SHE ASKED ME WHY?

The entire blog, for me, is about answering the questions, “why?” and “why not?” Why can’t you stay committed to the plan? Why aren’t you losing weight like others? Why are you still not staying on the plan? Why is the plan not working for you? Why are you not planning your meals? Then the “why nots and other why can’ts…” Why can’t you see that all you need is commitment and the weight drops off? Why don’t you try to stay committed FOR LONGER? Why can’t you do like others? 

Number 1.

The “I can’t mentality”.

Not many understand it. It is that mentality that haunts your thoughts and whispers frequently to you that you can never be slim. It starts with simple thoughts like, “See now, the trouser still can’t fit even after everyone says you look slimmer. To, “Hitting that goal is impossible, didn’t you try it in all the other weight-loss attempts last year, the year before? The year before? The year before? The year before? …to infinity!?”

And other facts like that reflection on “THE MIRROR”. This might be funny to some but, it took a long time for me to stop seeing Agbani Darego staring back at me. I was piling up the weight but my mind reconstructed my vision and I saw what I wanted to see. Let me explain further… I do not remember what I looked like from Weight X to Weight X plus 40kg. I just woke up one beautiful morning to the startling reality that I am obese… morbidly so! Now, it didn’t take overnight to pile up the weight so it won’t take overnight to take it off, but the inbetween sucks! You try and try and the (new) image in the mirror is still as fat, still as ugly and still as flabby.

Number 2.

“When I am good, I am very, very good

And when I am bad I am horrid”

I unfortunately am one of those who work on the principle that “He that is down needs fear no fall”. I am like the type that finds friendship with the pigs and the swine when I fall into the mud. I am not good at getting up. Even worse at pulling others up because I am very responsible to my “bad example”. It restricts me. I am ashamed of who it makes me look like. An unworthy so and so that cannot even stay true to a seeming, driving passion.

I think it is the (wrong) mentality that I am deprived. The fact that I can have this and not that. Or that I can have a “little” of this and “none” of that just challenges me negatively when I fall. And I fall regularly. Now, falling is not the problem,  it is getting up that is oh-so-difficult. I enjoy having fallen so one chocolate bar turns to 4. The little piece of fried chicken becomes 3 and worse, I go back for the skin… Why? Because I am horrid! Sometimes this leads to a guilt party and lasts days… Allowing me every opportunity to pile everything back on.

Number 3.

“Competition has and adverse, or is it a reverse effect on me”

The more people compete and score ahead of me, the more I am satisfied to take the back bench. I am there already, not so? No pressure anymore. Ndi na-agba first gbaba first, si rapum ebaa”. So belonging to groups and movements and challenges only just make me worse. So why do I stay in some groups? More because I want to be with the real people. The fellow back-benchers who are the real strugglers and stragglers. Who make me feel less unworthy and more normal. I stay so that we can celebrate our little successes without judgment.

We are the real champions… We don't quit!

IF I WAS THIN!

So I woke up later to realise that it was a dream and that I am still that slim “Agbani” trapped in a fat body!

When you kneel down to pray, count your blessings, name them one by one, and make sure number 3 or 4 (top 5 sha) is “Thank God that I can dream when I sleep”. That is the alternate world. The world that defies every form of reality, gravity, weight and size.  In my dreams I am a super-model. I am a young super-model. Heck, I am a ravishing beauty that turns heads when I sway down the street singing melodies in my head as I step, “I’m every woman, it’s all in me…!” SWING SWING. My favorite song that gives me the best bounce when I catwalk is the Classic Queen Latifah rap… “DESIRE, I know you want me. You’re fine! Thank You… But I’m not the type of girl you think I am, I don’t jump into the arms of every man…!” STEP STEP - SWAY HIPS  - SWAY HIPS. Wink. Flirts. Smile.  Wake up, Loms!!!!!

Anyway, thank God for dreams. And God save us from some of these dreams...

A major deterrent to losing weight is the fear of what I will become. A ga na ejim eji! (Translation: Somebody stop me!) I have always wondered why people don’t wear short suits to work. Come on! Backless. Strapless. Kneeless… Many “lesses”!!!  Would I be able to resist the temptation to dress more provocatively. Be more daring in my hair-cuts and platform heights? Would “fitted” dresses take a new Marilyn Monroe meaning?

Come. Wait o!

Is it only bad-bad things I want to do when I am slim? You see naah! It brings to mind the things that happen when people get rich, innit? They never admit it but it is the bad-bad things that they have been coveting and they jump into them without looking back! Fast(er) cars that will ultimately kill them. Richer food that will send them to, or back to WeightWatchers in an instant. Private Jets that will drain their pockets at the sheer stupidity of having ownership of something you cannot park in your driveway. Champagne-drinking which slowly but surely poisons them to death. New, “fecham” friends that do not know you or what you stand for and care even less. They are your typical “good-time” friends and will manifest when you need them most. (Note that “manifest” here is not a good word) So why do you want to be rich?

If I was thin…

Ok, let’s get there first, abi!!?

I LOVE TO LOVE "ME" BABE...

This is not my usual blog post since it has merry little to do with my everlasting, long-drawn-out, never-ending weight loss program. But then again, maybe it has everything to do with it. The whole quest for losing weight is after all as a result of a certain type of self love. I want to be healthy. I want to be a size that is fashionably acceptable. (Will come back to this) I want to look fierce! I want to turn heads (for the right reasons) I want to run up staircases and not pant like I'm dying. I want to enter a room and "know" that my size is not the whispered topic on most lips. I want to really love myself... because I love myself.

But this is not about orobo-sizing, no. Today I want to discuss self-love. Two famous quotes come to mind when I think of loving oneself. But before I go into those I want to say quickly that, I don't know about you but whenever I think self-love I almost immediately imagine selfishness. Why? I don't know for sure. Maybe it is the unspoken suggestion that whenever the prefix "self" is used it suggests self-centeredness. Frankly I believe that self-love and selfishness exist in the same continuum, just various degrees of positivity or/and negativity. Aha, now you see it... Self-love can be a very positive thing where you understand that you are a "temple" of God and are therefore kind to yourself; spirit, soul and body. You are at peace with who you are and most likely exude positive vibes also. People love you and want to be around you. Or perhaps you are at the negative end when the self-love becomes absolute selfishness and self-centeredness. When it is "all about you!" Most people are in denial bout how self-centered they are so I will introduce a quick quiz. If you answer yes to 3 out of these 5 questions then you are selfish, self-centered, almost getting to the point of disgusting.

1.        Most times you find yourself thinking (or saying), “when will mine come?” or “what about me?”
2.        When you hear a story you immediately relate it to yourself. “If it was me…”
3.        You see a friend’s new outfit, friend, car… anything, and first thought (or retort) is, “I have something exactly like that!” or “That’s like something I did last year” etc
4.        It doesn’t matter what party you are with, once you are comfortable and fine, then everything is fine. (Everyman for himself)
5.        You can’t really answer honestly about any other person’s likes or dislikes. Not even people close to you

What did you score? See? It's a really delicate balance...

"Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all..." Whitney Houston belted these lyrics out in her familiar, strong and powerful voice, charging us to teach the young ones how to love themselves. I wish she had listened to her sermon and maybe she would be with us today still. Or then again maybe she believed her sermon too much that she selfishly veered into various acts of drug abuse. Drugs, like food and alcohol addiction start from a desire to quench a self-satisfying urge. Then the urge becomes a constant need that ends up as a habit. The "self" and the desires therefore are continually satisfied, to the detriment of health, propriety, decency and decorum. I believe strongly that man's default, without an anchor (be it societal values, Christ, recourse to the expectations of others) is to hurt himself. It is not always about holding a gun to your head... Sometimes suicide can be slow and painless... intoxicating and sweet to the taste buds.

"Love your neighbor as yourself" That is from the Bible. At first I thought to myself can that really happen? But then again, it is a charge so it MUST happen. So what happens to those that love themselves exceedingly? Then you must love your neighbor exceedingly too. Love… Ha-ha… that word! I wrote once on the difference between love and care. I said in that write-up that I’d rather be “cared for” than “loved” the way the world loves. Frankly speaking, most people care for themselves. They go out of their way to ensure their comfort. They notice when they have needs that must be met, and satisfy them… hunger, shelter, knowledge, fellowship, health, you name it. But to others, they show love by tossing things from afar. Money. Gifts. Occasional attention. Other legitimate demands. That’s not care A.K.A love! Care happens when you feel the pain that your ‘caree’ the one you care for J ) feels. You feel and hare in everything that concerns them, as though they were happening to you! You worry when they have not eaten. You ask why they are downcast. You notice when they are unhappy. You sincerely follow up on things they are anxious about. You cheer them up when they fail. You advise them when they are confused. You search their face and you know their hearts and therefore you give them love (and care). Love requires sacrifice. Man hates to sacrifice… Another default of man is the desire to indulge, indulge some more, then over-indulge.

As this season winds to an end I am hoping, as I am sure you are too, that through a full year of continual commitment to exercise and various types of weight-watching therapies, I may have learned more about denial and sacrifice. Less is more! I hope I have learned to love more… to care more. I hope I have been committed in the relationships I have with family and with friends. I hope I have inspired the younger ones. I know that I have learned to be content in little and in plenty.

Above all, I hope I have pointed people to Christ, the Way, the Truth and the Light! So help me God!

Happy New Year my friends! 

LOSING CONTROL...

“I did that?” “I said what!!?” “No way I could have said that!” (Your word against theirs... but truth is, you ca't quite remember)
Why would I want to lose my sanity for even an instant? Why would I want to be temporarily mad? Why would I want to lose control of my self and senses?

Drinking to get drunk is not an “ability”. It is a disability, or at best an inability to be in control of one’s self and discipline.  I have seen where men boast about their ability to “hold their drink”. Some consider such in terms of cans and bottles consumed. Some in terms of man-hours spent drinking. Waste. No matter how you look at it… it is wasteful!

The inability to watch or control what goes into the mouth is exactly the same! Whenever I add weight I find that the root cause is in the lack of discipline and “reigning myself in”. It is in the “willful” deciding to have small chops at 10.00 p.m at a party. Or in deciding to finish off that chocolate bar before you sleep. It is in the steady arm “press-up” from pack (of whatever) to mouth. Sometimes, it is popcorn, chinchin, chips or sweets. Mindless eating. Like mindless drinking… reaching for the 4^th bottle of champagne.

Satisfying one’s urge to drink and get drunk is not a luxury, it is an absurdity when a conscious man allows his weaker side supersede, or even worse when he makes excuses for it! I believe that we are on the mend when we admit first that there is a problem. It is called, “telling yourself the truth”. You sit yourself down and agree that there must be a problem with you if you are consistently losing yourself to your “urges”. Maturity and adulthood demand that excessiveness is curtailed. When we were young, certain thoughts and acts were permissible and could be overlooked but as we age they become pretty disgusting and unacceptable.

Then there is the effect on the children! The reason I get up everyday and try again to lose some kilos is because I would love to be a mother that my children are proud to show off. Like, why not? Rather than them be at the butt of “your Mama’s so fat…” jokes, can they perhaps be the, “Your mom’s so cool…” kinda kids? I work hard at this weight predominantly for that reason. “Your Dad’s never drunk. He is not like the others!” “I like the way your Dad leaves the party before things get long and boring…leaving only the uncles that want to get drunk before they go home!” Some of the comments I have heard from the children are even more judgmental.

Can we all be role models? Perhaps not. But can we all strive to be? Yes I think so. Frankly that is the true show of love. The choice to sacrifice for our children and the young ones looking at us, not to let ourselves be motivated by our base urges but rather by the greater good. That puffpuff may look like a harmless bun, but that deep-fried demon can only be rid after 30 mins on the treadmill, so why pop it in the mouth? That last glass of champagne “for the road” may well be the one that kills the hope the child had that her Dad, or Mom is different.

And on top of all that… It piles on the calories!

PRETTY FACE

I guess that many people will be elated when they are acknowledged as "pretty". Most women for sure! They say that compliments always soften female "receivers". Like, suddenly they are no longer that mad at you. They begin to smile... Even begin to flirt with you. No wonder compliments are the ultimate toast line. "My God, is this how you look first thing in the morning? Most people I know need 2 hours before a mirror to get there!" That was one of the best compliments I ever received... Like say I never marry by dat time, I for follow the man waka! 

When it is said to a plus-sized person however, it has a different meaning. It is judging you. When I left the training centre on Saturday a young participant walked by me and gushed, "You are so pretty!" I smiled. I smiled because I knew what she wasn't saying. I smiled because I had heard it so many times and in so many ways. That shocked acknowledgement that in spite of all those layers of fat, this fat person is still a looker! The statement sometimes comes with a sad smile that says, "How could you have let yourself go? You could have been so much prettier!" Then sometimes you realise that they say it out of real incredulous honesty, like, "Oh my God! You are STILL pretty (in spite of...) Their faces often betray them.

"But your face is still the same!" That's another kinder way of honestly addressing the overweightedness. A fellow plus-sized sojourner told me once, when justifying her decision to lose weight through surgery, that I could afford to still be upbeat and confident because, "Your face has stayed the same!" Another friend admitted that she and her friends were gossiping about me and they "realised" that I was fat because I have a face that I can STILL carry off confidently. (Can you imagine the discussions that go on about you when you are bust snoring somewhere and minding your business?!

My old friends from college were not as nice this weekend at our reunion. My friend Ekene, who prides herself with her bitchiness was honest. "Uloma, are you in there somewhere?" That was hilarious! Unfair, if you don't have a good sense of humour, but certainly original. Seyi warned me that "you no fine again!" But the refrain was, "Eh! Uloma figure 8, who would have thought you had all this fat in you?" Don't you just love real friends and honest communication? Not!

Flash back again to those who react to your pictures on Instagram and Facebook with, "Chaai, you are so photogenic!" My friend Ruky says that to me all the time. My sharp retort is always, "The camera de snap wetin im see, not so?" But I wince at what she is not saying. She's surprised, shocked even that I can still get away with second glances and admiring stares. Maybe even more than her, in spite of her slim, tight self.  #StickingTongueOut 

SOFT IN THE MIDDLE

Man walks down the street, he says
“Why am I soft in the middle now?

Why am I soft in the middle now?

…

Mr Beerbelly, Beerbelly

Get these mutts away from me

You know I don’t find this stuff amusing anymore

-You Can Call Me Al (By Paul Simon)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?gl=NG&hl=en-GB&v=uq-gYOrU8bA

Maybe you know this song. I have always loved it! Must be over 30 years old! (There I go again putting my age “out there”!) I have always loved the expression, “soft in the belly” and I think is a double entendre.

Figuratively, it means that you are no longer as hard as you used to be. (I think). Well, I choose to believe that’s what it means. Some of us project to be “toughians”! People admire our strength and even emulate us. They draw strength from our steely exteriors and believe us when we say things like, “I won’t have it!” Or, “I can never accept such nonsense!” Or, “If it was me eh, I will…!” Na shakara. LOL!

Literal meaning is when you get soft around the tummy. Develop a beer gut. Lose your waistline. Take your pick. It creeps up on us. One minute you have an hour glass figure, then soon you move fro a six-pack to a one-pack. I am convinced that if there was a graduating progression from six to five, then four, three, two… before one, most of us would be  lot more cautious and conscious. But you just wake up one day and your league has changed from “umu m’Mary” to “ndi christian mother”!

Well, I am no stranger to both meanings. And it played out last week as I was jogging down the street. Believe it or not, I do run about 30 – 45 minutes every other day! (It may not show, but I do anyway) So I am doing my thing, huffing and puffing, concentrating on my breathing, (I find that breathing helps me stay focused on the task). Anyway, so there’s this elderly Indian guy who I have a very cordial “nod-a-greeting-and-pass” relationship with. We meet on the street some mornings.

This day I nodded from afar so I could really concentrate on achieving my distance target and he beckons me to stop. I struggle… I really don’t want to break my flow. Then he starts to do the “thousand apologies” head movement. (Remember the Indian guy in Mind Your Language, the TV series in the 80s?) “Madam”, my “nodder” says, “You must hold it firm when you run, or it will drop. He is motioning to his stomach as he says this. I am dead! The whole street is glancing from his tummy to mine in choreographed symphony. My one-pack has just been spot-lighted. I don die!

I was figuratively soft in the middle too because, unlike me I took it. I didn’t say anything tough. I had no sharp retorts. I wasn’t even angry. I simple went home and dug up my tummy control and have used it everyday since then. Nothing has changed. I am not yet a 2-pack, going on six! But I have started a new journey to eradicate the literal “soft in the belly-ness”.

This journey doesn’t end!