summers were all the same before i turned twelve. twiglike, my sister & i we were sent to stay in the province a.k.a. the fat farm. a magical place where tablespoons of cod liver & poached eggs were forced into our young mouths each morning. year after year, my parents hoped for few more pounds while we slept, ate & played for a month. those experiments didn't yield the much hoped for results. our bodies weren't destined to be adorably chunky, the kind that strangers in the streets would attempt to pinch & fawn over. the fact that i came first was probably the reason why everyone in the family fussed over me.
but what a darling i was when i was 8 months old! i have this picture of myself being carried by my lola- queen of the fat farm. in her arms she held a milky ball of soft baby fat, with big round eyes framed by black curly hair. i know, that doesn't sound like me at all.
one of the photos that came after showed a skinny three-year old girl with a ridiculously big stomach bulging out of a red bikini. believe me when i say the image is too comical for words. but i was one confident kid. hands on my waist & a big gumamela in my hair, i struck a pose. with one flash, that moment was immortalized, forever etched in my family's minds and the generation that soon followed.
the next summer ladies & gentlemen, my parents bought me a yellow one-piece bathing suit.
i was too young to understand the implications of that noble action.
oh to be a kid again.
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