The fat side

I think I might be on the fat side for quite a few reasons. Here are ten of them:

1. I look better this way, and I don’t care about the opinion of others. I’ve tried the opposite and didn’t like it, in direct correlation with everybody else who were full of praise – as if now I’m some sort of BETTER???? At first I was amused by it, of course some praise always feels good, but then I realised it was making me mean. I found myself flirting back to agreeable comments, while my head resounded with WHAT THE HELL?? I asked the guy who saw me after a long time and made a guess at the number of lost kilograms if he was an aesthetic surgeon. It must be because I started getting attention from men at a too early age. I didn’t need more eyes on me. But even more importantly: when I saw myself on a photo after losing the most weight in my life, I could see the sunken cheeks. Though healthy, I looked sick. The light was gone. I couldn’t let that happen.

2. In connection with the above: no way in HELL could I stand any more people being attracted to me as they are. When young, I always hated to pass the barracks in my city, or a working site, or a bar with tables outside. I didn’t have the defences, didn’t know how to blend with the surroundings, make my early developed body talk for me, send do-not-approach signals. I guess I see some of my extra weight as a protection against intruders.

3. Whenever I lost lots of weight, I came back for even more of it, so it’s no use, really. Diet this, diet that, exercise program this and that – anything temporary only makes your body panic. Also, if you starve yourself of anything, it’s hard to be happy. And I like to be happy.

4. I like to eat, especially because of different tastes, no way in HELL I’m letting go of any type of food. Our family has always been guilty of emotional eating, eating standing up by the fridge in the night, as if that doesn’t count, eating instead of kissing, eating from the nerves, eating to calm the hangover, eating drunk, drinking instead of eating. Now that I’ve changed the surroundings, this is not happening any more, and I can grin with my amore at the idea of making sandwiches for the 5-hour train ride. Our family made a ritual out of eating on the train. We started eating at the first station after boarding.

5. I’m on a lazy side, and doing the daily marine-like training jog with my ex dog with mixed results made me say, ahhhh fuck that shit. I had the lunar (or solar or whatever that little watch-like calorie-burning gadget is called), I was running (whoever knows me well knows how much I’ve always dreaded running), I was lifting the log, crouching with it on my shoulders, I removed snow of a bench to do sit-ups, I lifted my legs and my ass, warming up, cooling down, the works. Daily. Sometimes I climbed the nearest hill and did all this at the top and ran off it. I liked doing it. My body was toning up, for sure, but all in all – considering the efforts, the effect left something to be desired. So I lost the drive.

piran5 031

This was about five years ago. What do you see? I see a newly blonde (because she needed a change). I see muscles, and a JC pose and a palm tree to add to the ambience. But most of all I see a well-prepared para-masochist (look at the stones for lifting!) doing what nobody with chest as big should be obliged to do. (I was not directly forced by anybody other than myself, and indirectly?) And then, then I stopped doing that and crossed over to the fat side. They have cookies. Photo: some sadist

6. I hurt my heel to that 30-min daily pump-up routine with that pro chick on youtube (even though I was fully warmed up). This was my next attempt to do something, I’m cyclical like that. This was just before meeting with my love for the first time. Every day I did this vigorous work-out until I messed up my Achilles tendon, so I hobbled around Roma a little. I still do sometimes, after sitting for a long time, until my foot warms up. The light in his eyes as he proclaimed “You are so FIRM!” made up for it. I have NEVER thought of myself as firm, but in Italy this becomes relative. Here the national sport is automobilism.

7. The world hunger is upon us and, trust me, our sort will be better off. When I try to piss somebody off, I say that I have the fat gene, and that the fat gene is a smart gene.

8. It’s fun to enter a store and ask the seller if they have anything at all that fits me and could she please search for it. (This is adverse psychology, of course, or some such term, actually I’m fuming at the lack of choice for big sizes, and quite frankly, I’m thrilled if I can squeeze into the last available size before moving into specialised stores.)

9. His hand on my tummy, fuelling the love into me, absolute lack of any resentment or unease or suggestions for improving.

10. For a long time I believed that fat people are happy people. I know we can be also traumatized, frustrated, bordering on – or clearly – unhealthy, and cheerfulness is often a façade. However, the society is bent on taking the last drops of happy dew away from us. So, yeah, I’m fat as a fuck-you as well.

≈ Manja Maksimovič ≈

Throwback Thursday – Andrej Šifrer: Fat people are happy people

“They pretend not to hear anything about the heart attack, the fat people,

they just turn off the radio and TV,

If I eat, I won’t know, is the slogan of these people,

The Earth is fat too, and nothing happens to it.”

(translated on the spot by MM)

It seems some things have changed since the 70’s. The Earth is being happened to.

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