Last week was an eventless first week of the year until I tried to fit into one of my beautifully tailored pants.

There was a long moment of strain between the thighs and the buttocks when I had to jump - something like three jumps, with side sways, bending and hard squeezing of my hips.

It became apparent that calories had been at it again. The busy little bastards have been sewing at my favourite clothes, tucking and altering almost everything in my wardrobe.

I am not one to over-indulge on festive delicacies and those seven salads at Christmas dinner.

I have been petite all my life. I truly have no idea how to explain the weight gain. And I could not, for the life of me, understand why the excess chose to settle on my buttocks and my back, and form two breast-like folds - when I desperately need a C-cup on the bosom front.

You see, this was a confusing development for me as a darkie woman. A part of me whispered that I must embrace the little thickness and blunt curves - that I was probably finally settling into my African shape like the rest of the women in my family.

Initially, I had comical thoughts about how I am now going to have to do a hundred squats in the mornings and wear thongs to flaunt all that junk in my trunk.

Maybe I could wear tights under my skirts and start asking for space when I pass people or even take up twerking classes, start a dance group and charge in dollars for performances.

I also thought of taking all my photos from behind.

But weight gain does not always translate to luscious curves and a Faith Nketsi waist is most definitely not in my book of blessings.

I realised that while the change in my body was minimal, it had had a great psychological effect on me. I have been feeling heavy, and it is as if the weight is a physical object that I carry with me everywhere I go.

The thoughts about the changes in my body make me anxious. I am constantly fatigued and irritable. I am depressed.

So, I finally bought a bathroom scale.

The weight gain was a little under three kilograms. Yes, all of 2.7kg but it is a mountain on a frame like mine.

Nonetheless, I have decided that I am joining the hordes of folks who will be sweating it out at gym trying to make good on their new year's resolution for physical fitness.

I will bear with the frowns of the fitness freaks who wish the gym was as empty as in November. I will forgive the judgmental looks from those who feel the treadmill should be left to those who have "real" weight issues.

After all, a petite body is not always the epitome of fitness.

I too have to face my demons and work on my health.