My people, hello.
I've been quiet due to laptop issues, and what I guess was writer's block. January is just tough eh? And what is with this Nairobi heat? And dust, everywhere? Sigh. We are where we are, rejoice in all things.
So. You've heard it said; you felt it yourself. It's all fun and games until the jeans don't fit anymore. The memory Facebook sent me yesterday was a picture from three years ago. It was five months after I had given birth to our son, and I was holding up a skipping rope, starting the journey back to my pre-pregnancy weight. If you've been keeping up with the posts, you know my efforts have been curtailed by various blindsides. I found it ironic that I logged onto Facebook and saw the picture right after my workout yesterday. I'm in the exact same situation again, working to shed the baby weight after a second delivery. 
I got serious about this in October last year, got 10kg off by New Years. The wheels came off in December though. I think we had four or five barbeques at our house in that one month. Then there was the family Christmas party. There was our wedding anniversary holiday. There was my husband's birthday cake. And then my mom's birthday cake. Let's not forget the takeout!

 I was twelve when it was painfully brought to my attention that people had different bodies. Well, maybe much earlier. My mother told me a lot that I was a poor feeder as a toddler. I was stick thin; the only thing I would eat was sausages. Eventually a doctor told her, "Just give the child what she wants, until she decides to one day eat regular food." I subsisted on sausages and hot dogs a lot longer than my mother will probably admit (LOL, hi mum!).