The other day I was driving in my car, and became painfully aware of my stomach. How much of it there was. How I couldn’t feel anything else, couldn’t think of anything else, nothing else mattered other than the fact that my stomach was there. When I didn’t want it to be there.
I began to obsess, my breathing became fast and shallow, I wanted to be anybody but who I was right at that moment. I just wanted to be sane.
But then I recalled the promise I had made to myself last week, to focus on what is important in life. And an extra kilo or two is not one of those important things.
As I was focusing on the positives, I remembered what it was like being in the car 6 years ago. When the feeling of the seatbelt against my hips and ribs was painful. Very very painful. When the seatbelt left me covered in bruises, and I dreaded doing it up because it felt like it was going to break me in half. Break every single bone in my body.
My breathing went back to normal. I started to smile. And thought ‘thank god for my curves’.
Note: I hid this down here so that people are less likely to read it..mainly because I come across like a big bucket-full of crazy... *sigh
Comments
All those years ago, were you okay? I mean, really okay? I would hate to think that you weren't. I realise that's a really odd way of phrasing such a question, too, for which I apologise.
Thumbs up to curvy girls.