EXERCISING WHILE FAT

Waffles

 

I don’t know why I am writing this.

I haven’t touched pen to paper in a few months and I have a bunch of unfinished articles just looking unto me, their absolute author and finisher. This is not a post to tell you about how intermittently miserable I have been in the last few months. It is an attempt at telling you about Exercising while fat. This might be a new series chronicling my new lifestyle or it may just be me itching to tell you of early mornings at the gym, painful spin classes and weird looking men with a beard that seems to have been carved by a land scape artist.

I used to run… Yes, let that sink in. I used to run a 10k on Saturday mornings, squeeze in a 5k on some nights when I couldn’t sleep and some days when I am feeling great it’s a 15 kilometre walk. I remember a time in University, I had walked to the neighbouring town and it had taken longer than expected, the security guards at Belof house came looking for me because they waited for me to come back at the usual time and I didn’t— I just kept thinking to myself, who needs a boyfriend when I have my Hostel security?

Photo Collage Maker_6BAzDC
When I was popping like popcorn.

I lived an active lifestyle and was the poster child for “thick fit”. Until one day, Eba and her cohorts took over. I started to eat with more abandon and automatically stopped worrying about fitness. A few years of off and on fitness routines and weak ass attempts at a life style change I had gained more than 20kg. Now, this 20kg is a new one, there were some unresolved fat issues pending.

*Insert fake gasp*

I am not one of those fat people who think much of weight gain. I usually take things easy, I am obsessed with myself and I can do no wrong in my own eyes so the weight gain didn’t bother me. This is how I see myself on most days— I am a fantastic person with a decent smile and my life was a proper PHAT GIRLS movie. I don’t care much for Fashion so I didn’t feel any pressure on the fashion end because my all my clothes were leggings anyway.

I didn’t notice I had gained so much weight until February this year, I got on a plane to South Africa and I noticed the seat belt in the Airplane had become shorter. I remember thinking to myself, did they just build this plane because it has short ass seat belts. — The absolute reach! I told you, I can do no wrong.

Somehow I knew I had gained weight but I didn’t care — in hindsight, I had internalised the seat belt incident… I am tired of writing about this history of fatness. Let’s get to the jwizzy stuff.

A few weeks ago, I decided to start a diet and transition into a sustainable fitness lifestyle for the hundredth time.  As usual, I made a rather abrupt decision to change my life. I thought this was a joke but I have worked out 5-6 times a week for the last 6 weeks. I have also cleaned up my diet and I feel considerably good about it.

The only problem however is that although I am 29 years old, my knees are 55 years old. I now save my knees for working out: this means I take small steps, don’t climb stairs in a rush and I have stayed away from indiscriminate Shoki-ing— Even if you play Small Doctor, I’ll just do a little dutty wine and save the fucking knees! Everything was amazing until about three weeks into the lifestyle change and I noticed that climbing stairs had become something I had to handle with care. I almost miss my 20kg because I think the excess fat cushioned my joints— I have lost a good part of my beloved 20kg and I plan to lose the extra 20 I have carried around for almost a decade so you see, my waka has only just begun.

I don’t know what my motivation is but I am sure it has something to do with the fact that I’ll be 30 next year and my metabolism will probably slow down, that’s like saying a snail will slow down—Haaaaaayyyy God!

You see, I am was not your average fat girl, I was the type you would run into at a building and I would be scaling the stairs 2-3 at a time. This has nothing to do with fact that I am a somewhat fit fat girl, it’s just because I am incredibly naughty.

I have lost my train of thought and I am wondering why I began to write this piece.

 

I guess what I was trying to say is “I’M RECLAIMING MY TIME”

 

This might be a new series.

I don’t know.

LARZ OUT.

 

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