Last night, while I was skyping with my mother (who is currently touring the USofA), I watched her meticulously take me through her shopping. Gingerly holding up everything she’s bought me, one piece at a time. The list has been almost nonexistent, this year because there’s nothing I really want. So amma has gone ahead and just bought a bunch of things that reminded her of me, and that she thought I might like. The stash includes a red beach dress, two pairs of shorts and colourful socks.
As she held up the cutest checkered shorts, I stifled a gasp.
She hasnt seen me in 6 months. A time in which various parts of my body have expanded exponentially. Stretching to all new lengths (and and breadths and widths too) leaving me at my fattest best, in possibly all my life. 6 months ago I was thinner than I am now. A lot thinner. 6 months ago I wasn’t limited to half my wardrobe — the over sized, flowy half, having to ignore the figure hugging, flattering side. 6 months ago I was still exercising everyday.
“OMG amma, what if it doesn’t fit me?”, I asked, expressing my concern, hoping to hear from a mother, what every distraught daughter likes to hear at a time like this. Actually I was also hoping to hear what she has always honestly told me. Her usual response: don’t be silly, you’re not fat! Eat what you want, exercise to balance it out and you’ll be fine.
“Oh yeah, you better start doing something quick. Its really beginning to show in your recent pictures,” she said.
And that’s when it really hit me. Amma is nonchalant about such things. Honest and nonchalant. Like mothers usually are. No sugarcoating the truth. No making me feel better about matters that I shouldn’t be deluding into believing. If she says something, she means business. Because mothers never lie.
And so still reeling under the effect of the morbid truth, I have made a new beginning today. I’ve started running again.
After weeks and months of being lazy, procrastinating, snoozing the alarm, reaching saturation and feeling altogether demotivated and like a fat slob, I suddenly had a moment of inspiration. And this time, I acted upon it quickly. It happened like a bolt out of the blue, while I sat finishing up typing a document, listening to the song that’s on loop today. I glanced outside. The rain had stopped, the skies had cleared and everything looked just so green and inviting.
Quickly getting into my running pants and my sneakers, grabbing my phone now loaded with music, I ran out. And rediscovered my endorphins again.
To be out in the open again, breathing in the crisp moist air just filled me with an energy I cant begin to describe. To be outdoors, running, feeling my heart race and my legs pushing against the concrete beneath me, moving steadily forward with every aching step, was immensely satisfying. And then of course, that familiar burst of energy, the heady feeling that tricks you into believing you can keep going, and nothing can stop you.
Hello, Mr. Endorphin Rush, its good to see you again! Oh, I’ve missed you so. You have no idea how much!
Let’s hope this is a new beginning. One that I will keep going. Until I get back into the clothes I no longer look at. And until I get amma to say I’m looking just like I used to, again.
And this, ladies and gentlemen of hAAthidom, is incidentally my 850th post :)