This week, I took time to look back at my journey and I was angry with myself. So angry to the point I almost cried. I know I should have done better; I have been on a weight loss journey before and by the 14th week I am always on my target and just cannot stop because of the level of motivation I normally have. This time however, things have been totally different. Every time I start to gain momentum and actually see some progress, something happens. It has ranged from asthma attacks to knee pain from the blue to an unexpected surgery. I am currently trying to teach my left leg how to walk again and from the look of things, it will take away. I am so pissed at myself, I have severally thought about quitting. I have desperately wanted to resign to the fact that I am fat and I am not alone. I have looked at photos of bigger women than myself and told myself, “Afadhali mimi.”
I have tried to break the news severally to Biko and I have failed. The first time I was totally angry with myself I just wanted to quit and disappear.
“Hi Biko, thank you for the chance you gave me. However I cannot do this anymore….you should probably get someone more serious to do this. I am really sorry. It is not you, it is me.”
I looked at the text severally and I could not bring myself to send it. It looks stupid. Plus you just cannot quit like that. You can bargain your way to a totally different topic; life is about bargaining. I told myself, and started thinking about how I will bargain my way to writing about something less challenging.
“Hi Biko, I think it will take me very long before I can walk vizuri to enable me exercise and lose weight like expected. Can you look for someone else to do this halafu mimi I can be writing about whiskey? My escapades with whiskey, my love for it…..I can never lack something to say about whiskey. I can also write about the dimples that have refused to leave my butt and keep multiplying instead. I have given them soulful names like Shaniqua, Leticia and Jameson. The latest addition to the family is called Yego because of the position it chose to occupy. I will talk about the conversation they have amongst themselves and the parties held every time a new member joins them.”
I looked at the text, deleted it went to a corner and started questioning what I did to wisdom. Then I started to think of the difference the 6kgs lost so far has made in my life. The joy walking around without wearing a biker to avoid friction is amazing. I am yet to decide what is worse between having to pull your dress or skirt down because your hips is set to embarrass you by pulling up the dress to reveal the biker, or the pain caused by friction to the point of walking like you are carrying a stool in between your legs and the blackening that happens after. The type that makes you change your sexual fantasy to sex in the dark. Since I changed my diet and lost a few kilograms, my inhaler sits at the bottom most part of my handbag because I no longer need it. For those who have seen me struggle with that devil know what this means to me. I might joke about the dimples in my butt but truth is I have managed to chase a few with the kilos lost. Then there is that shouting weighing machine in the city. I might not have the courage to go back to the thing right now, but I know if a gun is held to my head right now and I am forced to step on the noisy ratting scale, I will not blame a lot of things like I did the last time I was there. I really cannot remember the devil that convinced me to try and get up that scale along Moi Avenue Street but I can remember that my heart stopped for a bit when that loud bitch shouted “You are 86 kilograms….” I did not hear the rest of other hateful things it spewed as I was busy apologizing to the people who were looking at me in shock and horror. When I was in a position to talk, I started asking the gentleman a lot of questions.
“Wire ya bra inaweza affect weight? Hiyo kitu inakuwanga mzito na sharp sana.”
“Hapana madam sidhani.”
“Na kama mtu amevaa corset ama body shaper? Unajua vitu ndogo ndogo kama hiyo inaweza ongeza kilo sana”
“Hahahaha! Hivi madam tuseme umevaa corset na bado naona tumbo? Hiyo kitu ni nyepesi sana”
“Aki unaongelesha customers vibaya. Unadhani nitarudi tena ukiongea hivyo? Hii kiatu yangu inakaa iko na kilo ngapi? Na mtu anaweza jua nimevaa padded panty”
“Madam unawaste time yenye ungekua kwa gym. Wachia customer mwingine nafasi.”
I walked away feeling dejected and fought the urge to turn back and wail as the machine happily announced to the next lady that she is 50kgs. After beating myself for a while, I realized that this is my journey; totally different from the others I have taken before. Most importantly what I have learned is that I can control it. I can sit back and give excuses or I can push myself to get the best. The doctor said that it will take me three to four weeks before I can be on my feet again, I have a feeling that I will be up and running by the end of next week. Do not ask where I have suddenly gathered so much from. I do not know. I saw a 4GB flash disk included in my hospital bill yet I was not given the flash disk when I was discharged. Probably the arthroscopy (I was told it is not hydroscopy) revealed my lack of wisdom and a flash disk full of wisdom was installed somewhere in my body.
No more excuses, no more quitting thoughts. To week 16.
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