Accepting Reality

And it's the honest, brutal truth.

Yet, this calls for a toast, I should say. See, I still have these clothes from the years where I had the bumble bee waist, a washboard tummy. All nicely folded in a box under my bed. Right underneath me. Never far from me after all these years.

Every single year when there is a change of season, I would put something in, take something out accordingly, but these clothings will remain at the bottom. Every year I kept telling myself, I will lose weight and regain my shape of those glorious years. And every year, I kept hanging onto those clothes.

Today, I took them all out and put them in a large bin liner, ready to be thrown into one of those donation bins. I have finally accepted the fact that no matter how slim I try to get, it will NEVER be that size. Body shapes change over the years, what more with pregnancies battering our bodies. Plus, I am not that young ciku, or someone like Posh Beck who drinks only Pu-Erh and eats only small handful of shrimps.

I have accepted the fact that although I can't have my dream figure back, I look alright for my age.

Here's a toast to an old chook who is letting go of the past and loving her figure today. (But who doesn't mind a little lipo if she ever strikes the Tatts)