For three days in a row Kim and I hauled our overweight bodies to Trinoma to eat Brothers onion rings and burgers. Three days in a row. On the third day we were afraid that the counterpersons and waiters already recognized us and Kim had to give a fake name (“Dodong”) and we practically slinked into the store, desperately hoping that there’d be vacant seats (There were).
I have gained so much weight since I got married. When I compare my body now to how it was say, four, five years ago, I am shocked at how much I resembled a lollipop – stick body, big head (I remember Nova telling me that my head looked like it was going to fall off because of how thin my frame was). Now, well, I’ve been forced to give away most of my pants and get new old ones (ukay-ukay, ano pa ba) because it’s become an exercise in masochism to try to get into them.
I eat when Kim eats. Kim is worse, because when I’m full and my plate isn’t empty, he eats what’s left over. We’re a pair of slowly growing blimps. We shlump in front of the tv and eat crisps or whatever salty junkfood there is in the fridge. We have an agreement to eat in different places and rate them according to this standard: worth our money and we’re going to eat there again; waste of money because the food sucked big time; expensive-but-hey-we-salivated-all-throughout-the-meal; we will never eat there again because it’s so immoral to spend so much for one single meal.
I always tell myself that I will resume jogging. That I will eat healthier, that I will go to the doctor for a check-up, that I will quit the junkfood. Sorry to say that I haven’t done any of these things (but I do drink tea, if that’s a good thing. Tea is said to be good for digestion, and good health starts with good digestion, right?). Gad.
My oldest friends would be really surprised to know that I’ve become interested in food. Eating used to be something I did so I wouldn’t drop dead; it was hardly a pastime or an enjoyment. Now, well, food could be my friend, and we’re getting to know each other. I find food really friendly, and am not so shy anymore.
After the burgers, we resolved to walk around to help the food go down faster (and because we felt so bloated and full like a pair of slugs let loose on a field of whatever-it-is-slugs eat.
Kaso, napadaan naman sa DQ. Hay.
I thought that I would be able to use the four day break to do some serious writing; instead I ended up watching Grey’s Anatomy Season 3 nonstop until 4 in the morning. The most productive thing I was able to do was to clean my mom’s living room.
Since my dad died, the house has been in more or less chaotic state. In the last three years it has taken on the look and atmosphere of a a garage or an attic, and there’s a perpetual sale going on. Books piled on top of each other, DVDs mixed with music CDs, dusty picture frames, pens stuck in flowerpots, the eggshell tile floor has become more gray than white, that sort of thing. So last Sunday I thought, hell, this can’t go on. I armed myself with rags and cleanser , the broom and the dustpan and for the next six hours I swept and dusted, scrubbed and polished and re-arranged the furniture.
Very satisfying results.The spiders now hate me.
Arroyo’s allies in Pampanga are preparing a so-called People’s Congress for Unity and Peace and they’re coming out with a manifesto opposing the recent calls for Arroyo’s resignation issued by three CBCP bishops and former VP Teofisto Guingona.
Arroyo’s allies are ‘nauseated’ and ‘shocked’ by the resignation calls.
They’re shocked?! They’re nauseated?! What about the rest of us? We’re practically ill with disgust and outrage at how this government conducts itself; at how the corrupt and illegitimate executive continues to project an image of righteous magnanimity. It’s more than enough to make one throw up pints and end up in the hospital.
These politicians who align themselves with Arroyo call themselves Progressive and Responsive Organization for Genuine Leadership, Outstanding Reform Initiative and Action (Pro-Gloria) should get their heads examined simply for coming up with such an awful, super pilit acronym. Gad.