Put down that chocolate!

All these while I'm trying to lose my weight, I can never seem to put the chocolate away. I like chocolate cakes, chocolate drinks, Starbucks' chocolate ice blended, chocolate covered almonds or any nuts, chocolate everything. Well, almost everything.

I'm like standing on a fragile string with the I-don't-need-chocolate-in-my-life's determination. Of course down below if I fall, would be straight into a pool of chocolate. At times I succumb to the temptation and let myself fall freely into the pool. At times, I climb back up again and holding up just fine. Of course, it will be much easier if only my housemate, Frank is not a chocolate addict. But because he is and knows that I like chocolate, the fridge is mostly full with chocolate products, especially chocolate bars. He always brings back chocolate from his travels. As a result, I've been lingering in front of the fridge longer than I should, pulling my hands from side to side while debating with myself whether I should grab one and just eat it. The only up side of this is Frank likes plain chocolate bar. I on the other hand, don't. He doesn't know that. Yet.

The craving can be devastating sometimes. Like yesterday, while I was at work finishing off my job until late, my manager came over and brought some chocolate nuggets and offered them to me. How could I say no? I took one and gobbled it up and it was pure heaven. That's what I think about heaven too. A place full of delicious chocolates where you'll never get fat from eating so much of it. However since I wasn't in heaven (still am not), I spent almost half an hour staring at the screen all the while thinking I should give in and get myself a box of chocolate covered almonds after I got out of the office. I didn't. I reached home after midnight, took a shower and soon the exhaustion took over. I fell asleep with the lights on.

I'm up now and even when I grimaced whenever I see myself naked in front of the mirror, I am reminded that I want my dose of that happy drugs. Chocolate...the only thing that I won't consider throwing up. They go all the way down, even when it makes an unwanted delivery to my stomach, thighs, bottom among other body parts.

That, was confession#14.

PS:Happy Halloween by the way! Anyone dressing up as chocolate this year?

Confession#13

(Original image from:http://cache.jalopnik.com/assets/resources/2007/10/stop_sign_chicago.jpg)

No one knows this, but I was the one who ran down the STOP sign on the parking lot at work few months ago. Well, except that one guy who saw me ran over that poor sign. I'm a bad bad driver.

Confession#12

People say some movies are not for the faint hearts. I agree. Only that I am pretty stubborn when it comes to ghost movies. For some reasons, even when I watch movies from this genre through the gaps of my fingers, I still watch them and manage to frighten myself silly along the way. I've been known to make people jump in their seats not because of the scary scenes on screen, but because of my screams. You know how these kind of movies work right? It's bound to give you a heart attack.

However, I seldom have nightmares or reluctant to go to the bathroom after watching them. Well, except when in the hometown house I guess. I get goosebumps just thinking about that house. Anyway like I said, I usually get scared only when I watch the movies. Afterwards, I'd probably be laughing my head off watching some funny movie.

But ever since I watched the horror movies "Juon" and "The Eye", two things changed. Now, whenever I take a shower at night and shampoo my hair, I make sure I open my eyes and rinse my hair as quickly as possible. Remember the shower scene? I do. I can't quite forget the elevator scene from "The Eye" too. Now, everytime I enter an elevator, I keep my back faced to the wall. I used to be so much braver before.

Monday Confession

The things you keep from your colleague...

Confession#11:

After I graduated, I was lucky enough to secure a job very fast. If it were up to me, I would have taken a few months rest before I even started job hunting. Of course, you can only plan. I'm not from a well off family which made finding a job compulsory. And so I started my first day as a working adult a day after I finished my last final exam. It was March 2005. I was 24 and naive.

My first work was in shipping line. I had quite a hard time adjusting to my new life and finding new friends. No surprise there I guess. 3 years later, I'm still working for the same company though now doing a different job functions. 3 years passed by and I only have one colleague that I'm quite close with. Her name is Joan. She's my age and started work a year after me. I talk to her more than all the talking I did with the other colleagues combined. But there are still certain things that not even Joan knows.

When I first started work, I lied about having a boyfriend to avoid going on a date with a co-worker who gave me the creep. I could have told him upfront that I wasn't interested, but I wanted something hard and sharp that worked immediately for the kill. Like I said, he gave me the creep. It did effectively ended his interest and his advances on me, but that one little lie continued spreading among my colleagues until I got tangled in a web. Mind you, I only told the guy's friend in hope that he'd relay it to him. And relay the news he did.

As it turned out, he was quite a gossiper and soon, all of my colleagues found out that I had a 'boyfriend'. I had to invent a story about how we met, how long we've been dating, where he's from, blah, blah, blah. Quite soon, I acquired myself a sweet, good looking (of course) 2 years older boyfriend whom I met when I was doing study exchange program. We were dating long distance (again, of course) and kept in touch through emails mostly. In all, I had a happy relationship. If only they knew.

I usually don't care much about other people's business, so I was amazed how interested they were in mine. Most of the time, I avoided talking about my non-existent love life, though I have to admit, at times it was funny to witness their eagerness in knowing other people's love lives. Mine, in this case.

However, soon enough, I got tired of having to fabricate one lie after another like why he wasn't calling, what usually we talked about, and gasp! when are we getting married. I was new in working life, so I didn't have any idea whether it was normal to ask quite a personal question to your new colleague. In the end, I decided to 'break up' with my boyfriend saying that distance was the main problem. When they asked more, I said I didn't want to talk about it.

That was the end of my last 'relationship'. No one knew I didn't have a boyfriend. Or heartbroken in the least. Joan doesn't know mostly because it happened before we started working together. But, the only thing I regretted about the whole thing is that I told the first original lie to a gossip monger.

Rain drops...hold my secrets

Let me try again...

1)...

Wait. That should be confession#:

3) Lots of people around me think I have quite a strong belief in my religion. But the truth is even though I still believe, it's been a while since I last prayed.

4) I don't like wearing bra. It feels like I can't breathe. Like my chest has been trapped under strict confinement. There are times when I go out without wearing one and use my jacket to cover it. I guess it's a good thing that my twins are small.

5) I read erotic love stories on the web when I'm bored reading intellectual materials. The words used in the stories are kind of funny sometimes that there are times when I laugh when I should be hot and bothered.

6) Last Monday, while checking the mailbox and throwing away the brochures, pamphlets and printed ads dumped in it, I accidentally threw away my housemate, Frank's telephone bill. I didn't realize it until I reached home and couldn't find the mail anywhere in the stack. He probably is wondering why the mail hasn't arrive yet.

7) My family is kind of conservative. I have two guys as my housemates. No one in my family knows.

8) I think most of my colleagues are pretentious lots that love to suck up to the top management.

9) Even though I always said I don't mind wearing glasses, the truth is I feel I look old wearing it. The vain part in me cringe when I see myself wearing one.

Finally,

10) I like cats...when they're not mine. I made other people believe that I love cats so I look like any other loving human beings. The same with babies. Babies terrify me.

I think that's enough secrets for one day. Any other would probably be too much.

Down the Hidden Road

I stare long at the monitor hoping that words would come freely to my mind so I can translate them to the keyboards and onto the screen. But as it always will, my mind freezes and the words stop coming. How is it that when I'm alone I can think of anything and it comes so naturally to me? I construct words after words that will and can reflect my true feelings. Words that can be a bridge to who and what I am. Thoughts that will let you catch a glimpse of my substance. Yet when I want to put it into writing, all the deals are off. No words come, knowing that someone somehow might stumble upon this page and for unknown reason, stop for more than a brief second to actually read them. I always can make it a private space. But it'll have 'COWARD' written all over it. Plus that's not the reason why I decided to write off my secrets. I want to load them off my chest.

To think of any secrets to write is like trying to find a golden scale of a dragon. I have to go down a few dangerous paths before I can even reach the lair. Acidic snow, erupting volcanoes, deserted mountains...bracing through anything and everything, laced with tricky riddles. Even when I found the hidden nest, I'll still have to fight the pissed off dragon and fight it well so I won't die in an untimely demise. In this case, so the blog won't die prematurely. The first time I tried, after thinking hard, I came up discussing about my bodily fluid. V for vomit is probably the most suitable title for that post.

Confession#2: I talk to my car more than I talk to human being.

If my car can listen, it'd know more about me than any other people around me. I know it's weird. And I have yet to read and heard about anyone like me. But there's something comforting about being in my car, doors locked that I can confess about a lot of things I have difficulties to share with others. I vent my frustration after a hard day work inside it, laughed when I did something silly, cried when I did something silly, confess that I'm an emotionally retard who have issues about trusting other people with my inner thoughts to it.

I used to have friends I share things with. In time, we grew apart. They get settled down, have children, enjoying married life. While I still struggle to figure out what I really want in life. Finding new trusted friends is something I'm not good at because I have trust defect. So I'm left without any close friends I can open up my feelings to. Except my car I guess.

I know this is just the third post I've written here. I believe that practice makes perfect. In time, I hope I'll learn to be more open. There will come the time when the thought of sharing my secrets in writing won't cause me to visibly shudder and cringe in embarrassment. For now, I have to go fight that dragon because down the hidden road nestled all my secrets.

V for Vanity

I am standing in front of the mirror frowning and trying to regulate my breathing. I just had dinner I made by myself; rice and spicy beef soup. I clear my throat few times trying to get rid of the soreness in my esophagus. When that didn't help, I gulp more water while standing in front of the mirror. The person staring back at me is still frowning, probably wondering why I just threw up my dinner. No. I don't have food poisoning. I didn't threw up against my will. I made myself to because I felt guilty eating the dinner.

Right after I wrote my first post in this blog, I googled my brain for any small secrets that I can pour out here to officially start the series of confessions of mine. But like any other old diaries you hide in the secretest place in your house inside the old locked box, I had some difficulties trying to retrieve them back. The key's rusty and there are too many padlocks. I never share most of my secrets with anyone else so there was no need for me to thinkabout any of them. I bet inside the drawers are dusty as well.

But tonight after one hearty dinner, I suddenly felt conscious about the inches I gain from one week stay with my family. One week is all it takes to change my diet from a slice or two of sandwiches and drinking lots of water to two or three heavy meals a day. Coming back to my apartment brings back to mind my normal routines, but I was still in holiday mood. I cooked one of my favourite meals and had it with hot rice. All was good until I realized how full I was after dinner. It didn't take long for me to develop a sense of guilt over eating too much, not to mention the one week I didn't keep my diet. Needless to say, I took purposeful steps to the bathroom and with practiced ease threw up all the food that I could out of my stomach into the toilet bowl. I feel lighter and relief, but at the same time I know why I keep it a secret. It's not normal.

Confession#1: I'm occasionally bulimic.

I indeed am leaning heavily towards being bulimic. I said occasionally because I can still control it. I never did it at home around my family or around my friends. I never did it outside. Only in my apartment, in my own bathroom. Even then, I hardly giving in to the urge to purge. In a week I probably do it only once, depends on what I eat. I control this disorder as best as I could. But I will never know when I will have a guilt attack over a meal. I'm not proud about what I do. I never spit a single word about this condition to anyone. Ever.

If you see me on the outside, you'll see a normal girl though slightly on the chubby side. Once in a while, I brave myself to try and wear nice and fashionable clothes and you'll get to see me smiling and pretend that I look pretty. On the inside however, I am wondering what other people are thinking about me. Are they looking at my flabby arms or flat chest? Or perhaps my chubby short legs or my wide behind. Dressing nicely means I'll be visiting the ladies room more times than I normally would just to check that I don't look silly. I feel that everyone are staring at me and talking about me behind my back and I'll lock myself in the stall and check if there's a tear, stain or anything on my clothes. It really is tiring that I prefer to wear the simplest clothes to go outside: jeans and shirt. I can't change my face, but I certainly can try and change my body. No matter how superficial it may sounds, losing weight makes me happy.

Everything has its roots of cause. Growing up, I always have self esteem issues. Kids say the darndest things. They tell you the way it is and whether they mean it or not, it can be a cruel thing to say. Once when I was 7 while I was sitting on the bench with several friends, one girl compared her skinny shapely thighs to my chubby short ones.

"Hey you have fat thighs!" she exclaimed. An uncomfortable feelings crawled in my stomach as I tried to smile. "Look at mine. See?" she continued as she scooted closer to me so the other girls could see the comparison. Even though I didn't realize it at the time, her comments hurt and made me sad. I kept smiling anyway. While other kids were busy learning ABC, I was learning to mask my feelings at the same time. But that was only the beginning. The first few years in school were rough before I learn distancing myself from other kids. But I learnt a bit too late. I experienced one of the worst incidents when I was in 5th grade.

It was Performance Night. I wasn't suppose to be involved in any of the performances. That was until one of the dancers suddenly fell sick with cold and had to stay home that day. Ironically, they didn't have any back up dancers and quickly tried to find a substitute. Almost all the 6th graders were involved in the performances, onstage or backstage, and I guess they were having a problem to find someone to take the place of the sick dancer that they had to turn to 5th grader to extend their search.

As it turned out, one of the dancers was Tina, a senior who was always nice to me. She approached me along with the other girls and asked whether I'd be interested to be in their performance. While I hesitated, I noticed one of the girls pulled Tina aside and overheard her saying that they didn't really need another dancer while glaring at me. She was one of the popular girls in school and very pretty. The way she said in a loud whisper made me think that perhaps she wanted me to hear her objection. Tina said something that effectively quieted the girl.

No matter how shy I was, I liked dancing but I didn't want to make a fool of myself as I would only have 4 to 5 hours to memorize the steps they had weeks to practice. Only that time, for once I wanted to know how it feels to be in the spotlight. How would it feel to wear a nice costume. To feel pretty. This kind of chances didn't come my way all the time. Plus, it was a simple dance and would only take about 5 minutes. So I accepted, much to the chagrin of the other girls. Tina told me that the steps were very easy and she was right. Within an hour, I managed to get all the steps right and happily continued practicing alone. My mom was coming that night so I was excited to have her see me on the stage.

I was early to arrive to get myself ready for the performance. But whether the teachers were too busy or they didn't know I was supposed to be replacing the sick girl, no one bothered to help me put on my make-up. I looked around nervously seeing all the other girls were all ready and pretty, with make-up, glitters and all. I shyly approached a teacher and told her that I was one of the dancers. One look at me and she gasped.

"Why aren't you ready yet?" She pulled me forward and started to put on make-up on my face. At first I was excited. All the other girls looked beautiful with their make-up on and I was pretty sure I'd looked nice too. That was until the teacher gave a nervous laugh and tried to rub some of the make-up off my face with a tissue.

"Oh my!" she said. My heart fell. There was no mirror near me, but I knew something was wrong. It didn't help when another teacher took a look at me and looked incredulous as she asked my 'make-up artist' what did she do to my face. She only shrugged as it was too late to do anything as the performance would start in a few minutes. They quickly shoved me to the backstage to gather with the other dancers.

I peeked through the curtain and saw my mom in the audience. I was getting nervous by the second and all the while trying to rub the make-up off my face hoping that I'd look less bad. A few minutes before the performance, we were all lined up, and the popular girl who was busy talking finally looked around and saw me. I smiled at her a little, but it was cut short by her muffled laugh.

"Oh my God! Look at her! She looks like a clown!" All the other kids turned to look at me and while some looked sorry for me, I only noticed those who tried to hide their giggles.

"Stop it! That was mean of you," Tina hissed at her friend who was still laughing.

"What? I was only telling the truth," she retorted, without looking guilty at all. I hardly saw anyone as the teachers ushered us towards the stage. I felt something burning in my eyes and suddenly everything looked blurry. Then I realized it was my tears.

Needless to say, it was a disaster. I forgot my dance steps and tried to follow the other girls while at the same time trying to hold back my tears. Later when my mom asked me if anything's wrong, I only looked down while shaking my head, too embarrassed to tell her about anything. She never knew I had a rough time at school and I wasn't about to start telling her when I was already in 5th grade. Miraculously, I survived school, though what happened never left my consciousness.

On the outside, you'll see a confident, nonchalant girl. On the inside, only I know what I feel. I guide my secrets well.