The yoga mums are losing weight. Their hips, once softened by pregnancies and late-night snacks, are now protruding bones. Their CrossFit-flattened breasts have been lifted by skillful scalpels. Their taut stomachs scream carb cycling and willpower. New piercings and discreet tattoos hint at a dash of wantonness behind their beige trench coats and their Liberty blouses.
I envy their cellulite-free thighs, their chiselled biceps, and I wonder when did I go off their rails. Why couldn’t I find my true self and reclaim my identity?
‘We’re not expecting anymore Celia!’ they said the last time we had cupcakes for tea. ‘Don’t you want your life back?’
‘I do, I do!’ I said, pondering what should I call the past decade, if not life.
Saturday 24 June 2023
'Your life back' by Eleonora Balsano
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