Carrying the Weight

Today I went to a discount clothing store and bought 2 pairs of pants size extra large of the yoga/fitness stretchy variety.  In the process of trying on pants, I had to confront the virtual reality of how my body REALLY looks versus what I’ve projected it looking. Despite the fact I just did a liver and gallbladder flush, spent over 4 months doing vitamin, mineral and amino acid supplementation, have upped my exercise life with yoga, walking, dancing and spin classes, I AM.  STILL.  FAT. Grotesquely so. I have humps, lumps and big round countries hanging  off my torso from the bottom of my  sternum to below the navel. Not to mention the  sagging hams of my upper arms, my rear and the sagging inner thighs and upper hips. I have a lower abdominal kangaroo pouch of soft fat below my belly button which protrudes out and down. I love my belly, sagging or not, for the comfort it’s brought me, but I know I’m carrying quite a load healthwise.

Make no mistake about it, I feel better and more fit. I’ve had my best drumming year ever. But I look old, dumpy, frumpy, wrinkled and F-A-T.  My guy, ever the poor eater and excessive smoker, has been eating slim fast bars and shakes, drinking water, doing situps, and starving himself to  losing weight. Despite his  chronic, often unmanageable irritability, paranoia, depression and rage, which I attribute to longstanding mega nutritional deficiency, he is losing weight. Life is definitely not fair in this regard but it boils down to me not getting to the root of why I’m shaped like Kung Fu Panda.

I weigh more than my guy now, and I’m certain it’s because I’m “carrying” all the weight for the relationship with money, responsibility, and time. He’s not carrying his, and how to safely change that is far from seeming possible, but there must be a way.


About Shirley

I started this blog to expand and explore my rhythm horizons as a hand drummer. That exploration includes touching on the rest of my life and inner world as authentically and truthfully as possible.
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