Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Weighing in at 60




I’m by no stretch of anyone’s imagination a Poppy Ntshongoana where body build is involved. When it comes to being happy with ones body however, I’m chuffed. Stoked nogal!

Once upon what seems like always, I was a weight-loss junkie. I bought into all sorts of products that sold me the skinny dream. No name concoctions from unsavoury pharmacists; herbal what not’s & teas. Cipla Trim tablets that had me buzzing sleeplessly for months… till I learnt that guzzling Southern Comfort as though it were a 2l coke, could counter act the sleeplessness effect of the now banned appetite suppressant.

My hazardous lifestyle reached the beginning of it’s end when one day I didn’t show up for work & no one could account for me. Despite my then frequent bunking antics, something about my absence was amiss. Thank heavens my colleagues gave enough of a damn to come around to my house & check.

What they found was a semi-conscious me, who’d bothered to unlock the door somewhere inbetween taking a shower; draping myself in a towel & blacking out. I was promptly rushed to a doctor who profusely warned me about my beloved pills.
Did I stop taking them?
No.
I was convinced that adopting a more sporadic approach to my dosage was a lesser thus safer dose than religiously twice a day.
Was I even losing any weight to begin with?
Nope, but the pill popping prevailed. 


BEFORE




Till one day I miraculously discovered starving.

I’d forgotten to eat & no appetite came round knocking on my stomach insisting I feed myself. 3 food free days later, I was on cloud 9 beaming with pride at the skinny future that lay ahead.

Yet again this fantasy “quick fix” was shattered by loving friends who saw to it that I was always in the company of someone & anyone. Turns out that I don’t know how not to eat, when surrounded by people who are eating. What a pity & life saver all at the same time.

I hadn’t been at the starving thing long enough for any weight to shed, but at least I learnt the truth about exactly how tiny my stomach is. What with my eating habits still being a very touchy topic, I make a kick ass poster child for health (Liver & lungs aside). There’s truthfully no crime in eating 1 meal a day; just don’t blame it on me if shit hits the fan… Better yet, stick to what works for you!

What works for me is Living Life!
Uninhibitedly dancing the night away; Passionate weekends of endless (protected) sex; Long purposeful walks to destinations that are truly too short to be driven to. Add a splash of play into that mix, et voila!
That’s the wholesome; heartfelt & failproof work out regime that works for me.

So what if my trunk won’t ever fit into size 28 jeans? I’m 10 K’s lighter & LOVING IT!


                                                                                                                          AFTER
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Monday, July 23, 2012

"I dare you!"


I don’t know about you, but when restlessness strikes I tend to blab a lot about almost anything, just for the sake of filling the silence in my mind. Such was the case once upon the 18th of July 2012.

“Maybe I should give out free hugs”, I said in the presence of friends who I’d figured weren’t listening. “A lot of faces here are in need of hugs”, I continued presumably to myself, as I paced between the benches outside the Fish & chip shop. These sentiments were spurred by the disappointment that was gnawing away at me for not having risen to the occasion that was Nelson Mandela day.

My “You’re such a bad good doer” pity party was promptly shattered when I heard,“I dare you!” Three words that too often get the better of me.

In the split second that – my not so darling friend- Zakithi spoke those words, my sensibilities fumbled about in search of the perfect strategy on how to chicken out with my dignity in tact. Alas, there’s no room for dignity where cowardice is involved, so pride got the better of me for the better.

I did it!
I embarked on mission “Hugathon” & gave of myself in a way as simple as flashing a smile.

The afternoon played out so serendipitously, to the extent that despite having moved between a handful of locations, fate saw to it that I had made that connection with 67 complete strangers in 67 minutes.

Parking attendants; Cab drivers; Mothers; cleaners; delivery men; taxi drivers; passengers & then some. The list may not be endless, but each of those individual fibres in time… Priceless!

In my 28 short years of life, I’ve had too few experiences that were so quintessentially South African. Exhausting & draining, but infinitely rewarding.
I’m satisfied for days & gloating for a lifetime. Itching with addicted excitement at the next time my contagious smile will come out to play in the name of a random act of kindness.
(click here to view complete album. Pictures by Zakithi Motha)

Thank You strangers! You made my day, by letting me be a part of yours.

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Friday, June 8, 2012

3 Polokwane Boys; Benji & I


Once Upon a FABULOUS yesterday, my Facebook status read like so: 



"I truly hate the idea that there's someone out there who can sleep knowing without a doubt in their mind, that they are a major contributor to my happiness... I've made that mistake before & it's not healthy!"
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