Posts

I want to lose weight but I don’t want to hear the mention of exercise, dietary changes, portion control, surgery or any non-surgical procedure, starvation, or any slimming tea that cannot work within 4days of use and cannot prevent the recurrence of fat. In other words, I need to lose weight by doing one magical thing once to make the extra fat disappear never to appear again.

One concept (out of many) brought by the white man that I do not appreciate is that of ‘fat’ culture. Fat girls used to be the divas in Africa. But no! The white people zoomed in and said ‘hey, see those bunch of chubby happy people, let’s go call them fat and try to make them miserable’, all because of what? So that I’ll stop eating fried meat? Lai lai.

What is fat to me maybe not be fat to you. My definition of a fat person is completely different from that of the white man who categorizes people as either anorexic or obese. What they don’t know is that all those ‘fat girls’ who get bullied in high school are normal in weight over here. 

Anyway, as a fat girl everywhere (and I use the adjective ’fat’ with so much fondness), problems unique to your body size tend to arise. For example the extra awareness of body mass and the space it takes, especially when you want to take public transport and the only spot available is one between two fat women (I hardly see fat men in public transport), and you have to squeeze your own fat to join them, and they just mash you to one side, you literally feel your own fatness getting rolled like dough, that’s when you’ll know fat is elastic.

How many of you can’t climb Okada because you feel like the tire will burst, the Okada will not move and your side will slowly go down while the driver goes up until your weight under-balances the whole thing and the driver falls off. I have a friend who has this as a phobia.

Let’s talk about image. Wearing clothes can be easy enough before you look in the mirror, that’s when you start to find everything wrong with it. From the fitting to the bust to the waist to hips, you might take it back to the tailor to shape the waist because it will look better and by the time the clothes are back, you can’t fit in them. Reality check: our waists are layered, what did you expect?

I usually look at myself in the mirror each morning to monitor my belly’s activities. Are you getting rounder, flabbier or flatter? And when that slimming tea I’ve been taking for two days whispers ‘flatter’ to me, I see that my stomach has shrunk and I yelp in joy. My 20k slimming tea is working. It will take 5 days for me to realise I was just sucking in my stomach. My 20k wasted. And I’m like…

Slimming teas are stupid something. As a novice, I advise you to maintain. Do not start using those things if you will go to work, school, bank and definitely not market because it will turn your stomach into a craze house. Make sure you will be at home for the 30 rounds to the toilet to come. One will think with all those trips your stomach will touch your back after one bag of tea. Instead, it’s like you have just shited out your intestines but the fat dey gan.

When you feel like you are ill and you google what it means to have itching fingernails, hard feet, rumbling stomach and fat thighs and they tell you that one of the diseases has symptoms such as Weight loss and you are like ‘Well, the disease doesn’t sound so bad’ even though another symptom is dimentia. But then you are stupid.

When you are ill for days and you lose 5kg and everyone is lamenting how the sickness has taken a toll on your fat and you are also nodding with a sober expression but inside you are jumping and screaming in happiness. You don’t mind if the illness will eat up all the excess fat without making you feel sick.

But then you get better, and you start making up for all your lack of eating. And now you eat 2 big indomie and still feel hungry instead of one. You can literally feel the Kg add up till you are fatter than you were. It’s annoying that all that sickness and nothing to show. 

Stop watching reality shows, movies, cartoons, news and TV if you want to maintain your sanity in a world that celebrates and rewards slim. They’ll just remind you of your extra weight every minute because their fine is characterized by being weightless while yours is not but sometimes you forget that. The Kardashians will make you want to get a waist trainer to slim it in but it’s a lie, it wasn’t waist trainers and exercise, it was surgery. Nigerians die during Liposuction, be warned, case study: Former First Lady.

What fits the goose might not fit the gander. My skinny friends and sisters can eat 50 tonnes of fat loaded food and never gain an ounce (witchcraft and wizardry), I dream about eating cucumber, I have gained 23KG. And then once you start eating junk after a diet, forget that thing, you are broken rollercoaster, you must go all the way and then some. Your eyes will become a scale and as every bite of juicy goodness hits your stomach, your KH has upped but you can’t stop. Don’t worry, perks of being a great person.

Even disney princesses are slim. The fattest is Tiana who is black and no more fatter than my thin sister… and she still has flat tummy. They make it feel like we can’t find our Prince Charming. Just because you can’t run and hug our prince charming without toppling him over and suffocating him and we can’t be carried bridal style expect Prince charming is a weight lifter (in that case Prince Charming will want to make you start gyming, it’s a trap), doesn’t mean our happily ever afters will be less beautiful.

I, for one have grown so much fond of my fat. It’s my shock absorber. I’m less shocked at turn of events or actions of people than slimmer people who lack the padding to absorb the shock before it reaches their heart. Plus it takes more effort to break my heart because my heart lies on a pillow within. I think that’s why fat people have better sense of humor and are more sarcastic.

I’m not fat to the point of being unhealthy… Thank God. And I don’t advise anyone to be, if you are please do something about it. I try to keep fit by walking and strolling and that’s why I can cover more distances on foot than many. I’m just an average Jane who, in a sea of thin, hungry looking people looks not chubby, but fat. So I’m not a ‘not-healthy’ advocate. I just want to rock my flabs in peace, and I’m addressing my number one critic- Me.

I have more. Maybe will share it in part 2. 

What are you fat girl problems?

Disclaimer- The writer writes to connect, to be relatable, to be a home for people who might just not have the right avenue to vent. This is in no way depicting my everyday life. I am not bemoaning a condition or anything serious. This is real life issues on a light note and I shouldn’t be explaining my writeups but well…

Submitted by Aisha Hamza

  I arrived at Tara’s apartment a little past eight p.m. She enveloped me in a warm hug and led me to the lavishly set dinning area where candle lights were competing with porcelain dishes . Sitting down, I allowed my eyes roam on the body hugging sequined dress that flattered Tara’s beautiful body. I might just propose tonight.

  Tara excused herself and went into the kitchen. Suddenly something moved from the shadows and surfaced in form of Tiara. She didn’t give me time to recover from my shock as she said “long time no see Ayo”. There was no way my ex from hell was sitting across from me. Too shocked to say a word, beads of perspiration gathered on my forehead.

“Tiara, I see you’ve met Ayo already” It was Tara’s honeyed voice. What in the world was going on? I mused. Tiara flashed Tara a smile. 

    “Ayo, this is my twin sister Tiara”. The universe must be playing tricks on me. “Remember the two girls on the night of the 27th, 2008. Your boys and you. Remember the rape Ayo”?
It was Tiara speaking.
I looked up and saw Tara holding a gun. “It’s payback time Ayo”. Smiling, she pulled the trigger. 

This story was written as an entry to the Flash Fiction contest hence the theme but unfortunately, due to technical issues, it was not received.

Writers Bio

Aisha Hamza

Aisha Hamza is an ardent and growing creative writer who is passionate about stringing words together. She is a poetic soul with the pen of a word artist and hopes that some day,her name would be written in gold amongst a legion of renowned writers.

The relationship between myself and I is a love-hate one. I love myself, I absolutely do but there’s this lady, her name is ‘I’, she resides somewhere- I’m not sure where but I think it’s either my brain, my mind or my body. Sometimes I think ‘I’ is my shadow but then she lingers even after I can see no visible shadow. ‘I’ is more than the physical or tangible, in fact the fact that she’s not tangible makes her more powerful.

‘I’ is annoying, she annoys me to no end because she is too dauntless and daring and adventurous and she lands me in trouble all the time. Are you looking for bad advice cookie? That’s ‘I’. And she nags so much I find it hard to ward her off so to make her keep shut and have her off my case, I just go along with it… bad decision.

I want to lose weight so I try to cut down on food portions and avoid ‘bad’ food and even when I see a super juicy and cheesy chunk of junk, I direct my mind away by myself, but not ‘I’, ‘I’ redirects me. She comes with this super therapeutic voice and goes ‘do you really want to do this to yourself Hafsah? Do you really not want to indulge in this piece of edible luxury? You only live once you know’ and she is sooo good like an expert siren, I usually end up trailing her demands.

And later when I’m drowning in the guilt of it, she sits cross-legged on a plush chair by the side of the grey cube room that’s my mind and smirks to herself. She’s usually writing on a notepad- that’s one thing myself and ‘I’ have in common- and I think she’s scoring herself. By now it will probably read: ‘myself’ 7- 10834893 ‘I’.

‘I’ doesn’t like letting go of people so even when I have a crush on a guy and I want to move on, ‘I’ pushes me to just check his Instagram page one more time for updates, ‘It helps with the healing process’ she says. But she’s lying because I end up stalking him for three more hours….unhealthily.

‘I’ is (am) a hoarder. Like when she tells me I need stuff I don’t need. She’s like ‘Hafsah we are going to need this in the future, keep it’ and the future comes, and it goes and we never need it but we’ve kept it.

And she even hoards memories, some good ones- I must give her credit- but she hoards even the unnecessary, bad ones and that makes her hold grudges like an expert in the field of grudge keeping (there’s a pun lying here somewhere).

For example there’s a family gathering yeah? And I see that cousin and I’m approaching her because I want to catch up and… ‘I’ actually stops me. She says ‘remember when you were 4 years 7 months 1 week old and this cousin flicked a lit up match at you and it burned your arm? You still want to talk to her after THAT?!!! And the memory comes back anew, I feel the pain of the matchstick sizzle on my arm and I make a 360 turn away from the cousin. ‘I’, you are here on banned from interfering with my family life ever again.

When I learn a new song (which is usually some few lines), I don’t like letting ‘I’ know. Because when she gets hold of those lines, God in Heavens! It takes the whole spirit of the Earth to make her stop endlessly chanting them like a breathing mantra. And it annoys me because it’s stuck in my head every moment! But ‘I’ enjoys it. She just loves tormenting me.

You think you have naysayers? Mine resides within! This lady is my worse critic. Everything I do is subject to judgement. I can’t try to look pretty in front of the mirror, ‘I’ will start dissing me. And if so help me God I try to dance or worse sing, ‘I’ contorts her face like she’s smelling poop and grimaces, I’ll have to shamefully stop. That’s why I don’t like taking pictures because ‘I’ calls each of them ugly save one or two. Because of that, I may take 100 pictures and two days later, I’ll delete the lot to one or two. The ones approved by ‘I’. I hate her guts.

I know you are thinking I should let go of her and I’ve thought about it but even as I’m typing this right now, she’s in here laughing her heads off (wickedly) because she knows she’s here to stay. She knows she’ll outlive me, because I know that house, my mind will breathe and exists even after my body gives up the ghost.

And I can’t mute her because in between it all, she drops the most amazing writing and story ideas. She’s my perfectly ever-engaging muse. That’s where our love relationship comes in. I love her for the endless supply of stories she provides. Ever wondered why my stories are usually sadistic? Well….

And she’s my gossip partner, who else will I laugh about my boss with? Most times when you see me laughing to myself, it’s myself and I sharing an inside joke. And she spins the most romantic stories when she’s on her monthly’s. And she can be sweet in a mean way. She comes up plenty horrible ways to get back at people many of which I thankfully forcefully dismiss.

‘I’ is (am) a creative fellow, sometimes mean but usually to me and generally, there’s not a single dull moment between ‘I’ and myself.