Anywayyy, meet up with Iffah at town and oh my god should have gotten that faux Commes De Garcon shirt at Funkdeco instead of that Baggu bag. Impulse impulse. Another demon I need to battle.
Need to curb on eating. I've been eating a lot and the people around me are like watching their diet and that kind of makes me self-conscious. Sometimes I cursed myself for having such high metabolism rate. Or the tapeworm nest in my stomach. I'm like a non-stop nomming machine. Apparently, the passion pit of gastronomic delight have a void as well; a seething black hole where food just dropped into a hole, never digested properly and absorbed by the red blood cells to the bloodstream. Not distributed to rest of my anatomy.
It's rather ironic that I used to be so fat when I was young and have such low appetite that the doctors gave me Appleton (children's supplement to whet appetite) so that I will eat. It seems that it worked after all. Perhaps a little too much.
Or maybe my body is one twisted paradox; the more I eat the more weight I lose.
Or maybe, as I have not checked my weight yet, the fats are all clogged up in my arteries and capillaries instead of visible fats that we are more comfortable with. An illusion. A skinny bitch in the mirror, a fat bastard behind the mirage. That, is what I'm most afraid of.
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| Or maybe I've been reading too much Paranoid Parrot |
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