Hunny I Blew Up Myself

Dear Ti Rak,

My meetings today lasted longer than I expected. I was already late when I stepped into the assessment room to get my physical examinations done. At the beginning, everything seemed to look strangely smooth and normal about me. Nothing was to worry about.

It started with the blood pressure exam which was found to be normal. Though it was a bit towards the maximum normal limit since I was hastening to this place. Secondly, my oxygen intake after the tread-mill fit test seemed to be even better than average people. The caliper however almost showed no mercy. A bit of fat on the back and a lot (I mean a lot!) of bulge at the waistline. The only good news was that minimum fatty compound could be observed from my biceps and triceps. Yay!

Further into the exam, the flexibility test produced another alerting warning. The consultant said that my flexibility level was next to a log. She recommended me to tune into more yoga classes after this. But how do you suppose to bring your spirit to yoga dreamland when not too long ago someone just successfully re-christened you with the nick, Mr. Stiff Log?

Moving on to the scales was like forcing myself to watch Jelangkung (local horror flick) all over again. The well-expected result was frighteningly high at 39.8% body fat content. You know that’s almost 30 kg of fat hanging onto my voluptuous physique on a day-to-day basis?

Went here and there on several gym equipments afterward, she measured my maximum lifts at this starting point. When the assessment was done thirty minutes later, she helped me design a personalized training program. This she said, should take about 10% off that fat storage of mine into better use in a three month interval. If, I follow the instructions dutifully. And that was of course a very big If. You know me and my midnight cravings lah.

I then killed another hour by doing some routines on my regimens. Relaxing a bit after that. Took a shower cheerily before a fashion tragedy finally occurred: I was packing this nice shirt in which I hadn’t worn in about a year or so. To my horror, the shirt, the only clean thing that I had at the moment, didn’t fit me very well. It was way too small for me to wear in my current size. I was so agitated by the embarrassments that followed. On the way out, it seemed that everyone was just looking at how tight my shirt was. Of course I do realize that I have a nice set of deltoids and a trapezium shoulder to watch for. But my waistline was bulging at the seams and the buttons almost burst from their rightful places. Facing more embarrassments, I then ran to the nearest mall. I then got meself a new shirt that fit (nicely) and more importantly, I regained my self-confident from the ultimate fashion disaster. Thank God that the fashion police himself, Roberto Verdi wasn’t there to give me any ticket for dressing unlawfully.

So darling, I know how you love me just the way I am. How you felt cuddly in my warm hugs. How my one-big-pack (of belly) excites you even better. But today’s experience was pretty scary for me. The not so impressive results of the test and the public humiliations might prove to be too much for me. Let me do a right thing for once.

For my sake, for my health. I need to do some more hard-core training.

I know you’d understand Yang.
Missed you in my bed last night…

Can’t wait to see you soon babe!

Love,
Your Kuma.