Taking my own advice

I have always been that annoying person who dishes out advice on weight. I never wonder if people want to hear it: I just always felt the need to ‘help’.
Well lately, I have put on a bit of weight. In the past three months, I have been expanding from a size 6 to a size 8 (the horror!)
New to most people, those may not be a big deal but in my family, this is akin to sinning. My siblings vary from sizes 6 to 8, including the married one with kids. The exception (and weight disgrace) is just past 8 and lives with the weight of our mockery. Sometimes I even feel bad for her. Just sometimes!
Well to get me back on track, I have started exercising not for fun but to lose weight. My people, I never knew this thing was hard!
I do sit ups in the morning, ride the bicycle at work, 30mins walk in the evening, and swim 3km during the weekends. I have done this routine religiously for A WHOLE week and nothing has changed!
This is where taking my advice comes in: my favourite phrase was ‘you didn’t put on weight in a week, don’t expect to lose it on a week’. As simple as that always sounded, new O have to actually live with it. The disappointment of seeing the same number on the scale, the aches after sit ups, the snide looks from mu evil siblings, and humility.
Its quite easy to give advice, its another thing to take that advice…

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