I’m Back, Plus Some
16 January 2006
I’m back from the home country and carrying excess luggage in the amount of at least eight pounds.
That’s approximately a pound per thigh; two around the tum, another two stuck to my bum, one per boob, and my underarms are wobblier than when I left.
Don’t laugh! This is not funny.
And all that extra poundage does not include the ruddy tin of heavyweight Chrissie cake Beaty insisted I bring back as carry-on. Nearly broke my arm navigating four airport terminals with her five-pound fruitcake tugging at my wrist.
And guess what, all that schlepping was a waste, because I’m not eating it!
I need high-caloric fruitcake like I need a hole in the head. I mean for God’s sake, you’d think Beaty would have noticed that her shapely, well-proportioned visiting daughter had, by the time she’d left, come down with fat cow disease.
I kid you not!
After a few weeks holidaying with the parental unit, scoffing Beaty’s Chrissie food like a hungry pig-at-trough, I have turned into a fatty. Isa will vouch for me.
When I saw her shortly after my return, it was she who told me I’d transformed my hormonal cow disposition into fat cow disease. I shoved the tin of Beaty’s Chrissie cake at her and said, “Take this. Compliments of my mum.”
Arghhh, I’m sounding like Bridget Jones.
Gawd I hate that, blathering on about one’s weight in the manner of a neurotic chubby person obsessed with the misnomer that less body fat equals being more lovable. Nikov hasn’t even noticed that he has to stretch further to get his arms around me.
The mere suggestion that I’ve become a large chunk of jiggling jello would simply cause him to stand back and admire my new additions with the fervor of a man in love with all of me.
I must remember this the next time Fearful Sub-Personality plays havoc with my self-esteem drawing unwanted attention to my jiggling bits-the insignificant parts of who I am-and suggest that I define myself by my fat, rather than the greater whole that is me.
Ooh I can feel and New Year ditty coming on:
Post-Chrissie pounds abound,
so what’s new?
They turn up every year Just about now.
No point lamenting being fat,
that’s not cool.
Self-doubting Bridget-types
are misguided dupes.
Wear your new additions,
with great aplomb.
Confidence in your body shape
reaps just rewards.
