Just.

If there’s anyone who can melt me into a puddle with just a few words, it’s my younger girl, Gean. She’s a real mummy’s girl, that one.

Of course, I have to mention how she painstakingly copied SIX pages of lyric just so she can serenade me from the pages (so cute!)

And then there is that incident where her friend chanced upon our cutesy neoprint and made a comment like ‘Wah, your mum’s quite fat’.

Our friend positively puffed up her chest and bellowed,

‘You don’t know anything ok! My mum is exercising now and she lost a lot of weight OK!’

She was still bristling indignant when she related the matter after ballet class. Heh.

On a sidenote:

Gean’s first day at school.

There’s something very poignant about this photo that I can’t put my finger on.

This seriously makes me sad.

I mean, I have never felt that pressure from my parents about my weight or size. Yes, my mum calls me “fei po” in Cantonese (affectionately though), but she always makes me pack food home whenever we pop back to her place. And she always spoons more food for me….while discussing about the different diets. *rolls eyes*

Yes, this is the fat blimp who stuffs her face and never bothers with diets or exercise (swimming when I feel like it does not count as exercise)

And Big, who loves to feed me and who constantly tells me that he loves me as I am and that I am NOT fat, does not help matters. He’s also fond of random praises for me (out of nowhere!) and reaffirmation that he totally adores my figure. So, really, no help at all.

I think the worst enemy is myself. Really, I should be losing a good few pounds (and I am sure my dieting, colon cleansing colleagues agree) but really, I just cannot be bothered. And I am not exaggerating. I stand at 1.68m and my weight is 68kg. Someone please tell me my BMI?

I just love my food too much, and am satisfied as long as I don’t put on more weight. Maintenance pleases me as is.

I think I have too much self acceptance. I mean, sure I feel a little odd when I see someone being a size 0 even after two kids. But it disappears in about a few seconds, and I am back to having Hokkien noodles for lunch and muffins for tea.  Duh.

The other half also plays a big part. I have friends who are upset that their husbands think they are fat after giving birth. I also have friends whose husbands adore them as much as, if not more than before they had given birth. And the men who leave their wives for a slimmer and younger version… I say, good luck to them. Just don’t come running back when the pasture looks less green. Very often, the spurned wives had already moved on and made a better life for themselves.

But I digress.