The bathroom scales have petrified me for weeks. I feel fear in the depths of my stomach when I see them, because I’m worried that I’ve eaten too much food recently. Adamant that my slender figure was consigned to history, I felt doomed to life in the third circle of hell with the gluttons. If you need me before I die, I’ll be in a branch of Chicken Cottage.
What’s the big problem? The problem is being overweight. 10 years ago my jeans required nearly eight inches more fabric around the waist and I nudged my trusty bathroom scales to nearly thirty kilograms more than this morning’s reading. I’m proud of having fought hard to remove that excess weight and I’ll be damned if it’s going to creep back into my life.
Losing that mass uncovered neurosis around food, which endures today in paranoia and hypervigilance about my weight. It... come and read more...
“I just assumed you’re one of those people who are naturally slim.” Somebody, to me, last week. Feeling mildly offended by the comment, I calmly explained that I’m naturally tall, however I was previously fat, with my BMI sitting firmly in the upper half of the ‘overweight’ section of the BMI scale. The person has only known me a short time, so they can be forgiven for having little knowledge of my previous corpulence, because it was 10 years ago, exactly.