I was tired, but I was even more tired of feeling tired.
I gained five pounds, but on my frame (large by Asian standards, small by American), it felt more like twenty kilos.
I was on the elliptical, which felt as thought I was trudging through mud, and a doctor on the mini-television screen was selling his new book, telling the ladies on The View how sugar was more addictive than cocaine.
Oh, could I be a guinea pig.
For someone who dismissed drugs because I didn't like the idea of being out of control, I had become a glutton and despite my active lifestyle, the guilt was dragging down my metabolism. The rolls on the stomach were definitely forming, spilling over my jeans and winter tights. My friends tell me I don't look fat but rather fabulous but I'm conscious of the back jiggle that had existed back in high school. I think technically, I'm approaching the heaviest I've been.
Not that numbers matter. But calories do.
Pie, cookies and ice cream. Following all the foodies via Instagram and looking at #foodporn made me covet more than I should consume. I became more aware of the rate of how quickly the sweets were inhaled yet I couldn't stop. I was concerned about the possibility of adult on-set diabetes.
Thankfully, Lent was around the corner.
You only live once but if Jesus lived in modern times do you think he would treat himself? What would Jesus do?
The observance's hard and fast rules entail just one full meal a day and abstinence... from meat. Fish on Fridays. Not too many carbs. No more desserts, but half glass of wine reminiscent of Communion, sure (my improvisation).
One year I decided to add a routine instead of taking out a mild vice -- a mile. I could run or I could walk but the goal was to just get on the treadmill. It helped me establish a habit of just showing up and training my brain to remember to do other things like going to mass. Energy and soul revived, if for forty days.
Let's live lightly and eat more colorfully. Forgive us our culinary transgressions and get back on track to modesty.
Many Catholics believe we're born sinners and maybe I'm destined to fail but Lord help me not call for cupcakes in vain.
My birthday tends to fall during this special religious time, sometimes on Good Friday. Maybe this year, I won't have cake.