What if?

Owo mi. (My person), it’s 1:30am in Uyo, (yes oh, I’m still in Uyo) and I’m wondering—just like you probably are, if you’re reading this entry now— why I cannot sleep.

I have some plausible reasons, and one of them will be having a late dinner, eba (garri) and soup, sponsored by inordinate food lust.

The same eba that has caused this 2-month old pregnancy, aka belly fat, staring at me as I type.

The same eba that I intended to combat with my daily workout, but fear…

Yes, this is the crux of this entry; my fear. Now, hold this thought, lemme take you somewhere else.

Some three months ago I noticed an accumulation of belly fat, and being a slim human, who is neither busty, hip-sy or butt-sy, belly fat makes me amoebic, but a cute amoeba, because I am Geejay, yunno, and GJ is always cute, but away from this vanity.

I decided, then, to begin workouts, so I downloaded an app I loved, got started and I saw tremendous results. Life’s good nau, we’re cruising, abs are already showing, until my monthly flow came with some irregularities and I had to visit the doctor, do a few tests and all.

I knew I had stop the exercises if I hoped to get well anytime soon, so i did. The exercises were strenous and though my body seemed to love it, my reproductive system was bleeding.

So, here I am, some months later, torn between resuming less-strenuous exercises, because belly fat must be burnt, and the fear that I may have yet another visit to the doctor. Mehn! Hard stuff.

And this is why I’m writing to you, because I’m starting again today. I’m writing to encourage you to face that fear afraid. Yes, please. 18 days are much more than can be wasted on regrets.

Stop saying “what if?” and start saying “and if not…”

I’m exhausted, my darling. I will write to you tomorrow.

Yours, GJ. ♥️

Emem ye ifure.