Friday, June 26, 2009

Telly at 3am is no good

Ha, now that I finally discovered I've got IPTV, I've spent evenings in watching loads of it, catching up on what I've been missing out. And after a couple hours of repetitive news of Michael Jackson's death (feels surreal innit?) and a call to my mom at 7am her time to inform her (she was less than pleased), I just decided to swap channels to BBC1...and watched something that's fluffy but pretty close to my heart.

It was Claire Richards from Steps and her journey into weight loss and wedding day. She went from size 18 to 10 within 8 months, and I cried watching her. There were scenes of her trying on clothes from her fat days, and the elation, disbelief and disgust of her former self. The before and after photos. the symbolic getting rid of her fat clothes. The difficulty of losing that last bit of stubborn pudge.

Yeah, I've been there. But what struck me was, that inadequacy for being big (contradictory, no?), the questioning other girls on self-image and feelings about certain things, and the never really goes does it. It comes back like a phantom, haunting you and crippling you at vital moments. At one point she said, she'll never ever want to go through all that again. I nodded, and cried. It wasn't easy, I'd never want to go through what I did to lose that weight, but now I'm slowly watching myself pile up, drop off, pile up, drop off, and its horrible. I know its more to do with my lifestyle and refusal to join a gym or do any sort of hardcore fitness stuff. I don't remember how I did it, I know what motivated me, and sometimes I just need to remind myself I've came a long, long way.

Growing up being big in a society that requires you to be thin to be accepted left such an impression on me, that even being in a nation where I am short and small does not help me kick off the impression that I'm still too fat and too plain. Some days I know I'm not. Others, I fake the confidence. I wonder how many girls live their lives in constant vengeance about their sizes, and constant struggle to accept and love themselves. Maybe more than we'll ever suspect. It reassures me that I'm not alone, not by long measure. I know I've written about this time and again, but goes to show even with time lapsing behind me, nothing changes too much, does it. I'll forever be haunted by my phantoms, and it'll be up to me to banish them, or at least, keep them under control.

In the end, Claire was glowing and absolutely beautiful in her wedding dress. I know I harbour dreams of trying on and having pictures of me in a dress, without a man, because I just want to look beautiful, and like a bride. Pure vanity; it doesn't mean I want to get married though! I guess its true every woman, secretly, dreamt of a dream wedding. Me, I just dream of the perfect dress. And the perfect body.

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