On acceptance of being a fat black woman ...

... it hasn't happened. Will it ever happen? Probably. But I need to go through a mental process that ain't done yet.

I was always the skinny one in my family growing up. In fact someone from my former church and a UWI classmate both told me that I looked like I was adopted. They meant this is a good way, mind you. And although I was insulted on behalf of my family, part of me was smug. I was skinny. All fat people could just suck it.

But then, I took three years to gain the infamous freshman 15, and after that, everything spiraled out of control. I'm now 30 to 35 pounds heavier than I have ever been in my life. Yick. I used to eat everything in sight and not gain a pound; that was when I had strenuous weekly dance rehearsals and did Tae-Bo every other day. Now, I'm lazier. Self-control is difficult. I shouldn't eat white bread, or drink soft drinks. But what the heck. We only live once *gnawing on greasy chicken wing*.

The downside here is that I am not comfortable at this place. I will never look like I did at 19; I was a vegetarian, had just gotten over a dengue attack, did not drink alcohol and ate beans like crazy. But I want to look like a version of myself that I am comfortable with. I am actually ok with being curvier and softer; being hard-bodied is not all its cracked up to be and I like having some 'shape'. I want to not rip skirts, bulge out of pants and tops and look like I'm pregnant in maxi dresses. I want to find clothes that fit, God help me. I want to not look in the mirror and see a double chin. I would love to dispense with shape wear because my fluffy flesh is also firm.

In addition to that, lethargy and inactivity depress me. When I exercise, even if I'm not losing anything, I feel better about myself. Guess those endorphins really do work.

I love Grace Nichols' collection entitled The Fat Black Woman's Poems; they are her reclamation of the negative stereotypes that have followed fat black women since slavery. But I got depressed again because most of the fat I gained is around my mid-section, not my behind. Score one for my non-black heritage.

So now everyone is thinking, well just go exercise, nuggle head!

Yeah. Exercise.

My sis and I went to the gym regularly for six months. I lost no weight and one inch off my waist. To fit into my wedding dress, I stopped eating bread almost entirely, eschewed cake, pies, and all sweet things, exercised regularly. And I only began to lose inches off my waist (again, I lost no poundage) when I started taking a supplement called Molkosan. I may sound like a crazy Trevor Sayers infomercial, but it's true. Molkosan helps to boost your metabolism, so I'm hoping that's why it worked for me. And it's been proven that women are at more of a disadvantage to losing weight than men are because our hormones interfere with metabolism. It's also been said that your metabolism takes a dip at age 25. And I'm realising the truth of all this now, before being able to blame it on pregnancy weight and being busy with the kids.

All of that to say ... the diet is back on, in less vicious force, but back on. I won't ever just be able to eat what I want again and not have to deal with consequences. It's kind of like the discipline of writing. I can't just spit out poems or features in a cliched format, without any self-editing or craft, and expect rave reviews. It ain't gonna happen. Sigh.

Anybody have any bottled self-discipline I can buy?