I have spent the better part of this week praying. I am not a very patient person so the agony of waiting to know if my leg is now okay or if I would need to go for a second surgery is beyond words. My doctor did not make it easier for me either; he is the kind who never changes his expression when giving you news. I think it is a doctor’s thing. He will tell me that he is totally happy with the progress with no trace of happiness on his face, or he will explain me how he will have to operate on my right leg to remove something from there in order to fix my left leg the same way he would give you directions; no holding of my hand to tell me it will be okay or such deep stuff. The only time he cracked a joke was when he told me that he had a feeling that I was not wearing my knee braces religiously because I feared it would reduce the chances of me being hit on and that he thought I loved attention because I was always in very colorful dresses. I laughed more than usual until he went back to his old self by saying, “You still need to lose more weigh by the way but you are okay, no more surgery needed, just take care of that knee.”
Getting to hear that got me to realize how tense I was. Not only did the first procedure slow down my weight loss journey but there was pain involved. Friends and relatives had to stop some of their plans to take care of me and I spent sleepless nights wondering how long my employer is going to understand my absenteeism from work and God knows, the journey between being unwell and getting better involves a lot of money. I will be very sincere. I spent the whole week waiting; I did not look at my plate to fold my fist but I just ate. I missed my slim therapy sessions, I let my nails chip and prayed as I waited. Very bad attitude, I know.
During the waiting period, I noticed something interesting that of course I didn’t think much about it until after receiving the news. My son is around and he has offered the distraction I need by politely calling me fat or just making me laugh my heart out. On Sunday he requested to be taken to play at one of the malls. I thought this would be a perfect time for me to indulge in junk without feeling guilty. It is only a mad man who would expect me to eat managu and terere when hanging out with my son. Ice cream, chips and chicken was ordered for him and his supporters and we went to find somewhere to sit. We sat in a corner next to a mother and his son who were enjoying their meal. At first I wondered why she sneered at our food as we sat down until I noticed that she and the son had absolutely no junk on their plate. Their food looked Chinese with lots of vegetables and they really seemed to enjoy their meal and conversation. I knew guilt was going to torture me as I ate but I put on a brave face. Truth be told, this was the first time to notice a healthy meal on the table on a Sunday.
As I was wallowing in self-pity and questioning my skills as a mother, another set of mother and son came and sat to an empty table next to us. I thanked God when I noticed that they were also going to partake in junk food. I needed to eat without any feeling of guilt. The no junk on my table mother shook her head and focused on her son. Nothing unusual there, it was a Sunday probably the one time you get to spoil your kid; this was until the kid said that he was not full and the mother quickly got out a whole packet of muffins for the kid to enjoy with juice. I could not hide my shock as I watched the kid finish all the six muffins all by himself in a very short span. I am not one to judge anyone’s parenting skill but truth be told, at my own age and size I cannot consume such an amount of food and it beat me how the kid hacked it.
It reminded me back when I was young and my dad always brought my siblings and I sweets from work. In the evening, when we saw him approach, we would run to him look for sweets in all his pockets, take them and run away. Tantrums would be caused if sweets were not found. I pulled such a stunt one day in front of a very important visitor whom I cannot recall and my mum decided to put a stop to the nonsense. I was whipped and told from that day to never demand for anything. In my mother’s own words, “You shall eat what my kitchen and pocket provides until the time you will afford your own.” I was angry and planned to become a lawyer and sue her later when I grew up but I learned to take what her kitchen provided with no questions. Once in a while we would be taken out to eat chips and sausage which I grew up knowing it was only available at one hotel in Kapsabet and was only conveniently prepared when my father could afford it. We lived for those days and were always at our best behavior lest our mother decided to ask the hotel owners to stop preparing chips for us. I am one of the people who got heartbroken on realizing that chips is made from potatoes. It is when I got a kid and experiencing the same kind of behavior of demanding for sweets from him that my mother gave me a few tips on being Hitler.
In her words “You need to shape your kid while they are still young. They will appreciate whatever it is you bring at the table because at the end of the day all they need is your attention and time. Don’t deny them the fine things in life if you can afford it but let it not be at the expense of their health and discipline. Let them know all sides of life and that nothing comes easy. Most importantly you have to set the example. You cannot say no to sweets yet you are always eating it.” Through her wisdom, I saw my son changing from asking for sweets to asking for fruits and finally to having no expectation but appreciating the little he gets. It is true we are our kid’s teachers. My son didn’t know about pizza until the day he saw me eating it and only gets to eat it when I buy it for him. It is probably the reason why the lady I met at the table decided to eat a healthy meal with the son. If not for any other reason, I choose to try and always eat healthy so that I set an example for my son.
I have been given a clean bill of health although I have been told it will take six months before I can seriously start working out. In the meantime, we need a restaurant that strictly serves healthy meals and drinks for the sake of us with willing bodies but weak spirits.