Post-Raya Result (Bloody WP)

A strip of red carpet is laid out to welcome our VIP, author of this blog, Mr. Fata’un Hana’, with thanks for having graced this humble domain with your opening speech…

Yeah, gone is Ramadhan, where in this new modern era, and everybody is way so modernized, only a small fraction of God’s creatures like us manage to reap the rewards and glory of the holy month. I think last year’s Ramadhan was 30-day fully-furnished with lots of prayers and holy Quran reciting before dawn, besides my unremitting demands of Him blessing me with a son. I was fasting and didn’t miss a day despite being 7 months’ 72kg-pregnant with a second child. Trust me, I was way heavier when I was carrying my first child, my don’t-mind-not-having-mama-around daughter.

This year’s Ramadhan sees zero of me disbursing my after-Isya’ to Tarawikh - most of it with me maintaining my attachment to the kitchen doing the dishes, getting the kids’ Botanic Strawberry nursery basket prepared for the next day, or being slumped behind the scalded ironing board getting the husband’s work clothes nicely pressed, or became wholly subject to my daughter’s demands.

Excuses? Probably. I’d say those are my responsibilities. Not? I do find it a helpless struggle to uphold that household gravitation exerts upon my back, day in, day out. If only I had a maid. Sigh. Had one last Ramadhan but we fired her for incompetence. Can’t tolerate maids that talk back when they’re kindly, gently asked to carry out specific tasks, even simple ones… I’m not a bad person, I just expect some kind of equal favors in return when I do good onto others… not to mention I pay them to!

This year I investigated every female descendant of Adam and Eve’s desire to be deflated-thin within the framework of presumed influence - on myself.

Down the almost-3-decades of my insignificant life, the desire to starve and beat myself up until I’m as thin as Richie engulfs me ever more overwhelmingly, only recently. 2 years ago, I used to fret over not being able to slip my ballooned butt into my premarital jeans (yeah I’ve been married and blessed with 2 bubbly kids). The plain thinking of having the body shrinks after a 44-day confinement period proves me wrong that I needed to work excruciatingly harder just to do that. After two kids, the ‘berbengkung’ or ‘bertungku’ alone failed twice to roll-pin me back into my premarital shape.

I almost gave up. How come other women manage to slim back into shape; the shape they were in before marriage? Is it because I don’t breastfeed my babies long enough so they could suck all my fats out? Hey, it’s a proven theory. I envy Maya, a friend of mine who, after 2 kids, still maintains a bodylicious barbie-doll figure. She exclusive-breastfeeds her kids.

It cost me no lunch, no rice, small amount of food on the plate so that I won’t glutton it all up in one meal, lots of water, OSIM uZap every now and then, tummy-tuck exercise recommended by Fata’un Hana’, and the constant ‘hubby, do you think I’ve lost weight/do I look thinner now?’ question. I figure I must’ve bored him with that question; and other plus-size people who’ve heard it must’ve sensed that I daringly, horizontally-challenged them. Sorry folks, I didn’t mean to. Just can’t help being statistically included and stereotypically labeled as one of those women who gain weight after child birth and never lose a pound! Let’s bust the myth that it all ain’t true! I’m not boo-ing people whose weight overshoots the scale. I’m just concerned about my own weight-watch. Being able to maintain somewhat the same figure even after 4-5 child births would personally mean a great accomplishment to me.

Success was dawning when 3 weeks ago, I managed to strut around in my 7-year old size 25 Levi’s. It was put away since I last donned it when the daughter was 7 months old. She’s now 37 months old, and has a 9-month-old brother. Coolness? Sure is. It just takes some effort and determination. I probably was overdoing it when I turned down colleagues’ lunch invitations and enforced the strictly-no-dinner-after 8pm rule. But hey, those old shirts, skirts, pants are no longer aliens in the wardrobe now! The hunger pangs finally pay off! What a fruitful determination! But I’ve to admit that having to sacrifice losing nutrients to your body isn’t something to be really proud of.

A bosom buddy, Daniel is buzzing me online now, says he sees our photos from Star Ipoh school days, and frets how he was 10 times thinner back then. See, even the male species regret not keeping in shape after getting married!

Please pardon my vanity. But isn’t it every woman’s desire to be healthy and in perfect shape, and make their other half pleased with the way they look, at least not plywood-board thin?