Saturday, February 24, 2007

Saturday morning stress and stretch

Every Saturday, I haul my ever growing ass out of bed to go for pre-natal pilates. It's a strange sensation for me to not have actually broken out in sweat for the last five months and round about the third month, coinciding with the abating nausea, I decided it was time to actually find some exercise that I could do. Hence the pilates. It's a great class. Not only do I get to stretch and work muscles that are now buried by the burgeoning bump, it's also a comforting place to be.

It's strange that I'm usually the only Asian, non-expatriate mommy to be in the class. Almost as if the rest of the local expectant population don't think exercise is necessary especially since many believe that they now have to God-given right to be fat! The good thing being the only Asian lady in the class, apart from the instructor who's married to an American and had to squeeze a 4.4 kg baby out of her tiny frame is that for an hour, I don't feel huge and fat! These other women aren't huge and fat either. They're just built on a larger scale than I am. So beside them, even with the exploding bump, I feel rather nicely petite. Anywhere else, I feel like a giant blimp. Especially at work, especially when I look at myself in the mirror and especially when I wear my regular clothes and expect to see the slim silhouette that I have become accustomed to all these years.

The other thing that I've had to become accustomed to is the fact that I'm growing larger and by extension of that, less able to balance. It comes as a strange sensation to me seeing that I once had no problems balancing on nothing else but the tip of my toes. It isn't usually that big a problem when the earth under my feet is stable. But on the occasion that I take the bus or any sort of public transport, it becomes a challenge. It shouldn't, especially if there are seats on the bus or the train or if someone gives up their seat to the lady who looked like she just swallowed a basketball.

Unfortunately this is Singapore. And this morning, not only did I have to wait almost 20 minutes for the bus, the bus was crowded when it got to me. I usually have no problems with squeezing up the bus. And my stop isn't all that far away. But now, the ten minute start-stop bus ride where the bus swerves and darts in and out of traffic is an extremely harrowing experience. Add to that, the fact that Singaporeans don't have the decency to give up their seats. I stood in front of a lady who kept staring at me viciously because my bag kept accidentally hitting her on the head. In my defence, I couldn't help it since I was hanging on for mine and my offspring's dear lives. Now instead of shooting killer looks at me, the problem could have been easily solved by her giving up her seat but no.... so, from where I stood (in all senses of the word), she deserved the knocks she got on her head!

It's a sad sad testament to Singaporean civic mindedness when no one, including a mother and her primary school going daughter who were staring and talking very rudely about my bump but not moving an inch to be considerate. I would have used it as an opportunity to teach my child how to be considerate to others, but obviously, here, comfort was more important. At this point, I need to say that I wasn't really obsessing about the seat, just what the seat had come to symbolise.

I think I was ready to kiss the ground when I finally managed to get off the bus unscathed and in one piece. I then texted Packrat about my experience and his reply was one word- "Bastards!" and it encapsulated it all.

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