I sigh “I am a strong, beautiful, confident woman, mother, friend and my weight does not enslave me.”…Hello, who am I kidding. My, so called, ‘extra baggage’ rares its ugly and embarrassing head at the best of times to say it doesn’t enslave me is highly optimistic on my part it is actually the bane of my existence for much of my 30 yrs.  I stop short at saying ‘affirmations’ are a waste of time but some days its easier to believe them than others and today it seems, is one of those days.
Defiated, I give up and return to my daily chore of picking up after my two darling, but messy, preschoolers. My eldest son Abe, is out the back climbing and exploring the bank of bush-land that borders the boundary of our small but cosy three bedroom box we call a home. My youngest, Fi is in bed having her afternoon nap.
It is the first bit of solace I have had all day. I would love to put up my feet and enjoy a few moments of bliss, curled up with a good romance or watching recordings of Shortland Street, which i inevitably never get to watch because the kidilings have hijacked the tv. Instead I find myself moving up and down the passage picking up and putting away clothes, toys and other incidentals that have found themselves abandoned, scattered throughout our home. With eyes down i go to work, trying really hard to avoid the hippopotamus at the end of the passageway.
I am saved sneaking another terrifying look by the phone ringing…caller id flashes my Grandma Rose is seeking my attention. Hesitating a moment, taking a big breath I pick up the handset.
 These calls from my grandma generally start with her enquiring after her grandchildren, and berating me for not attending or contributing to one family event of another and usually ended with her lecturing me on why I should be keeping in touch with my estranged sister, Tiresa. Why do I even pick up? She is family and when on a mission she doesn’t give up easily. Besides she is the last link to my mother.
“Hello, Isabella speaking.” My voice is tight and I sound hurried and flustered as I pick up a straggly, watersoaked teddybear – Fi no doubt had given him a bath. I wonder how soon i will be released from the prison in my hand and wait…
“Isabella?” My grandma had never cottoned on to calling me by my nickname Bella which all my other family and friends use preferring instead to call me by my full name Isabella White.
“Hi Mama Rose, how are you?” Cradling the phone between my shoulder and my ear I continue picking up the toys. If I am going to have to listen to another lecture I might as well redeem the time.
“Fine, fine Dear One, how are Fanau o lau fanau”