Die, Fats, Die

In the ten months that I have started working here, 5 kilos have sneakily planted themselves onto my frame. It’s a deadly combination of working late, lack of time thus to do my runs, then eating late, and not having any healthier options available during lunch. Plus, I get so tired these days, I usually cab to work (a prudent investment to me) in the mornings just to coax myself into a perkier state of mind.

5 kilos!!! KNS! I have been maintaining a constant weight for the past 8 years before this. The sheer humiliating horror of moving from slightly plump to plain fat (‘cos I’m short – so at a disadvantage when it comes to fat distribution) must no longer be endured. Who cares if I can run 10km, 21 km or a bloody marathon when I’m fat? Hurhur.

So today, I’ve signed up for a one-year gym membership at Amore to start the fat-cutting. It’s a 5-min walk away, has some great classes, is relatively un-crowded, with no need to queue for machines, population being almost entirely female, and so I have no excuse not to exercise now. No more worrying about the sun or rain either. Most importantly, working out will release one’s frustration whenever one is rendered helpless in the innocent face of stupidity.

I’m officially less of a hippie, more of a yuppie now. Sigh.

Die, fats, die.