Weight

I think I need to address this subject, simply because friends and family back home are freaking out about my weight.

Like most girls my age, I am concerned about my weight. However, I’m not obsessed. Most people I know are on some form of food intake restriction or another. I, on the other hand, am terrible with my own health. Diets and exercise require discipline and focus, both of which I lack. My relatively decent metabolism (which betrays me when I’m stressed nonetheless) allows my weight to increase by a couple of kilos, plateau, then promptly drop again. All this with no actual effort from me.

When I started working life, I didn’t eat lunch or breakfast. I was assumed to possess some eating disorder or another. I suppose in a way, they were right. You see, I did all my tertiary studies via night classes. Most of which ended around 10pm. Therefore my entire schedule was upside down. I used to wake up at 1pm, go off for classes around 2pm or 5pm, then eat a massive dinner around 11pm before going to sleep around 3am. This was pretty much my schedule for three years.

Yes, I only ate once a day. Which actually worked really well for me. My acne disappeared, I completely stopped sweating and my digestion was excellent. But my single meal would be equivalent to two truck drivers’ dinners. I would have a main dish (like fried rice/ noodles), 4 peanut butter (or cheese) sandwiches, some form of dessert and other leftovers from the fridge. I was definitely not malnourished and never starved myself. Basically, I was only ever hungry during the night. I did snack all day on junk food.

I tried continuing this habit while working a full time job, but it was too difficult. I’d get home around 6pm or 7pm and fall asleep by 9pm or 10pm. Eating meals as large as that took too much time. I eventually developed the habit of balancing my meals out over the day.

I do the same now in Australia. When I’d first arrived in spring, it was relatively cool (about 20C or so, and further chilled by strong sea breezes). I’d eat 4 solid meals and munch on a packet of biscuits everyday. Miraculously, I did not balloon into “a house” (as X says I will). However before Christmas, we stayed with some friends who didn’t place much focus on meals in general. Snacking was frowned upon (they had young, impressionable kids) and over those 5 days, I’m pretty sure I lost a bit of weight (which duly returned upon Christmas as we were extremely over well fed).

Today, after being told the 5th or 6th time I looked “so skinny”, I weighed myself. I actually have some weird inferior complex with weighing machines (I had an awful ex who used to call me chubby even though I weighed only 41kg then) and mirrors (having been such a hideous child so I tend to avoid them as much as possible).

I’d gained 2kg.

Here lies the problem. How could I have possibly gained 2kg, yet still fit in my clothes fine and have people tell me I’ve lost weight?