- height: 5’6″, weight: whopping 71kg/156lbs
- breakfast: oatmeal + organic nz clover honey + cashew nuts
- lunch: 3 low fat breaded cod fingers with low fat butter + cream cheese + sambal in bun
- dinner: tuna salad with organic balsamic vinegar + cashew nuts
- burned: 452 calories over a painful and bloody boring stretch of 75 minutes
after the first 10 minutes on the treadmill and Days of Our Lives blaring on the tv (the Indian chick was watching it), i was ready to run back downstairs and bake some lemon white chocolate cookies. after 75 minutes, i wondered to myself, “how long will this last?”
because as soon as i got home, i was ravenous. as i sat on the floor in absolute agony over what to eat so i don’t waste the burn on the treadmill, i pictured myself at 65kg.
and then i remembered something, what someone had searched for online in order to accidentally stumble over this lunatic’s blog.
that’s right, folks, i am a woman who enjoys being fat.
that’s why my daily diet consists of tubs of lard, barrels of cookies soaked in hydrogenated palm oils, cartons of triple chocolate threat ice-cream, strings of bratwursts and to top it off, i wash them all down with jugs of unrefined sunflower oil with crushed potato chips.
i don’t know how some of these search engines work but i can see how “women”, “who”, “enjoy”, “being”, “fat” all led to my blog.
so i’ve decided to publish my daily meals, successes and failures – so i can shame myself publicly to a healthier me.
i am now nostalgic for the days i was 58 – 62kg and didn’t lose my breath after a few flights of stairs. nostalgic for the days i asked to participate in physical ed tests (because i was a loonie) when other girls escaped with non-existent cramps and periods that seemed to last all year long.
i’d contemplated eating myself to death once. apparently, on average, men die 5 years earlier than women and since Ravi’s 12 years older, it would mean that he’d die, theoretically, 17 years before i and 17 years is far too long to live, waiting for some fireman to find me mummified in front of my blaring tv.
but you can only eat so many chips and hotdogs before you get sick. i’d like to see if i can do this for a month. gyms are so … laaaaaangweilig.
this was exactly what i’d have needed years ago when my mom found my diary the one time i left it in a bag at home as i went out with a boyfriend on the sly. i believe i told her i went out to meet up with friends to finish a school project. our relationship was doomed from the start. the only son of a Hindu priest and a progressive Muslim with dreams of setting up a school in Nepal? my father made me swear on the Koran i was still a virgin and threatened to marry me off to a Pakistani man – this was more traumatising than my first Pap smear.
forget dogs and cats! i’d buy these tags for myself and one for Ravi. he’s getting “Scratch My Butt” though a 37 years old adult man would probably prefer to commit suicide by sharks than wear this.
and you know those darn Rubik cubes which some people solve in 11 seconds (and 8 year old kids like me cheat-solved by removing one corner)? this French artist is amaaazing, he uses Rubik cubes to make mosaic portraits. i can’t imagine how long it takes for him to play with each cube to get the perfect colour pixels in the right spots – it’s hard enough to get one colour on each side. this is art.
i’m gonna disappear now and countdown to 0001am – that’s when tickets to Russell Peters go on sale and i’m not about to miss out. his first show (1400 seats) sold out within hours.