It’s a brand new year, and I’m no closer to my goal of reducing my weight by 20 kgs than I was 2 years ago when I insisted this was what I was going to do. As I age through the years, my willpower diminishes, my sense of discipline is transferred to keep order in my marriage and home, and I no longer care about myself, how I look, how I dress, etc. I think the time has come to accept things as they are. Having given birth to my daughter 3 years ago, and making reasonable and diligent efforts to lose the post-pregnancy weight (and not being successful), I’ve come to accept that 1) I may never regain my pre-pregnancy figure, even if there are things like Solo Slim or diet patches or meal replacement drinks in the market. Products will serve to enhance your efforts, and not achieve the results you want; 2) I should start packing up for sale (at a bargain) my pre-pregnancy smart officewear and the vintage clothing I used to love; and 3) To focus on living a healthy life, never mind if I’m fat (although losing 5 kgs would help in the health department). I thought to myself, I suppose I needn’t be a size 8 anymore, just as long as I’m healthy. I made a mental note to start returning to the gym.

So it was during this state of mind, that I dared to look at some recent pics Husband took of me. I generally don’t mind what I see in the mirror everyday- maybe I don’t have as low a level of self-esteem as I should have, but I think I generally look ok. Some days, my daughter tells me I look pretty, so that perks me up. I could go on and rant about the things I don’t like about myself, but it’s not what I do anymore: namely because I know a lot of the things I want to chance, but have not, are self-inflicted. I’ve decided to give up the fad diets, the low-carb diet, Atkins, the 3-shakes-a-day diet, etc and just try to live a healthy life. Accepting that I am fat (and bordering on obese) is the first step I have taken to change my mental state. I resolved that I would not focus on the perfect body anymore, but the perfect health. So that I could lead a ripe life in old age without being stricken with illness. But it still didn’t prepare me for the pictures I saw of myself.

On a recent holiday to Melaka, Husband snapped heaps of photos of our girl, some of them with me in the frame. I hated what I saw of myself. Could that really be me? I had no idea (no, seriously!) that I was THAT huge. I knew I was fat, but damn- those pictures of me. I wasn’t just fat- I was HUGE. Unattractive, and my walk was positive waddle-like because of my huge arse and big thighs.Was I a heart attack waiting to happen? A stroke around the corner? I’m still relatively young (I think) so I know whatever steps I take now to try to lead a healthy life will go a long way. But these are just baby steps that cannot alter the way I look dramatically.

I looked at myself in the mirror a while ago as I applied my night cream-and what for? Supple, younger-looking skin? To prevent the appearance of fine lines? It didn’t matter if I had good skin, or shiny hair, or clean nails. All I saw was ugly fat me. It made me sad because I was no longer beautiful.

But all that aside, I am a product of my own doing. I suppose it is for me to alter my destiny.