Gym = No gym

Why the post title? Well, let me tell you a story.


Once upon a time, not too long ago, just yesterday, actually, there were two girls called Jasmine and Kellie, who both made a date to go to the Taylor's University gym for some presumably hardcore working out.


They arrived in the morning, and were quite impressed by the gym - the equipment looked professional, and there was a wide variety of them, each targeting different areas of the body. They worked out there for an hour, by which time Kellie was basically dying of her low stamina and overworking of her legs.


Lunch was as usual - Zhia's Kitchen, crispy chicken rice. They then met a lecturer at a bazaar, and asked him regarding the coming degree course. They were basically sent to the Exam Unit, where they got the information that the documents they needed for the coming registration was available by Friday.


They then went to the office and asked about the early bird discount, and they lady told them that to be entitled for the early bird discount, they would have to register and enroll by 25th of March. They stopped at Sunway Pyramid to meet up with Jasmine's mum at Sakae Sushi, where they had another round of lunch.


Then they went home, where Kellie got home to find her car pooped on by @#$%^& birds again. Upon arriving home, Kellie showered and found that her internet connection had once again failed her, and proceeded to doing word searches and ultimately falling asleep.


By the time she woke up it was dinner time, and what was available didn't seem very appetizing. However, it was the soup and the desserts that grabbed her attention - vegetable soup with chicken feet, and honeydew sago cream, and a potential serving of vanilla ice cream interlaced with delicious pralines.


She had her soup, ladling approximately a quarter of it back into the soup pot before touching it (as well as one of the chicken feet). She then had a large bowl of the honeydew cream dessert. To be honest, she offered to finish the "little bit" that was left in the bowl.


The End.


Well, not really. I have some more bulls**t to talk about. At lunch I stopped myself from ordering a huge-ass ice blended pearl drink (ended up with a very weird tasting honey milk with green tea). I regretted ordering rice, because we all know that rice is all carbs. Plus the rolled oats and the fried chicken, plus the Ajinomoto and pepper soup. Ugh.


At Sakae Sushi, we had, well, sushi, salmon fish head, chawan mushi, edamame, and lots of other stuff. By the time we left, we were both bloated (I had some rear gas issues later). Um, if no one got the issue here, sushi is mainly RICE. Rice = carbs. Again.


I almost never eat rice for dinner. And I didn't. The soup itself made me guilty. I don't know why, but it did, I think because of the collagen-rich chicken foot. Ever since I tried chicken feet when I was around 10, I liked it and ate it whenever I could. Now, chicken feet are rich in collagen, and the collagen comes in the form of a clear gelatinous substance under the skin of the chicken.


Usually, for chicken, whatever is directly under the skin and isn't flesh, it's fat. Maybe that's what got me guilty - the feeling of chowing down fat, when it really was just collagen.


Oh, god. Don't even mention the cream dessert. It's basically 50% honeydew chunks and puree, 40% dessert topping (a.k.a. CALORIE-PACKED CREAM) and 10% sago. The night before I had a ladle and a half, which was pretty satisfying already. Thank god that night's dinner wasn't something with cream again.


Being the glutton that I am, I already had two entire ladlefuls in my lacquered bowl, and I offered to just finish up the last ladleful. After chowing all of that down, I felt fatter than I was before gym. And I was the girl with the fattest thighs in the entire gym. I could just die of embarrassment already.


How the @#$%^& could I have let myself get to this weight again? Didn't I already promise myself that I'll never be a 60kg whopper again? I know, this weight is normal compared to the American super-sized people. This isn't really about the health thing, it's more of my personal image. I really don't want to be referred to as "the fat girl" for the rest of my life.


I rarely wear shorts when I go out, because I'm extremely self-conscious at the thin girls who point, laugh and shake their heads at my thunder thighs, while they saunter around with slim legs and sexy shorts. Even some of my friends wondered why I was so bloated all of a sudden.


Confidence is a girl's best asset, and it's something I don't have. I walk around everyday, imagining what every single person is thinking when they see me. "God, she looks fat." "Did you see her arms and her tummy? They're huge!"


My face doesn't help much - with uneven patches of redness spattered across and pores that look like the craters on the surface of the moon, I feel ugly. And it's not like I don't take care of my skin - I have a morning and night regimen, I don't use much products, but I've tried almost every possible product that had "reduces pore size", "pore minimizer", all that kind of stuff printed on them.


Heck, sometimes I even steal some of my mum's more expensive SK-II stuff. Nothing works. Every time I use the egg mask, I'll get matte skin for around two hours, then it's back to how it was before. It's even worse if I sweat.


I think my BF already partially resents me for my continuous complaints about my skin, my weight, and my appearance in general, when he's already said a million times that he'd stick with me even if I become a whale.


I should stop now.