There’s nothing like getting a call from the aunt, telling me I’ve gained weight –just in case I missed that detail in all the mirrors and reflective surfaces I pass by every day– to motivate me to take a jog. I’m hoping it would also motivate me to choose healthier meals and reduce food portions.
They’re concerned, the second sister explained. They saw a recent photo uploaded by a friend on Facebook and was surprised to see a puffed up version of me 😐 I can’t blame them though. The weighing scale supports their observation.
I should be getting used to the weight gain comments by now. I’ve been getting these comment since… ever since I can remember (?). The mother and the aunt are teaming up on this. Great. Just great.
Then again, I’ve always needed some push. And although it feels more like a shove, I’ll take what I can. And while my first response was really irritation, I know that all these comments are made out of the family’s concern for my health.
I can only wish that they also take note on the non-weight related progress that I’ve managed with my post-operation recovery efforts. Then again, I know the family enough to not expect that and that does not, in any way, make me love them any less.
More importantly, I do remember asking Him for some source of motivation.