OH dear, the word F…A…T. Every lady’s most hateful word when it comes to physical appearance. Well, I wasn’t bothered with the word F..A..T. My way of handling that was
“If am too FAT for you to stand, you can either deal with it or die saying it”.
Back to how I got to 140kg 😫 to the point of wearing UK jeans size 24/26…Naturally I am not a sweet tooth person. Seriously guys, I was never a fan. All the sweet drinks, candies, biscuits, etc. but when it comes to rice, YES “RICE” I was the head of states of rice republic.
The genesis of my weight started when I had an accident that got me bed ridden for 2 months. Coupled with my love for rice, the pounds couldn’t stop piling up.Well in an African/Nigerian house what else is better than some nice spicy jellof rice, banga rice or our Sunday rice and stew. Rice in the cooker, rice in the pot and rice in the fridge. It’s like this: I could eat any kind of rice, tasty or not, once its rice, am game. I could eat rice morning, afternoon and night for like a year (disgusting right? but who cares). I dislike any swallow (eba and soup); the only food I loved was rice. I couldn’t be bothered how much rice I ate and all the carbs in it.
They say, what you don’t know cannot kill you, but I say: what you don’t know might be killing you slowly.
In my case, the plate upon plates of rice I was consuming was killing be gradually. The scale and dress size kept going up and the height kept going down. It was terrible considering that as a child, I was as skinny as a stick. My mum would beg me eat.
With the weight came health issues, you want to run but (hello!) don’t try doing that cause the consequences might be great. With every step I took, I was out of breath. Yet I didn’t stop eating rice. By the time I realised it, I was 140kg. Imagine carrying 20kg luggage then 7 of that. Good thing is I’ve taken control of my body.