Wednesday, November 23, 2011

I hate my guts

It seems like a long time ago that I had an enviable waist line. It’s unbelievable, yet it’s true. The chocolates and chips and jams and other sinful savories I consumed somehow magically didn’t show on me. People who know me from my high school years or early college days can attest to that. Though it was around that time that my friends in my group started worrying about daily calorie consumption, I continued skipping meals and eating biscuits instead, and didn’t care about any of healthy stuff and never exercised. Even with all that I was really petite then. XS actually. (So thin that some people in my family were concerned if my Mother was feeding me right). So a no-flap, tight belly was not a highlight at all in my already lean form. I wasn't especially proud of my hip either. The truth is I didn’t care.

I’m still petite. Size wise! Now I choose right, exercise enough and have a cardio-friendly diet. I read the labels for ‘Calorie from Fat’ before I buy a product. But I worry if my waist number will overtake my age number. After trying all ways to reduce the piled on kilos especially in the abs, I somehow seemed to add to it. So now I’m on the defense. I’m trying to at least not put on any more than what is already there. If reduction isn’t working maintaining is the only option and even that’s hard work. I do the right things and yet I’m unhappy about the result. The truth is I care.

Bad crappy irony, I say.

Good thing winter is here. With all the bulky sweaters I don’t have to worry about my perpetual bump showing.

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