It’s been quite some time since I haven’t sucked in my breath, looked sideways in the mirror and assured myself that I am not quite fat. I could stand losing a few pounds (when in the US, use weird measures) maybe. But I am certainly not fat.
Of course, it never counts if siblings tell you that you’re fat. Because that’s what siblings are for. To make you feel like there’s something wrong with your life… 😛 But WW called me and said (among other things) that I seem to have developed a little paunch… I had to sit up straight and take things seriously.
I have always been somewhat vain about my looks and 2-3 extra kilos seem to me like I’m overweight and ready to compete on those weight loss reality shows on TV. Not to mention the fact that I pull out the Indian clothes once I cross a certain treshold. But I can’t do that right now. It’s too freakin’ cold! So I have to suffer seeing myself in the once so sexy little tops and live with myself. Yes, I agree, I’m a drama queen so I won’t really put away those sexy tops till I lose a little weight.
I stepped onto a scale for the first time in a long, long time yesterday and I saw a number that quite literally shocked me. I actually cried a lot of tears over what I’ve let myself become before I realized that I was crying for something more than just the stupid extra 3 kilos. I haven’t worked out in over a year now so I knew this was coming. But what really upset me was the fact that I haven’t taken the time over the past one year to see what I was doing and where I was headed.
I have been so wrapped up in vast and various things over the last few months that I haven’t even had the time to see what I’m doing, what I’m eating and how I feel. I’ve been too busy chasing admits and visas and tailors and God knows who else to even pause a while and do something for me that makes me feel better. I’ve thought too much, analyzed everything to bits and not paid enough attention to things that mean a lot to me personally. Neglection of Simbly Bored over the last few months or more tops the list.
I can’t remember the last time I sat down and sang. Or worked out. Or was lost to the world because I was reading a book. I can’t remember the last time I had an idea that excited me. A song that I looped endlessly because I was so much in love with it. Or any of those moments that characterize me. One of those intensely “alive” moments that are so me…
Instead, I seem to have slowed down. Mellowed. Become more careful, critical, analyzing, as impulsive in many ways but just a lot different from how I remember myself. I remember myself as someone bubbly, enthusiastic, with my foot in my mouth most of the time. Happy most of the time. Ponderous sometimes but on the whole a person whose presence would be sorely missed if she wasn’t around. Just so alive.
It’s not about how I look anymore. It’s about becoming someone I don’t quite recognize. It’s about collecting myself and lowering (or even better, removing) expectations, relaxing and just living life the way I am so used to living.