Keeping a deaf ear.

People always say:

Happiness comes from with in. The only way to be truely happy is to love one’s self.

Now. The person who wrote this MUST be from a politically correct country. There is just no other explanation. Because – if you come from MY part of the world, no matter how hard you TRY to aclimatise to your lumps and bumps, learn to accept and even like your good features ( in your own eyes that is), there is always SOMEONE who plans to shatter your self esteem with statements like:

• Whoooaaa, look at the spots on your face. What happened? Have you been munching too much oily food? You know it’s bad for you
• OMG you’re soooo fat! ( this is the most common method of greeting in motherland. I feel like answering back, yes, it’s very nice to see you again too.
• You know you shouldn’t really wear that kind of clothes. They make you look pregnant… etc.
• do you want to take Jaja’s old clothes? She has lost sooo much weight and you might fit in her clothes.

The list just goes on.

Before I left La La land, I had mentally prepared myself for the worst, the kind of pain that used to leave me locked in a room for days – the psychological abuse. You see, in the past whenever I used to go home, I would be greeted by my dad with the above hurtful remarks at the airport. Immediately all the elated, feel good, happy to be home and see my family feelings dampen, as though someone  put a very sharp pin right in to my heart, and burst the happy bubble. Lately, I think mainly because of warnings from my step mother to mind his mouth, or maybe the fact that he’s getting older and things like this don’t matter just as much, he is not listed in my common fellow insulters. However much to my dismay, can’t say I was really surprised by it, there are STILL plenty of poisonous fish in the sea, and thus the abuse just keeps on coming.

It’s only been a week today.

Things have not been looking up all that much, but still I am in my readjustment mode so, come what may I was handling it. To date I have had 7 insults, which I face with a huge smile and some smirky return comments. World record, I thought to to my self. Only 7?

There I was not feeling too bad with myself.

This morning however, as we made our way to the car for some fine dining ( yeah, right), I overheard the maid ask my mother in law, ‘is she expecting?’, whilst gesturing on her tummy and pointing at me. Tears just started rolling off my face, but I quickly got in the car, and said, nope, just pure old fat.

I don’t what came over me. Because from that moment, I just couldn’t stop crying. I cried through the meal, with my MIL trying to make awkward conversation, my SIL just looking at their plates, and me maintaining no eye contact with anyone but chatting away in lightning speed. I hated myself for letting it get to me.

But SERIOUSLY.

How does one learn to love themselves when its clear that people are offended by one’s own presence?????

The thing is, I can’t be THAT ugly or THAT fat.

With my usual emotional ramblings on my old blog, one of my friend actually wrote to me that she had always thought that I was the prettiest girl in school and that I must learn to not let my appearance get in the way of my happiness. I have had my share  of admires (one guy became gay after I dumped him ‘but what the hey). I am married for goodness sake. I had a few men turn their heads for me (I know, how shallow of me to measure myself based on this but again, what the hey), and will always remember being asked out by this very very HOT guy.

Fair enough, I AM fat. But not the I can’t fit through a door kind of fat. Or the bed bound fat. I am the kind of fat person who:

• Can beat her super skinny and active friends at racket sports. I DO run after the ball
• may NOT be the fastest runner in the world, but CAN still outrun some people in a long distance run
• a relatively strong swimmer
• eats relatively healthily whenever she can

I was 78 kg which was overweight for my 5 ft 6′ height. 3 years down the line, I gained 15 kg mainly because:

• inability to eat proper meal due to my nature of the job. If and when I do get to eat, all I want is CARB.
• The hubs is a masterchef wannabe. EVERY meal has to be  a good hearty meal. NONE of this beans on toast / instant soup with a sandwich kind of crap pre marital bliss.
• I also have been eating MALE size meals, which I shouldn’t be
• After my run, I injured my other knee and now with bilateral knee pain and left hip pain at 27, physical activity is limited
• I binge eat when I am depressed. And with the things in my life right now plus all the worries in the world, this means constant munching

My BMI is now 33. I have ACTUALLY tipped into obesity. Which I suppose is fair enough reason for people to bring up the weight issue, sensitive as it may be. Despite all this however,  with this heavy load of lard that I carry, I still beat my husband (relatively fit, he cycled 22 km daily to work ) at tennis, and my SIL at badminton.

So there.

I suppose I must learn a coy way to either re-insult them or make them feel guilty for insulting me. Or just learn to keep a deaf ear.
I probably should thank these people, as eventhough they crush myself esteem, make me want to kill myself, forbid myself from everlooking at the mirror, have this emmense fear of trying on new clothes – they are making me join in the craze going round in my IL’s family, which is what looks like only a spoonful of rice per meal, or even better, let’s skip it all together. After this morning’s fiasco, today I have only eaten chicken and vegetable for brunch, and some noodles for dinner. THAT IS ALL.

As if life isn’t miserable enough at the moment.

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