Happy fattie

Okay, I have to be honest about this. Honest with myself and honest with the world. I can’t overlook this, there is no denying it. Never before have I taken up so much space, physically, as today.

The weighing scale has not given me a definitive answer yet, but that extended tummy that moves with each step... it just doesn’t lie. That dress, slightly tighter than before, but sadly not around the boobs, speaks volumes. Those arms, never before as flabby as they are today, now hang somewhat purposelessly alongside my body.

Not that this is any surprise, mind you. Those trainers have been lying in a box for months, and yes, that tennis racket is ready to use (newly strung and all) - in my bag in Belgium, that is, and swimming in salty sea water, even though it is turquoise and full of aquarium fish, is just not my kinda thing. I firmly believe that those kilos will come off as soon as I start that dive master course, because, as everybody knows, dive masters have bodies to die for.

And combining all that inactivity with entire days of eating, it can be expected that, at some point, you will start paying the price. Especially after your thirties. My breakfast is generally good enough according to Sonja Klimpen’s standards. Unless I start eating toast with kaya at Toh Soon Cafe, or mountains of dimsums at Tai Kong, or roti canai with honey at Kapitan, or...

Come lunch time (about one hour later) things start going wrong. Especially when small starters have to be eaten before the actual lunch. And then comes the actual lunch: pork and the fat of said pork. With rice. Veggies are more for decoration. Eating a lunch like that is rather tiring in all this heat, so a pick-me-up like ice coffee (with sweetened, creamy milk) and a piece of cake will get us through those complicated hours between 2 and 4. Anyway, you get the picture...


But, never mind all that. I need to admit to something far more important. And to everyone who cares to know, because I am pretty enthusiastic about it. I walk around with a smile every day. The kind that would make a wide-mouthed-frog go green with envy. And I regularly catch myself realising it and acknowledging it, which makes the smile disappear instantly.

I am happy. Or even better. I am content. I am content with everything I have. And also with everything I no longer have. With each day that I live and feel alive. With my life minus all those responsibilities that, I now realise, have heavily rested on my shoulders for far too long. Shoulders that always willingly carried them, but that now feel so nice and relaxed for a change. This feeling of ‘contentment’ is something I  hope everybody I care about can feel at least a couple of times a month.

And, while floating on air, who cares about those couple of extra kilos?



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