This Weight Thang

         I got scared as hell last night at Tahitian class. I almost passed out.  I did have to catch my breath a few times after a grueling bout of drills…but I’ve done that before! I’ve pushed myself even harder in my jazz and hiphop classes in the past. I told myself, perhaps the culprit is the several rounds of squat-walking across the dance floor while keeping our back straight, hands on the sides (way to go, thighs!) That was undeniably a sweat-breaker.  What I do know is, my heart fluttered for what seemed like 10 seconds or maybe less and an aura of tiny shooting stars filled my peripheral vision.  It felt like the world was turning the lights out on me.  And so I panicked, but with the mind-over-matter mentality that I have grown to acquire through time, I fought it with deep breathing and coughing (hey didn’t I read that somewhere?) Ten minutes after that, my body let me dance like nothing threatening ever paid me a visit.

        I think it was lack of oxygen because I didn’t do enough warm-up stretches before class.  Or maybe I’m pregnant? (wishful thinking…) Or possibly I’m too old to dance? I’m only 35 and if Madonna, Tina Turner or some other ab-gyrating momma past her golden years can still pull it off, I will keep doing it!

        Or perhaps it’s because I have been starving silly in the past couple of days…. 

        Ahhh this weight thang.  There is a gamut of resolutions most of us have made in time for New Year’s.  I didn’t even bother with a list because every time I try to think about mine, there is only one prominent and life-consuming desire that pops up. TO LOSE IT.

        Those who know me would know. I have been through this journey several times before.  As a matter of fact, I have been through this too many times over I’m so getting sick of it!

        It all started when… *sad background music please* (JOKING)

        I was born as a 8.5-lb baby and I have always been a cute and chubby little girl in my childhood.  My baby fat loved me so much it got so clingy that it stuck around until I was old enough to have my own baby!!!  Growing up, I always had weight issues.  THOSE WEREN'T EVEN MY PERSONAL ISSUES, FOR PETE'S SAKE!  These were issues shoved down my throat by people around me.  “You’re getting fat!....Oh wow, you got skinny…You’re so big!...How's Clarisse? Guess what, she lost a lot of weight! or How's Clarisse? She's fat and chubby right now etc etc”.  A lot of people I see around here in the U.S. would complain about what I am ranting about.  In fact, at work, they want me to be in front when we take photos because they say I'm the skinniest girl around... when I was in the hospital, the nurse remarked "you're so petite, let me put this IV in your tiny wrist".  Okay, so I am not morbidly obese, I don’t need two chairs to accommodate my tushy, and I don’t look like a walking whale (at least that’s my personal opinion of myself), but I got these issues, big time.

        All throughout my life, some of my accomplishments were defined by others as how many pounds I gained, or how many inches I lost.  A lot of people, most likely with the right intentions though, would comment on my weight as if at that moment, I wasn’t exactly the same person they have known before, or that I wasn't the person I was supposed to be.  Like I wasn't supposed to be chubby. Maybe some caring ones simply hoped I would look better in a size 0 because I was blessed with a pretty face. Hello!  At least I had a pretty face!!! (hahaha) Perhaps, they had this expectation of me. Like I'm one movie star who's supposed to be perfect and look good for others, all the time. But I was me and I truly didn't care. In my heart, I was confident about how I looked and in fact, I thought I was pretty hot at times.  (That's probably why...dang!) Sometimes, I think I was born in the wrong period.  I could have easily fit in one of them Renaissance artworks! Their women had the guts and a GUT! And they looked sexy and hot just the same.

        There are some days though, when I would check out my candid pictures randomly taken at different angles and reality would sink in.  I am fat.  I won the battle of the bulge twice in my life.  TWICE.  Once, I Iost 30 pounds really easy.  I set my goal and went for it.  I was doing it for myself,  but looking back, my dark shadow was doing it to spite other people, or make their jaws drop to say the least.  An ego trip, just to finally have the last laugh, after all these years of torment.  But! I'm only human.  As if I haven't been happy enough, I had to do it one more time, on a replay.  I let it go and gained weight again.  Then, shed off a lot of pounds again, dramatically, perhaps to spite these critics one more time...as if the first time wasn't satisfying enough. But that wasn't the real reason.  I just let it go, just like that. And with my innate metabolism the speed of a turtle, of course I was headed for doom!  I knew that. 

The point is, am I ready to go to face my third battle? Perhaps, I can ignite that kind of determination again, and fuel up my courage to win this one more time, for keeps.  This time, I know it will help me to think about health reasons --hypertension, cholesterol, diabetes..all those ugly threats, my hubby, being healthy for our future together. They said it is also easier to have a baby when you're skinny.  How true, we'll have to wait and see. 

        This is an uphill battle though.  They all say when you gain weight, that means you're happy.  It's true.  But that doesn't pass as an excuse I guess, huh!  It's possibly why I starve myself silly during the day.  Right now, dinner time is when hubby and I eat together, update each other on how our day went, and that is when we share a common passion...cooking good food and eating. It is a wonderful time we both look forward to coming home to.  It's one of the things that tie our hearts together.  I am not about to give that up (or maybe I'm not ready to compromise my appetite?).  My mom told me one time "Tell Aldred, if you really love me, don't feed me."  Why? That's going to be a lot of tough love on my plate right there.  At least my husband feeds me! There's a lot of miserable women out there whose mates don't care. But yes, this is a lame excuse!!! 

        We just have to make better choices, and healthier options this time around. I still don't have any plan of action at this time.  I've designed my game plan down to the most trivial detail during those times I succeeded those first battles.  I'll perfect my game plan one more time.  And you know me, I'll do it.

        I promise.