#oppositepoles

Here I am feeling terribly unfit (read fat), and there is my long-time friend Sarah, (not real name) afraid, because she is rapidly losing weight.

A few years ago, three to be exact, I wore spaghetti tops, shorts and polo-necked shirts with ease. I didn't know it then, but I felt fit as a fiddle, not even daunted by the pain in my right knee that came after I suffered a fall ((in the middle of town!). I could bend and touch my toes, squats were a walk in the park, and I had no need for stomach crunches.

I’d had a fat boyfriend who snored like a freight train, even when he dozed off during the day. His efforts at exercise were half-hearted, and he loved sitting in the sofa munching his way through greasy takeaway (chips and sausages), Rolex (the stand was right outside his gate), cereal with lots of milk, and draining bottles of Coca-Cola and cans of Bell beer. The will to exercise was overthrown by an even greedier will to watch movies and play video games and use the car (it got so bad that he would call a special driver) to go everywhere, even to the village shop. He usually huffed and puffed and his hands were sweaty. I loved him anyway, I didn't see that.

The job I do limits my exercise. I also found that moving to something new made me comfort eat all the time. With time, I realized that I was, as the saying goes, ‘piling on the pounds’. My once flat tummy developed a pouch, my waist became many more inches thicker, my bust grew bigger, and I felt terribly unfit and heavy. My morning walk to work was, and still is, my exercise for the day. But when I told the doctor that, he said it wasn't enough, and that I was overweight. At 59 kilograms. 9 stones. 132 pounds heavy.

To be honest, exercise is not that easy. In my head, I want to join a gym. I do work out in the evening at about 10pm, but I’m so tired by that time, that I’ll admit, its a lukewarm attempt. I feel terribly unfit, and slower. Someone told me its an age thing. Yeah, right!

Now, back to my dear friend. She sent me a text on Tuesday, asking me to “get her drugs that can make her fat again because she is losing weight rapidly.’ This is the thing. She’s on ARVs right now, but not prescribed by a doctor. Somebody is smuggling the drugs out of the hospital for her. Which means that she is swallowing a cocktail she knows nothing about. She has no idea if it is helping her body fight the disease, if it is building her immunity, if it is affecting her liver, or whatever else. But she wants another drug to help her put the weight back on. Which could be potentially dangerous, in the short, or long run.

Well, we talked on the phone and I dispensed some advice. I really think she should see a doctor, and I think she should eat healthy, and it is not about the weight, but about keeping healthy.

Two opposite poles- one looking to shed, another looking to add.