It was my cousin's wedding, and I was standing in the family photo line in a fitted aso-ebi I had paid a tailor good money to "manage" for me.
By the time the photographer called our group, my stomach had already pushed past what the dress was built to hold. I could feel the zip biting into my side. And then my aunty — loudly, in front of everyone — asked when I was "carrying." I laughed it off. I always laugh it off. But I went into the bathroom, sat in the stall for a few minutes, and just breathed.
That evening wasn't the first time. It was just the loudest.
For months before that, my stomach had a schedule of its own. Flat and fine in the morning. Tight and swollen by 4pm. Full-on "explaining myself" swollen by 7pm. I stopped wearing anything fitted after 2pm. I started sitting at the back in meetings. I began declining invites I actually wanted to go to, just to avoid standing in a dress for too long.
So I did what every one of us does. I tried everything.
The flat-tummy tea everyone on Instagram swore by — worked for four days, then stopped. A gym membership I used religiously for three weeks before work swallowed my evenings. Skipping dinner, which only made me hungrier and, somehow, more bloated the next day. A 14-day "detox challenge" from an influencer that left me light-headed and back to square one within a week of stopping.
I had spent more money chasing a flat stomach than I want to admit. And every single time, the same thing happened: a little progress, then nothing, then back to where I started — feeling like my own body was working against me.
It wasn't until I stopped asking "what tea should I try next" and started asking "what is actually happening inside my body every single day" that anything changed for good.
What I found wasn't another product to add to the pile. It was a handful of simple, natural habits — some of them the exact remedies I grew up watching used in my own home — done consistently, in the right order, at the right time of day. Nothing exotic. Nothing expensive. Just correct, for the first time.
Within days, the evening "balloon" feeling started to ease. By the end of a week, my clothes were sitting differently. I stopped mentally scanning a room for the nearest loose-fitting outfit. I said yes to an owambe two weekends later and wore the dress I actually wanted to wear.
I'm not telling you this to boast. I'm telling you because I remember exactly how it feels to think something is permanently wrong with you — and I found out it wasn't true. I needed you to hear that before anything else on this page.
