My Nemesis

(Disclaimer: A overly dramatic post ahead. Don't tell me I didn't warn you!)

I haven’t read a book for a few weeks now and I feel like a fish out of water. I feel almost guilty for not keeping up, for breaking the continuity. But guess what, this post is not about books and the fact that I am behind with my reading. It is about my tormentor cum nemesis called WEIGHT.

The other night, I was trying on an outfit. A business dress I hadn’t worn for many years since I bought it, simply because the last time I had tried it on (a couple of years ago), I could fit TWO of me in it. Yes, I was in my best shape ever and although I couldn’t wear the dress despite my plan I came away giddily happy for the weight I lost. That night I hung up this dress with the thought of donating it just so someone 'bigger than me' could make good use of it. But the thought was never acted upon. So here I am a few days ago, pulling out the dress, absolutely confident that I will slip into it easily.

After all, I haven’t gained much have I? Just a few easily ‘sheddable’ pounds. Nothing to worry about. Really.

With this confidence I tried on the dress only to find that I couldn’t pull it up beyond my knees. My thighs, yep, the thundering thighs along with my well endowed but flattened backside a.k.a, 'ass', 'tikaa', 'bottom','buns', whatever you want to call it joined forces together to stop this dress from moving up any further. No matter how hard I pulled, yanked at it, it just wouldn’t budge. So here I was, half naked in my closet, dress stuck right below my bulging, layered torso, my eyes filled with disbelief, almost teary cursing the life out of everything, especially the dress. It was after all the dress that was inflicting all this sudden, unbearable pain I was experiencing. It’s not my oversized limbs or buttocks. No way!

Yes, it was the dress. It had to be, right, when in came my 3 year old. Her first reaction to my state (read pain) was a deep throttle laugh accompanied by ‘mama, you are lengta (naked)’. Hee, heee, hee, she chuckled. Then she came closer, inspected the dress (not me, mind you and my poor state) but my stupid dress and commented, “mama, this dress is stuck. You are TOO big for it!”

Did I ever mention how able my kids are at RUBBING IT IN??? Yes, if there is a prize, a medal for that, they will win it!

She then proceeded to call her older brother, who quite promptly arrived while I hurriedly and cumbersomely tried getting out of the dress and added, mama, what did you do to the dress? Are you sure it is yours? It looks like somebody else’s dress.....may be a little girl’s!

At this point I was ready to throw myself in a cup of water and end my life. And to add to this misery, hubby dear, my so called partner, my trustworthy friend watched this unfold from afar with a massive grin on his face.