SDUDLA MAFEHLE FEHLE

I’m back again with another post, after the great feedback I got last night, so I’m inspired to post something else.

So the weather in Durban today, is grey and miserable and I’m working tonight, BLERGH, hopefully this blurb will uplift me!

Last night I passed out on the couch, sober on a Friday night, and woke this morning at 4am, still on the couch, which is broken-not by me- and oh so damn COMFORTABLE. So, irritated with myself for a) passing out on the couch and b) waking up so early, I then decided to go punish myself at the gym.

GYM.

The rehab centre for warped body images/self-esteem, well the positive in this place, is that the people there, are DOING SOMETHING about whatever qualm they may have with their body, and hopefully through enough dedication and effort, will reach whatever goal it is they have.

I am not immune to this, seeing as I too go to gym.

You see, for most of my life, in fact all through my school –years, I was active, played all sports they had to offer and due to ADHD, was always running around in circles, so the outcome of this was that I was a stick figure with a fast metabolism and swallowed meals whole with the plate and cutlery! Weight was never part of my vocabulary and I in-fact got drowsy the minute people brought this up.

Fast-forward post-matric, I no longer play any sports, the only time I run is if in danger, my appetite is still that of an athlete, while back at the ranch my metabolism is slowing down, matching my active levels and BOOM, what do you get : WEIGHT-GAIN!(Flava Fave’s voice)

I kid you not, one morning, I woke up, and felt weighed down, walked to the mirror and to my horror, BUTTOCKS had grown! Oh how I wept. This now meant all my pants at the waist would always gape, since no jeans were designed for “big-booty ….” This now meant I had to get *swallows* pants in bigger sizes! I’d taken everything for granted, and it had come tumbling down in the form of buttocks and hips! The trays of cream buns I used to gobble down, were now neatly stacked in my rear. I once heard a song that says “yithi amabozza oomdidi(we are the bosses of booty)” and found that they were personally attacking me, I was so hurt and cursed out the artists’ family!

I have been in denial about all of this for a while now, what has snapped me out of it, is my gran’s comment, who endearingly said she can see Cape Town’s treating me well. In black terms, this is in reference to weight gain, as back in the day, to be bigger meant you’re happy/successful. So thanks to my pint-sized gran, I’m now hitting the gym as of this past Tuesday, in attempt to prevent being Oros’ side-chick, and I in no way want my success/happiness to be determined, no, weighed, actually seen, by my thunder thighs.

I admit, I can’t be my 18-year old me, as even my mum admitted I looked like I had osteoporosis, and was always anxious when I left the house. Being the wild child I am, never helped the poor gahl with the anxiety attacks, hehe. Anyhow, if I wasn’t shy to do a before and after picmix I would, but I wouldn’t want to give you heffers ammunition to use against me the day I become a mogul. So for now, lucky are those who will witness the transition, and luckier are those who have seen me skinny-this size-ideal size. What’s the ideal size? Oh I don’t know really, all I know is that I wanna have obliques, a young 6-pack and v’s in my legs again. How long will this take? Ideally, a day, but in reality a few months. This means I’ll have to push myself, so if you see me walking like Forrest Gump * cues Chris Brown : don’t judge me *. I’ll need support though, so if you do read this, and see me in the stweets, word of encouragement would be nice, YA KNOW!

So to all my fellow wobblies/jigglies/potbellies/love-handles/and hanging arms, there is a solution, RUN FATTY RUN! To the bathroom, kitchen sink, the car, whilst typing, during lunch, STAY RUNNING!SHIT, I’ve gotta dumb-bell in one hand as I type this, the aim this time is to sweat!

hlasela amafutha dahlie!