If there’s anything more dangerous than Nutella-stuffed sea salt chocolate chip cookies, it’s me simply being near food.
At first I thought this ravenous appetite would go away after a few days. But I was wrong. It has nothing to do with that time of the month. I’m not even hungry, but I stuff myself until bursting point. What annoys me more than the certainty of ballooning up in the next couple of days is how I can’t even figure out why I’ve been doing this.
What’s behind the endless taste craving? After a refreshing and tart yogurt, I look for something salty. After salty, I look for sweet. After sweet, I hanker for something creamy and rich like chocolate. Hell, if I could even fry a crispy sunny-side up egg I probably would (but I’m already comfy beneath the covers). I don’t deprive myself of ‘cheat’ food, or most other food. So why am I being such a pig?
Do I hate myself? Not always. Am I stressed? I’m not sure. Watching beautiful, toned bodies only intensifies the craving instead of strengthening any resolve to be healthier. The more I observe the dancers’ deep and long abdominal line, the more I scavenge for something to munch on. When long, slim, and smooth legs come walking by, I can’t help stealing a glance. Then I tell myself, next week I’ll eat healthier. But I don’t.
There are many reasons why I want to get slimmer. Some of them count, some are petty. I’m not fat, but I want to eat healthier because I do want to take better care of my body. That’s why I’ve been making an effort in changing what I eat (quality not quantity) and getting more physically active. I need to watch out for my blood sugar level, because I have an incredible weakness for sweets, which I’ve been indulging for the past years. I want to stop taking food for granted. Also, I want to get slimmer just to look slimmer. It’s not the Asian stereotype pressure (where Asian girls are naturally thin so a lot of Asian girls are pressured to starve themselves to look that way), but a personal physical preference. I want to see the cheekbones define my face. I want to look taller. I want to feel light, and less jiggly when I move around. I want to wear dresses without feeling like my bottom half belongs to a cankly, baby elephant (if I were a pig, they’d make seriously good pata tim. My calves are huge). I want nicely toned, gazelle-like legs that, despite being blindingly white, are beautiful and long. If I gain weight, my face will poof up, and that just won’t look good with my super short hair. I want to eat better food so that I can crap better, and other biological activity. I want to stop being overweight. I want to slim down so that on the days I don’t feel good, I’ll have at least a good body to make me feel attractive. I want to be the maximum beautiful I can be while I’m at the young, prime stage of my earthly existence. This is the freaking time to be optimum. Its disappointing to admit that I even think in these ways.
Unnecessary pressure for healthy food and slim dreams aside, I want to get to the bottom of my recent lusty piggery. Because I really, really have been pigging out. The result is a constant feeling of sluggishness. How I sustained a pretty healthy diet before, I don’t know. Maybe it’s time to reread The Omnivore’s Dilemma. Or maybe it’s time to seriously (but forgivingly when appropriate) commit to changing my lifestyle, including the parts where I sleep at 2am on average. It would be awesome if I could wake up early enough to go to the market a couple of days a week.