“You should get rid of the baby you are carrying Sim!” a friend recently teased me. According to this chap, I’ve got a hint of a baby pot (excuse the pun!) in the midsection.
We laughed and I took the jibe gracefully, because he was right. Not too long ago, I was as thin as a beanstalk and could easily pass for a gangly youth heading off to a matric dance.
“You should get rid of the baby you are carrying Sim!” a friend recently teased me. According to this chap, I’ve got a hint of a baby pot (excuse the pun!) in the midsection.
We laughed and I took the jibe gracefully, because he was right. Not too long ago, I was as thin as a beanstalk and could easily pass for a gangly youth heading off to a matric dance.
Fast forward to May 2010 and I am considerably rounder and, in African lore, a little more prosperous looking. But weight does not really bother me.
I much prefer to be healthy. Most of us do. ‘Most’ being the operative word, of course. Because, in modern SA, thin is in; thin is chic; thin is healthy; thin is glamorous; thin is it.
This is of course unfair to those (perhaps the majority of mankind?) not endowed with a turbo-charged metabolism. However, being thin used to be an obsession almost exclusive to white women.
Yes, white women! Sue me. Sure, eating disorders like anorexia and bulimia exist and take their toll on millions around the world.
But there is also this irrational obsession with size zero which has destroyed the collective self-esteem of women.
Today, young South African women starve themselves and earnestly hit the treadmills in a war of attrition against weight.
Students at Rhodes even have a name for the annoyance: the first-year spread. According to my sources, when first year students first enrol at Rhodes, their previously active lives (sports, physical education, etc.) are replaced by binge-drinking, rich food in halls of residence, and sedentary lifestyles that involve driving 50 metres from bed to class.
No wonder they pack on the kilos! Lately, so I am told, even men have joined the fray. Apparently, even men can and do suffer from anorexia and bulimia.
And why shouldn’t they? See, men are typically more utilitarian in body image matters. They’re aware that well-toned lads like David Beckham and Cristiano Ronaldo are raking in the cash.
And boy are they envious! Precious few fancy the pin-up model look. They all just want to get paid! I would therefore like to think that male anorexics are just crying out for a better paying job.
Or winning the Lotto! Gags aside, excess weight is not good for the heart, the pancreas, for love life, and for childbirth, among others.
According to a book I’ve recently acquired: How Not To Get Fat (Ian Marber, Quadrille Publishing, 2009) your best defence against weight gain is not to fight.
Just don’t pack on the kilos in the first place. The book has the usual platitudes dissing similar books, before talking up about protein, carbs, and fat.
It’s your typical selfhelp book-most useful on a campsite bonfire. But I eventually found something useful in Marber’s manual: cut down on processed sugar.
Big chance for me of course; afflicted as I am with the proverbial sweet tooth. Thankfully, I know the score –if you’ve ticked off all life’s more important milestones, just think of weight gain as part of the ageing process. In other words, just grin and bear it.
•Sim now wears his baby pot with the appropriate level of embarrassment.
