Fighting the Flab - end of week four

Same weight, same waist size. I have plateaued now for what seems like forever. So, instead of whinging about my lack of achievement, I thought I would share my latest writing exercise with you. This week we are studying Point of View and we had to write a self portrait. Here is mine:

Self Portrait

I am so close to being 52 it is already a done deal. The day after tomorrow is my birthday. I don’t mind ageing, although I would prefer more control over my physical body. I am tall, 172cms, or 5’8” in the old language which, by the way, is far easier for me to think in. I had to Google “height conversion” to find my height in centimetres. I’ve done it many times before.

I am average weight at 73kg. I just fit into the healthy BMI range. But average weight doesn’t tell you that I’m unhappy about my weight. It doesn’t tell you that I wish I was the same weight as in my teens and early twenties. Average weight doesn’t explain how, even though I watch what I eat and exercise furiously every day; I still remain the same – average. I explain my obsession with weight by using the example of my mother’s diabetes as motivation to stay slim. She had late onset diabetes brought on mainly by weight gain in middle age and I am determined not to go down the same path. But my obsession is more than that. I am not happy with this ring of fat around my belly. It hampers my movements. I feel it when I’m sitting down. It is uncomfortable.

My hair falls just below my shoulders and is naturally wavy. When wet it becomes curly. I am growing it longer. I like the feel of long hair. At the moment it is dark brown with caramel highlights. But over the years it has been many different lengths and various colours.

I like my eyes. They are hazel. Now and again they look more green than brown. If I didn’t already wear contact lenses for sight I would think about getting coloured lenses to enhance the green. I don’t like my nose. It is too big. But it is the family nose. It is my father’s nose and it is the nose my three boys have.

I tan naturally and I love the sun and its warmth. I don’t like being cold and grey days make me feel sad. Knowing this I wonder why I live in Melbourne. But I love Melbourne with all of its greys and blacks and colours and quirks. I love the pace of the city, the energy of the people and the liveliness of the events. Melbourne is culture and multiculture, tradition and innovation, fashion and independence, sport and food, nightlife and family life.

I am addicted to my computer. I love Googling information and I Facebook regularly. I read as much online as I do books in bed at night or during lazy weekend mornings. I love AFL football. I love music and dancing, conversations and debates. I like shoes. I like fashion. I wish I could win a million dollars and spend thousands on a new wardrobe. I love the beach and the ocean. I love the calmness of the bay and I love the crashing of an angry ocean in the middle of the night. But more than anything I love my three sons, no longer boys but adults in their own right. I love my life.