Welcoming back fat

What am I up to in South Africa? Uhm, well we first have to settle in, and thereafter I might broaden my horizons by studying further. Unfortunately it’s quite complicated getting a work permit. But I would still like to do something meaningful. No, of course I will avoid the “temptation” of resorting to settling for the expat lifestyle.

So, here I find myself eight months later, sitting around a table accompanied by other middle-aged women, enjoying a breakfast while being regaled by a fitness “guru”.

Our first speaker is a professional bra fitter.

Since I have some leisure time on my hands, I feel that studying to be a professional in something could be a worthwhile endeavour. But bra fitting never crossed my mind. I just never have, nor ever had to suppress the intention to ascertain a woman’s bra size but fondling her breasts.

However, there may be a world of difference between professional and apprentice bra fitters. The latter would never pass up an opportunity to master his skill, with a catastrophic Tom and Jerry like chaos as a result.

It’s good that this profession exists. And, satisfied with my own conclusion, I put another biscuit in my mouth, while our expert starts a discussion on back-fat.

My own back-fat never concerned me, but when I go to the toilet I do check, if and if so, how many rolls of back-fat I drag along. You just have to do those things. The same occurs when you read that the distance between your eyebrow and hairline is four fingers wide. I immediately check to ensure that I am normal. What if mine is only three fingers wide? Must be either my fringe leading to a skewed measurement, or I resemble a Neanderthal after all.

Meanwhile our fitness guru is telling us the true life tales of fat celebrities who have gone on to shed buckets full of fat and now represent the epitome of lithe, lean and sexy. What follows is an exhaustive list of do’s and dont’s.

The guru concludes practically every sentence with: Okay?

And then we all nod eagerly. 

Of course we all want that perfect body. And yes, to achieve that we will skate across the living room, using two paper plates. In hotels we will run up and down the stairs and jog through the lobby.

We promptly decide that things must change!

Starting tomorrow.

For now we reach out for another piece of cake and sip delicately on our cappuccino, trying to ignore the fact that we just have been taught how bad coffee, milk, sugar and saturated fats are. And during the break we draw everyone’s attention to how wasteful it would be to throw away cake.

To conclude the morning’s discussion, we are addressed by a woman who is the reincarnation of Michael Jackson. We soon see through her though as she never once “Moonwalks” or sings “Thriller”.

Than again, just how seriously would we take Michael Jackson, when he would tell us about creams that are good for your face.