Eviction Notice.

Eviction Notice
31 March 2012

So my In-laws have this slightly curved driveway and when we visit them we have to reverse our car out at an angle.  My husband, as the alpha-male-head-of-the-house, always takes on the chauffeuring duties, and little old me, the sweet-kind-natured-little-wifey is the passenger.  With of course a passel of kids in the back of the car, which goes without saying.  So as we reverse out of the driveway the whole family waves goodbye and I absolutely always stick my arm out of the window to wave.  So a few months ago, as we’re driving off and the whirr of the electronic gate is but a zing in my ear, I catch a side mirror view of my arm dangling out the window, still in the upright position.  Imagine my horror at seeing my very unbecoming arm-flab still flapping away, when my hand had long since stopped waving!  I could not believe that MY body could betray me in this way! 

I turned the big three-nine this year, and had optimistically hoped that I was still a few years away from the whole arm-waddle thing.  So I had two options:  Either ask alpha-male if he had noticed the arm-waddle (option A), thereby pointing it out to him, or pretend that my eyes had been deceiving me (option B) – the obvious choice.  But no, in time honoured tradition, I asked Alpha the questions most feared by men – for all eternity.  “Baby, have I picked up weight?  Am I looking fat?  Have you noticed my arm-waddle?  Is my bum big?”.  My poor beloved Alpha got the old deer-caught-in-the-headlights-look upon his face.  Because let’s be honest, there actually is no way that he could possibly give me a satisfying and “correct” answer.  Should his answer be “No” to any of these questions, life as he knows it will come to a grinding halt, because I will know that he is merely humouring me and is too “scared” to answer truthfully.  However, should his answer be “Yes” to any of these questions, life as he knows it will come to a grinding halt, because I will know that he is merely humouring me, because he knows, that I know, that he knows that…..I’ve become F.A.T.

For a few months, I lived with an uneasy knowledge of the arm-waddle, but pretended to ignore it, only being made aware of it, each time we visited my in-laws.  I fretted lots about the weight gain, continually making promises to myself that I will start dieting, no exercising, no dieting, no exercising, no dieting, hey let’s do nothing while we can’t decide.

Anyway, imagine my relief when I discovered the truth behind the whole arm-waddle thing.  Something jogged my memory and all of a sudden I remembered about Mildred.  Now who is Mildred you might ask?  Well Mildred is my evil twin.  She came to settle a few years ago, after the birth of my second child.  I noticed her presence when I looked in the mirror.  My face had filled out, as had the rest of me.  I started negotiating with her about leaving, but before we had reached an agreement, I fell pregnant with my third child.  Mildred told me in no uncertain terms that she would stay with me for the pregnancy, and comfort me.  And boy, did she comfort me, mostly with inappropriate food.

All was going along marvellously until three months after the birth of my third child.  Per chance I saw a photograph of myself, my sister and my three kids.  Initially I did not recognize myself, and thought “Who is that fat oaf posing for a photo with my kids?”.  Until I recognized the pair of pants that the fat oaf was wearing.  It was indeed the same pair of pants that I was wearing on that dreadful day of discovery.  Up until that point, I had actually thought that they were my “thin” pants and that I looked quite good in them.  I could no longer hide from the truth – I was the fat oaf in the photo.  Enough was enough!  I formally gave Mildred her eviction notice with immediate effect.  I should have known that she would not surrender so easily.  After a wee bit of negotiating, we came to an uneasy understanding that I could be in control during the week, but that Mildred would be allowed to rule the roost on weekends.  It seemed to work and with the help of my good friend “Weigh-Less”, the tide was turned.  Realising the futility of hanging on to a losing battle (pun intended), Mildred eventually pretty much gave up the ghost and only visited on rare occasions over weekends and she seemed to have finally learnt about moderation. 

We’ve been plodding along quite nicely until of late.  Now it would appear as if Mildred has reared her nasty little head again.  And what with Easter and all she is coming in to the ascent again.  She has a penchant for marshmallow Easter eggs and she can be very demanding.  I’ve discovered that ignoring her does not work, she just becomes more and more vigilant in insisting on having some and I’ve discovered that sometimes it is easier to just give in.  Here’s my theory:  If I listen to Mildred immediately and give her the blasted marshmallow Easter egg, she backs down for a bit.  However if I deny her, she gets very annoyed and will only be satisfied with a few blasted marshmallow Easter eggs.  She is currently also on a bit of a buzz about KFC zinger wings.  The cheek of it!  She nags constantly.

I’ve come to the conclusion, that I might just have to go hard-core on Mildred again and give her a new eviction notice.  I have however learnt from the past.  This time, I will give Mildred free reign over weekends, as long as I can still steer the proverbial ship during the week.  Maybe she will eventually tire of her relentless pursuit once she realises that her power has been diminished.

I might just wait until after Easter, as it will be near impossible to live with her if I deny her now.  I’m sure she’ll kick up her heels, but I shall persist and maybe in the not so distant future skinny-ness will prevail again.  In the interim I shall have to wear long sleeved shirts and tops to camouflage the arm-waddle area.  And maybe a poncho even in the middle of summer to camouflage the midriff and thigh area.  And maybe a burka to camouflage the triple chin area.  Which reminds me of my one and only Muslim joke (not meant to be offensive):  What do the men shout in a Muslim strip club?  “Show us your chin!”.  

A pic of me after Mildred's eviction.

Mildred - firmly in residence.

Sadly Mildred is visiting again at the moment - evil, pure evil, I tell you.