The Fat Tap!
She looked into the floor-length mirror for the 10th time that morning. Her office party was in the offing and she needed the perfect dress. Something that was classy and professional, possibly asserting that she was ready for that promotion. But something looked off about the dress that morning. Maybe blue REALLY isn’t her color. ‘It looked perfect when I bought it’, she thought. With a sigh, she let her mind wander into the abyss of self-cynicism: If only she hadn’t eaten that last piece of chocolate the previous night, maybe that bulge around her waist wouldn’t have looked so hideous. If only she had the time to work out in the morning and evening, then maybe she would’ve looked a little like those actresses on the magazine covers. If only she could earn a little more money to hire that celebrity fitness trainer to target those wiggly arms. If only she could open a tap somewhere and all the fat could just flow out! If only she could fit into that Blue Chanel dress perfectly.
She looked back into her Aspen wardrobe and reached out to her flannel shirt – billowing trousers combination, yet again. She placed it in front of her reflection, while trying to convince herself that she wasn’t fat and that someday she would look good in Chanel. All she had to do was control her diet and resist all those saccharine snacks at 4 pm…..till the party. But she couldn’t completely quell her disappointment. After eating healthy and getting her heart-healthy workout almost every day, it was easy to get discouraged when that pointer on the scale didn’t move. It seemed effortless to just reach out to that appetizing chocolate chip cookie or scrumptious aloo paratha. Yet, she always made the “nutritious” choice, assuring herself of the plentiful benefits. So, why was there no change? She had read, a million times, about how switching to such a lifestyle would manifest that size 4 or the “right” weight for her height. That flannel shirt proved that she was nowhere near her goal, a whole month later.
Through the corner of her eye, she could see the flickering TV screen belting out yet another “Fitness” contraption, promising to lower her BMI in 2 weeks or less. Oh! How she despised those models, or did she secretly just feel jealous of those perfectly structured body frames? Did they really not eat anything fattening? She quickly googled “fashion model diet” to satisfy her curiosity and assess if she was doing it right, just as she did with the 7 other diet and exercise based tabs on her browser. She knew she had to be patient and was constantly advised to endure the diet for a longer period of time to realize the success. But she wasn’t happy. I suppose none of her friends were either. After all, everyone seemed to after the elusive perfect figure.
Amongst her “thin” friends, she knew she looked like a hippopotamus. None in her circle seemed impressed by her PhD or her philanthropic conquests but they seemed to instantly notice if she carried a few extra pounds on her love handles. Their observations did push her to maintain her look as best as she could, but somedays it just wasn’t enough. ‘You’re becoming obsessed about unnecessary things, just focus on your tummy’ rang a familiar motherly voice, as she read through the GM diet requirements. That’s all she needed to do, shed 4 inches off her mid-section, 4 inches off her hip, 2 inches off her arms, 4 inches off her upper thigh, 2 inches off her calf……….
She knew her struggle was far from over as she continued to look into her laptop and went through the seven exercises that would lengthen her legs in a week.