No… Just to be clear, I wasn’t starting out in an overweight fetish industry. Nor was I trying to seduce a potential suitor. I am not interested in men for the foreseeable future and I’m not in the right country for people to appreciate a good curvy, round, plumpy woman. Unfortunately, I took photos of myself in my underwear because some loser decided that you have to possess “before” images in order for you to commit to a healthy fitness lifestyle. A lifestyle that you’ve been dreading to start for the last 4 weeks. Boy, I sure would like to meet the moron who came up with this idea.
Taking photos has become like second nature to us all. We take so many photos that they have all turned in to one big ball of blurry colours. It’s obviously easier nowadays due to this phenomenon of what they call the smartphone. I sometimes want to smash mine, which for me, is like an annoying family member you can’t get rid of. A few words come to mind in association with my phone. Glued, attached, fastened, just to name a few. One time I forgot ‘my precious’ at home and not only was I paranoid, nervous, incomplete, but I also got an overwhelming sense of uncertainty that, even though I am a human being who can think on my own without the aid of any electronic devices, has now suddenly been rendered useless. A defective blubbering moron; all because in my head I thought I lost contact with the outside world and most importantly that I missed out on important calls and texts. Here’s the thing. Hardly no one ever calls me because I’m not so important. It would seem I’m only a queen within my own mind and nowhere else. Yet here I was, phoneless and lifeless, the world as I knew it was caving in all around me. Now, do you know how many people got in contact with me for the whole 11 hours I was away from my phone? One! Yes, one person. And do you know who that person was? My mom. Need I say more.