I love meeting family and friends in Indonesia after almost a year apart. Most of them greeted me with great big hugs, kisses and a "Wow, you've gained weight!" first reaction.
I know I've gained weight. As a matter of fact, my scale in Houston showed me 2 months ago that I gained 5 kilos. The thing is, I've been looking at myself every single day in front of the mirror and always manage to find that my body still looks pretty much the same, just a tad curvier. I have no objection in getting some curves on this once-too-skinny body.
Nonetheless, I have a tendency to not really think about what others say about my appearance, especially when it comes to my weight. At first I would be like, "Am I that fat?", because it's just how those kinds of comments make you feel and then I would be like, "Na-ah, not that fat.". Or, "That can't be true. This scale has got to be broken.", because we all know that scales get broken easily (especially if an elephant stepped on it like it does on daily basis at my home - in other words, my scale has never been wrong).
I can deny people and scales all I want, but there is one thing that does not lie about my weight and it is my jeans size. Just now I went upstairs and took out 3 pair of jeans. All were part of my daily wardrobe choice a year ago. And now, all 3 are no longer good for these kinds of activities when worn:
Safe to say that I will no longer be wearing those jeans. Well, I need to move on eventually and I think I am ready to do so. I have to say that despite the shock, I actually feel pretty good about the way I look now. After all, why do we perceive the word fat as something awful? Celebrate, ladies! Don't get sad.