Hi my loves 🖤
I’ve missed you.
Did you miss me?

I’m sure I’m not alone in this; the feeling that if you could just go back in time, even for five minutes, you’d do something differently. Change a decision. Say less. Say more. Walk away earlier. Or stay a little longer.

Something happened today that made me start thinking about it again.

I’m starting a calorie deficit today. Gym included. And no, it’s not because I suddenly woke up hating my body. I won’t lie and say I’m one of those people who “love every inch of themselves” every single day but generally, I’m fine. I exist. I live. I wear my clothes.

But my stomach?
That one thing.

I have a line on my stomach. Some people say it’s an ab line and maybe they say it to make me feel better but it makes my stomach look divided. The top part is flat, then there’s this lower belly fat that gathers underneath. And I know exactly where it came from.

Senior secondary school.

We wore skirts then, and for reasons I genuinely cannot explain now, I decided to sew the waist tighter. My skirt was already fine. There was no need. No one forced me. It wasn’t even a “fashion” or “trend” thing. But I did it anyway. Over and over again.

One thing about me, my skin is soft. Very soft. And five years later, here I am, still seeing the result of that small, careless decision every time I look in the mirror.

I can’t say I haven’t tried things. I have. I also can’t say I hate my body. I don’t. But this stomach? I won’t lie I hate DISLIKE it. I’m insecure about it. I think about it too often. I sit down sometimes and just whisper to myself, “If only you knew. Why did you do that?”

And that’s where the time-travel thoughts come in.

Because at least once a month, I find myself wishing I could go back to that version of me; tugging at the waist of her skirt and just tap her shoulder. Just once. Tell her to stop.

But this time, instead of wishing, I’m taking a step. And I’m happy about it. I hope it works out well.

That’s not the only time I want to go back in time, though.

Sometimes it’s 3 a.m. I’m tired. I want to sleep. I put my phone down. And then, boom a memory pops up. Something I said. Something I did. The way I spoke. The way I acted. I cringe so hard it feels physical. I replay it over and over, wishing I could just rewind and behave differently.

At least once a week, I want to go back in time.

And sometimes it’s not even deep. Sometimes it’s small, almost stupid things.

Like going to the market. Someone tells me a price. I think it’s expensive, so I leave. I go somewhere else and realize the price is double. I can’t even remember the first place anymore. I’ll never find it again. But I’ll think about it. Deeply.

There was a short once. The price was fair. It was comfortable. I liked it. I didn’t buy it. I don’t even live in that state anymore and yet, randomly, that short still crosses my mind. Why didn’t I just buy it? I would have worn it. I know I would have.

Or the opposite; times I’ve overpaid for things, only to later discover the price was actually much lower. And again, the thought returns: If only I could go back.

It’s a whole collection of moments. 

Big ones. Small ones. Emotional ones. Ridiculous ones.

All stacked together in my mind.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s just me. Or if everyone secretly carries a version of their past they wish they could edit; just a little.

Maybe we all want to go back in time.
Not to live there.
Just to fix one thing.
Or to forgive ourselves for it.

And since we can’t…
Maybe the best we can do is take steps forward anyway.

Even if it’s starting with something as small and as personal — as your stomach.