6:20 a.m., January 10. I walk into the gym, half awake after rousing myself up from a deep sleep, dreaming of dried thigh (too strange to put in a semi-public forum like this, so believe me when I say it was one of the strangest dreams I've had in awhile, and I'm on the top weird dreamers of this century), too groggy to think beyond putting on my gym clothes and staggering downstairs to the waiting car.
I fiddle with the locker, not noticing the lock's not really locking in place, put on my monitor, but decide instead to do a last minute weigh-in before sweating out my built-up toxins. I fiddle with the scale, moving it between the marks. It's too heavy. Move it lower, still too heavy. Move it back two pounds lower and viola, a perfect balance. OMG, I lost weight! Wow. And it doesn't sink in until after lunch.
What a great way to keep going on the path of health. I just wish I didn't have to spend two hours exercising each day and avoiding all the good things in life: chocolate, ice cream, and more chocolate. And a big bowl of fried rice with taba ng talangka (crabfat).
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