. I'm just short for my weight.

 

It's not that I'm fat. I'm just short for my weight.
23 October 2013

It’s not so much a case of me being really fat.  I’m just exceptionally short for my weight.

And to be honest, it’s actually taken me a rather long while to finally figure this out.  But now that I have, it naturally makes perfect, logical, if slightly warped, sense of course.  And I can’t believe it didn’t join the dots earlier.  I’m normally not that slow off the mark.  But perhaps, my diminutive height, is to blame for me taking so long for the penny to drop.  Maybe the combo of my shortness, lack of vertical scope, and my expanding need to shoot up, has caused a brain malfunction of sorts.  Pressure on plates, medulla oblongata, spleen(???), blah, blah, blah.

Currently, by obese standards, I’m not that.  Luckily.  Still for me and for what I’m comfortable with, I’m leaning towards the podgy side.  It’s that bloody fat alter-ego of mine, Mildred.  She’s a truly nasty piece of work.  I can’t stand the evil cow!

And with summer around the corner, I am ever aware that it is time for Mildred to shove off.  She is no longer welcome at all.

And as such, I have given a thought as to how to boot her.  Dieting is so hunger inducing.  Exercising is so tiring. 

Instead, I’ve come up with a master plan of sorts.

I am expending all of my energies on thinking lengthy, elongated thoughts.  If I just stretched a wee little bit, it would sort out a whole bunch of troubles for me.  Just think of it.  My weight would not have to drop.  There would be nothing for me to lose.  None of that nasty dieting and exercising required at all.  Instead, the existing weight I’ve got, would just settle into a bigger allocated space.  Personally I’m visualising it in the longer leg area.  Potentially plumping up my calves nicely.  However, I’m quite willing to adapt.  It stands to reason, that my arms would stretch too.  And fuller lower arms, even muscles, would be perfectly all right by me.  In addition, I would not moan at all, if the breast area filled out a bit more.  In fact, I think I’d like it a lot!

One friend of mine, is super anxious to lose weight.  She’s going on an exotic beach holiday next year.  A holiday that would involve lounging around on the beach in a cozzie.  Covering up with a scarf, beanie, jeans and sweater simply won’t do.  And she says, that despite her on-again-off-again yo-yo dieting over the years, this time she is determined.  She will succeed.  Why this week alone she has lost 3kg, all thanks to putting her scale on a different tile on the bathroom floor…

But perhaps, I should take the advice of another friend.  On a recent shopping excursion, she went to a (let’s call it) “larger-lady-shop”.  This title given by her own admission.  And upon emerging a while later and having the size 16 jeans not fit her either, she hoofed it off to the food court, where she promptly ate four samosas in a row.  Knowing her, it didn’t stop there either.  She has a weakness for Nik Naks chips and chocolate Chuckles too, and I’m surmising that she would’ve worked her way through a bag of both of them.  All whilst doing the school run with her kids and being out and about doing her errands.

She reckons that her goal of many years, to be thin, has been flawed.  In fact, it’s ridiculous, she says!  Instead she has lowered the bar a bit.  Decided to be more realistic in setting her targets.  And so now, her newly revised weight goal is to just not be obese.

And big up to her.  So far so good.

She’s doing just swell.

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