The Weight is On

My sister once told me a fact of life and it goes something like this, “You know, once you get to 25, it’s no use trying to pretend because the weight is a lot harder to shift.” I sneered because I did not know any better.

 

Fast forward four years and I am in a department store. Confidently, with the world as my oyster, I reached out for my usual size jeans and headed towards the changing room. I undressed and pulled on the jeans. Actually, that is a lie. I tried fitting on the jeans. For some reason, it appeared I was having problems getting the jeans to go past my thighs. A temporary aberration, I reassured myself. I knew I had not put on that much weight. My pride dented and my smile rather uncertain, I left the changing room and headed towards the clothes rack. Maybe it was the jeans. I didn’t really need them, I told myself. I wanted a pair of trousers anyway. I reached out for the pair of trousers and headed back to the changing rooms. I emerged from there my confidence shattered and my smile distinctly arctic. It was time I faced up to the truth; I had joined the international statistic of weight watchers.

 

It was not so much that I was overweight; rather, it was the fact that I was no longer the size I had been for practically all of my life. I was despondent. I thought back to the times my friends would bemoan their weight gain and I would say, “You’re fine the way you are. This tedious obsession with your weight, honestly!” Boy, was I ignorant and arrogant! It’s easy to be patronising when you are 7.5 stones and the heaviest you’ve ever been is 8 stones. Even as I sit here looking at my stomach, I am wondering where my six pack’s gone. I presume it is lurking around underneath the lump of lard disguised as my stomach.

 

Don’t get me wrong. I prayed to gain weight the minute I converted to Christianity. I was tired of being called ‘Twiglet.’ I just hadn’t thought the Lord would hold me responsible for maintaining the weight. It just does not seem fair. So here I am, sitting by the computer in the knowledge that I would have to get firmly acquainted with my local gym. It is a terrifying thought. All that sweat and heaving bosom. So undignified. Add to that the fact that I have never been to a gym and multiply the terror by a million. That should give you a sense of where I currently am at.

 

On thing is clear, I will think carefully before I ask Jesus for things.