Here’s how this cookie is going to crumble. We are moving furniture here a bit. You might or might not have heard of Nancy Cherotich. She’s 29-years old who weighs about 80kgs on the scale, which would have been okay if she was 6’0”, but she’s only 5’4” tall. In medical terms, and in her own words, she is obese. You must be thinking, “OK, big mama, so?” So two weeks ago I didn’t know there was an obese 29-year old out there who writes floating in the websphere when I was busy looking for a writer who could write about health but in a nice chatty way. Then a friend told me, “Have you read Nacy Cherotich’s Facebook posts?” and I said, “Who the hell is Nancy Cherotich?” So I went to her Facebook and read this story about how as a teenager she used to get these ants on her breasts to bite them in the hope that she would get big breasts. (Smh). It was a an amusing story and I was impressed by her consistency and dry humour. So I inboxed her and asked her how her breasts were doing many years later and she said, they were still small and I advised her to forget ants and get a luhya to bite them instead and she said that her ex was a luhya and he didn’t help her breasts. Long story short, she said she was struggling with weight issues and that she was obese but that she was doing something about it and that she would triumph over it. I told her, “Then how about you document this journey?” She said “really?” and now here we are.
Here is what I think. I think we will all die from lifestyle diseases. We drink too much, exercise less and eat horrible food. A whole bunch of us are already overweight with BMI’s that are hitting 29. Some of us are overweight but don’t even know it. Others are overweight but don’t care. Our hearts will one day fail. We will die in our sleep. Diabetes? It’s knocking on our doors. So is Hypertension. But we don’t have to go out like that, we can live better, healthier, which will make us happier people with glowing skin then we can take many selfies and upload them on IG. So “meeting” Cherotich, someone who can, and loves, to write and is struggling with weight was a perfect fit.
I have created a section called Chero’ @ 80 Kgs as you can see up there. It will be her own diary which she will fill in every week, stuff do with weight and the journey towards losing the 80kgs. (Not all of it, obviously). She comes here with her own unique voice and style. She will be on every Thursday after my Tuesday posts. I will keep changing that section to reflect her weight until she drops to acceptable weight, which is, what, 55? 45?
This is not Slimpossible. This is a diary of an obese woman who is ready to laugh at herself but also drop off the weight. I’m sure she will accomplish that and when she does we will send her off to a healthier life and bring another obese person on board who can write. Here is where obese people will be coming to lose weight. No skinny people allowed, skinny people are in blogs taking pictures of themselves in nice clothes. We wish them nothing but good health.
So, without much further ado (hate when people say that), here is Nancy “Kanono” Cherotich.
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My mother tells me that I was born weighing 2kgs. My son weighed 3.5 kgs when I gave birth to him and I thought he was the tiniest thing I had ever seen. I cannot even begin to imagine how tiny I was then. My grandmother decided that my mother was not feeding me well while I was at her womb and she made it her duty to see to it that I grow big.
I have no idea what happened between when I was born to when I joined school – okay I lie, my grandmother happened. I joined school and ‘Nancy kanono’ was the term used to differentiate me from the other Nancys in the school. This continued up to high school but Nancy kanono had no issue with the name because she was raised by a mother who ensured her self esteem was always up there and a grandmother who believed that big is healthy.
I joined University and the move from Kapsabet to Nairobi opened my world to a new word: ‘sexy’. In this city, everything was categorized as either sexy or not sexy and a big girl fell under the not sexy category. I watched in pain as every man my ovaries cried loudly for chase after the small girls. The ovaries combined with my thirst begged me to lose weight as quickly as possible. I began working out and dieting and in two months I reduced from 70 to 55 kgs and boy didn’t that work magic! Men started noticing and hitting on me, my room in campus was always filled with men; cars could stop so that the owners could just say hi and most importantly, I got a boyfriend to the relief of my ovaries. My grandmother however was not happy at all. She lashed at my parents for not giving me enough money to buy food. She even gave me 500 shillings for the rainy day when my parents will decide that we are too poor to afford a meal. I did not bother telling her about my discovery of sexy as she would have asked if the university is turning me into a fool. The lashing helped because my allowance was increased and it was used to paint the city red. The new ‘Nancy si ule mnono’ continued painting the city but not for long. I fell pregnant.
Pregnancy understandably came with gaining weight but I tried my best to get my sexy back which was going well until heartbreak happened. I had to send my son home just to get my act together and also because house helps were driving me crazy. The loneliness drove me to whiskey and stress eating. Whiskey and junk talked and soothed the broken me to the point that any “umenona” comment was met by “I know, I own a mirror” reply and clothes that dared not fit were quickly replaced by bigger ones. I was not going to allow any negativity on my fat and fabulous mantra. What started off as a way of fighting loneliness and heartbreak slowly became a way life. The bartender at my local knew me by name. I used to drink properly and anyone who drinks properly will tell you also need to eat properly. Not the lentils, vegetables, fruits diet, no, you have to eat meat….lots of meat. Tumbukiza, choma and dry fry to be served with chips and kachumbari with lots of pilipili which is believed to help to help burn fat. You also need to constantly top up the cushion by eating the samosas, choma sausages and mshikaki normally sold outside the local. This would be a faithful ritual carried out every weekend and sometimes (read every day) weekdays. Then there is pizza, java’s black forest, coldstone’s ice-cream (I miss it already) and chocolates. Within a short period of time, I was fat and fabulous or so I thought.
Constant asthma attacks were the first sign that all was not well but I did not pay any attention. I tried to exercise once in a while but gave up when the very strong urge for fries and whiskey knocked….until last week.
I woke up to find my left arm and knees swollen and painful. I went to the hospital and I was diagnosed with arthritis. After realizing that I weigh 84 kgs, the doctor told me that I need to lose 16 kgs as soon as possible if I want to live long and for the pain to reduce. This was a wakeup call. Who suffers from arthritis at 29 years? Will my son ever forgive me if I die because of a lifestyle I had the ability to avoid? How can I not twerk just because I fear my knees will break into pieces? I made a decision to live a healthy lifestyle. A lot of things, I previously thought I could die without, have been stricken off my diet and I try to exercise every day.
It has not been easy. I keep hearing whiskey calling out my name begging me to taste it for the last time…..calling me unfair, trying to remind me the fun we had together, swearing it will never allow my waist to increase again. Seduction by junk food is the worst! it keeps telling me that one day with it will not make any difference. Every time I serve food, I fill my plate with lots of food then the healthy part of my brain shouts ‘portion control!’ and I painfully reduce the same. I have stayed strong. My first moment of joy came on Friday when the doctor said I had lost 3 kgs. I know I have a long way to go but I have started the journey and the determination is getting stronger. The fact that I have friends who talk to me every day to ensure that I do not fall off the wagon and others who call me just to see if I have changed my mind so that we can go celebrate over a bottle of whiskey and nyama choma, increases my resolve. I must get healthy. I must get the ovaries busy again. Whiskey might call, fudge cake might call, coldstone might call and friends might call but the only call I intend to listen to is the healthy call. The journey continues….to week two.