I got home starving a bit from a whole day’s work. When I dropped by the kitchen, this is what I saw:
I had to fight a strong urge to eat my favorite Piattos (Sour Cream & Onion). I generally prefer chips in sour cream, garlic or plain and salted. But I know that the moment I open the pack, I would not be just tasting but emptying it down. I just got a banana and drank two glasses of water. Mind over matter as I am about to sleep and I did not want to feel guilty after. I know very well that I have a delicate relationship with food, which I last described in my previous entry.
Since I started my renewed dedication towards exercise and watching what I eat last May, I look back at the things I wrote in my agenda and see gaping holes in my weekly routine. What started as 4 times a week exercise would eventually drop down to three on some weeks. Then I will feel guilty and compensate with exercise in the middle of the night and cutting back on food on the most random time. Again, I do not have a weight goal. I just want to feel better in the clothes I wear. I’m normally a “T-shirt, jeans, sneakers”-type of person but ever since that a particular dress code in the office was imposed, I began to watch what I do as well.
When I look at the mirror, I keep on seeing the things I hated about myself. Those love handles and some belly fat I can’t even rid of, even when I was still an active athlete back in college. Then I recall that even those times when I was at my peak, I hated my body a lot and compare myself with my skinny co-members who will never gain that much weight. Of course, it was unfair and I can’t do anything about it.
Almost two months of dedication, I’m still not sure of any changes:
My eyes would go straight to that unsightly bulge. Then when I exercise, I keep telling myself that I’m fat whenever I feel like not finishing the set or getting tired with what I should be doing. It works.
I do not want to harm myself because I know I have a lot of things to do and accomplish, especially this year. Comprehensive examinations, language proficiency exams I should have already taken, family obligations, etc. etc. etc. Sometimes when things get too complicated and I get easily frustrated and how I react to the people around me, I get hard on myself. Really, really hard. I’m naturally an ill-tempered person, even when I was little. However, I feel like I’m a notch higher in terms of irritability. I just hate excessive noise and yipyapping and people hissing at me like an angry goose. I shut them down.
Last Tuesday was a different story, though. I was so happy with our dinner and we ate in Tokyo Tokyo, which serves unlimited rice, and I stuffed myself so much. Since May, I have slowly trained my body to take enough food to keep me going. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not undereating but just following the ubiquitous ‘eat-frequently-of-less-food-than-few-big-helpings’ advice. But that particular Tuesday, I felt really sick that I had to force myself to get the food out. I don’t normally do this and for the record, I only did it twice. I don’t want to ruin my digestive tract, especially my teeth as I’ve spent several years having them corrected with braces and retainers. That money won’t go to waste. I even totally stopped taking some prescription drugs twice because I firmly believe that whatever body shape I desire can be achieved naturally. That, and Mon and my mother caught me with them, even if I tried concealing them hard. The cat was out of the bag and I eventually stopped.
I’m done rambling. I just don’t want to see those packs of Piattos again on any weekday.