A long long time ago, I watched a movie based on a story written by horror maestro Stephen King. In it, Mr King made awful things happen to some weight-obssessed individuals. It was aptly titled "Thinner".
Growing up, people always said I was skinny and some would even use the term 'underweight'. Technically, based on the ubiquitous chart detailing the so-called Body Mass Index, I was never under-weight and have always scraped into the normal category. Like many Asians, I am pear-shaped. Much flab occurs in my thighs, and this is evidenced in the jelly-wobble that can be seen in shorts. A so-called friend once unkindly used the term 'thunder thighs'.
I lost some weight in my second year in China. Clothes became a little loose, but I wasn't concerned. It wasn't after reading online that weight loss could be a subtle indication of the worsening of a pre-existing health condition that I got on the scale to ascertain the loss. I weighed in 3 kilograms lighter than usual, meaning I was closer to crossing the border to 'underweight' than ever before. Worried, I tried to increase food consumption.
While in Singapore for a visit, a number of friends were able to tell the difference. A surprise, for I'd not have been able to tell had someone I saw once or twice in the past year lost or gained that small amount of weight. A bigger surprise, for a few friends I never thought were watchers of others' weight turned out to be rather avid watchers. Some even opined that I look better thinner.As it turns out, I had been operating under the following assumptions:
1. If I can't tell the difference, they can't tell the difference.
2. Weight watchers only watch their own weight.
3. Only weight-obssessed girly-girls can tell a 3 kilogram difference.
But now I know better. The truth is a tad scary.Much eating and lounging around the house has occurred over the last 60 days. My pants felt tight the other day. Time to get some exercise. Normally this would involve going jogging in the evening. Now, at that time of the day, I've unfortunately taken to watching some tv drama or other, propped up on the sofa. By the time the television is turned off, it is night.
To get around this problem, I placed in my room an exercise equipment known as the 'Shape and Twist'. It is a low machine on which the user, in an upright position, moves up and down on two pedals, s'posedly twisting the body as they move the steps.
Several mornings later, I got out of bed and promptly tripped over the Shape and Twist. Comically, I had socks on, so it in fact was a trip-and-slip. No one witnessed its occurrence, and all I have to show for it is a poorly bruised shin. How tragic.
