Can women be cheerful and chunky too?!

The other night my best friend and I were chatting about our eternal struggle with weight. Somewhere between 24 and 27 years old my body stopped letting me binge eat junk food and guzzle down litres of beer without it appearing in the most unflattering way.. and in the most unflattering places.

While we were chatting she said something interesting to me. Her husband in exasperation had asked her "Why are you so concerned about it? We're married, there's no one left to impress!" I thought the sentiment deserved some contemplation. See, on the one hand he is right. Why are we as women so concerned about how we look, fretting and moaning over each pound gained? Why does it matter quite so much to us? This made me wonder, "Why can't women be cheerful and chunky too?"

My sister who was with us said something even more interesting to my friend. She said, "honey, don't become one of those women that let's themselves go after marriage." (A joke I'm sure). But it struck me that this is yet another facet of women's perception of weight that deserves looking into. Are we to assume that the woman who gets fat after marriage has somehow let herself (and possibly her husband and children) down? And that a woman who doesn't allow herself to fall into this trap is worthy of respect and praise?

Yes and no. On the one hand society celebrates the fit and strong, and looks down on the weak and unfit. And as evolved as the human race has become, this primitive, instinctual analysis of our 'herd' has not changed.

But on the other hand does the woman who stays fit after marriage somehow symbolise happiness and self-worth? Is it really so black and white? From personal experience I can say that I have never been happier than I am in my marriage. And if I have put on weight in recent years it's only because I'm having such a darned good time. Having lived predominantly with only women earlier it was easy to watch my weight (women watch other women's diets so closely I'm surprised we eat anything at all!), and moving in with my foodie husband was liberating.

But we as a society never look deeply enough into why women maintain the weight they do. If a woman is overweight does it necessarily mean that she is careless, sloppy and doesn't have the self esteem to look after herself? Or could it mean that she is filled with hope, happpiness, joie de vivre and a few kilos don't matter to her in the grand scheme of things?

If a woman is fit, toned and sporting a size zero dress does that mean that she's got it made? Does it mean she's successful, and happy, at peace with her body and life? Or could she also be struggling to stay on top of this rat race that's fashion and lifestyle in the 21st century, counting calories and never truly letting her hair down?

Or could it be that for many women, fat, medium or thin, that's just their body? What an incredible idea!

At the end of this diatribe you should know that I'm going on a diet, because I 'don't want to let myself go'. And when I squeeze into dresses currently too tight for me I'm sure I'll be happy, but the part I want to remember at that time is that I am already happy. This is just some frosting on the cake.

Growing pains? Not so much

In 2011, I withdrew from the world of blogging, imagining (incorrectly) that I was 'getting too old for it'. I berated myself for being too much of an open book, and having such an external locus of identity that I needed to share my every waking thought and emotion with the world at large.

I think perhaps there was some truth to it. I've always had to be the one with the best story, which invariably leads to me sharing just a little too much information.. to the discomfort of both me and my audience sometimes. But in the past three years several things have happened.

1. I went away to college and got my post graduate degree in journalism
2. I met a wonderful man and got married
3. We adopted two ridiculously cute cats
4. I resumed work and I'm employed as a content writer with a local NGO
5. I learned how to be happy (happier) with myself, and by myself

It occurred to me that I believed that I was leading this charmed existence of parties, alcohol and a seemingly unlimited supply of money (seriously how did I manage?!), and it was loads of fun. But I had no idea who I was beyond the glossy exterior, and because I didn't know any better I mirrored myself based on the world's expectations of me.

I tried to be the world's best daughter to my mother, the Carrie-est Bradshaw of them all to my girl friends, and the local femme fatale to the boys. But somewhere along the way I started to snap out of my Sweet Valley High perception of life.

I started to see the world around me as it really is. When it rains the world looks slushy and sloppy, and not like the sexy dance scene in Step Up 2, when couples fight it can get ugly and angry, not steamy and delicious like a Mills & Boons novel. Sometimes we'll both be too angry with each other to apologize first, all of our friends and family will not stick by us through thick and thin, jobs sometimes suck and money can start becoming a problem. Such a despairing point of view to adopt isn't it? Not really. I found that when I emerged from my candy-floss view of life, and got over resenting growing up, I was quite enjoying it.

Yes I pay taxes, do grocery shopping, and our cats stop us from just taking off into the horizon on a whim, but it's still great, because it's real. Oh I do still have evenings where I drink too much, wake up with a hangover and swear I need to grow up a little more, but the biggest thing I've learned is that life is not all black and white the way i used to think it was. I am neither teenager nor adult. I'm neither childish nor mature. Happy or unhappy. Smart or stupid. I am all of these things for some time, at different points of time, and it's been embracing this concept that has made me realise that whatever else i am, for the most part I am content.