Challenged

I was never a believer of diets. I never believed in sacrificing glorious food for the sake of achieving an ideal weight. I live to eat. Eat every single delicacy I can ever set my mouth on, taste every delectable taste that will send my tastebuds tingling. Tell me you're on diet? I'd scoff inwardly and hate for the word 'diet' will be pushed further to the limit.

Diet? Never.

But I sit at the dinner table, contemplating whether to eat a second bowl of rice. I give in in the end and I feel like I'm piling on the pounds as I ingest each grain of rice. Not an indulgence. Not the sinful indulgence as they say. This sin doesn't make you feel good. I'm not only just harping on this bowl of rice. There's still the chocolate fondue a few days ago. I seem to be on this obsessive binging spree but I just feel like there's a need to eat, to have something in my mouth. And no, I'm not suffering from bulimia. All the fats are sitting on the thighs, sigh.

I never had the determination to exercise like some fervent gym maniac either. So tiring and I don't really have the heart to. Damn, I must do something about it.

Diet?

... Maybe. Not.