11.5.00

Smooth Red Velvet

I actually completed the instructional Tae-Bo tape today, at around 2:30am. This mightn't seem like an accomplishment, but considering that on my last attempt I ended up bailing out halfway through the workout, I'm going to call it my first stepping stone to the red velvet jeans.

About three years ago, I was browsing through a random clothing store with my mother, when I spied a pair of red pants. they were vibrant and eye-catching - the kind of thing I wouldn't normally wear. I was drawn to them and found, upon touching them, that they were a soft velvet. This was a definite plus as velvet and valour are amongst my favourite textures. The tag in the back said "18", so I tried them on whilst my mother waited.

I was disappointed - they fit my legs but not my waist. The waist of the jeans seemed out of proportion to the rest of them, and as long as I couldn't fit into them there didn't really seem to be any point in buying them. My mother, however, was willing to pay for them since they were on sale - she had faith that I could fit into them properly, eventually.

They've been sitting in my chest of drawers ever since.

I'm not working towards wearing them in order to please my mother; I'm working towards being able to fit into them because fo the last three years, I've slowly but surely lost my resolve to be fit and healthy. I am fat - it's not something I'm proud to admit. I used to be curvy in my highschool years - not thin, and I did have a flabby midsection, but I wasn't fat as I always thought. Old photographs (maybe not old, per se; five years ago probably doesn't count as "old") make me want to weep - where once I thought I was hideously obese, I was actually pretty all along, with a defined face and a notable lack of a double chin.

Now when I look in the mirror, I see the actuality of my low self-image - I was once stocked with the usual puppyfat, caught up in thinking I was more overweight than I actually was... and now I just am. I'm fat.

Needless to say, this fact combined with my still low self-image means that most of the time I feel ugly and undesirable. Being unfit and puffing even when I'm merely tying my shoelaces compounds these feelings, until I end up losing my hope, thinking to myself, "I might as well just have that packet of Doritos because I'm never going to look any good."

I don't want to give into that despair anymore.

I want to look in the mirror and see the line of my jaw. I want to go for a walk and not come home drenched in sweat. I want to pull on a pair of pants and not have that roll of fat above my waist sitting over the waistband. I want to fit into the dress I wore to my sisters' wedding - the one in which I thought I looked ugly, but with retrospect, did not.

This all sounds very superficial, I'm sure - but it's not all about looks. Being fat is uncomfortable. Sure, I might be warmer than the average Jo in winter, or I might be pleasant for my friends to cuddle up to, but when summer comes along - forget it. The only relief, with the bonus of weightlessness, is swimming.

One word: swimsuit.

I haven't worn one for approximately four years.

I want to be able to wear one, and go swimming without an oversized t-shirt hiding my excess flesh.

I don't have designs on being some kind of supermodel. I am never going to be perfect, and that's a fact I can accept. I just want to be fit and healthy, and fit into a few sizes smaller than I do currently, with a little room to spare. I want to sit on Nathan's lap and not feel as though I'm crushing him. I want to be comfortable in a seat on a plane, not cursing my thick thighs and wondering why the tray won't sit flat against my lap.

These aren't superficial wants - they're just simple needs. Everyone yearns for comfort, and that's what I'm asking for; I'm willing to work for it.

Those red velvet jeans are just an added incentive.