Friday, October 26, 2012

A Weighty Issue

Do you have a friend who just eats and eats and never seem to put on any weight whatsoever? At every meal, they are the ones stuffing their goddamn faces with everything and anything like a competitive eater and yet can still fit into their jeans weeks after weeks, months after months, years after years. The most infuriating part about this is they don't exercise. They don't. It's like a gift from god. "Eat as much as you want, I'll take the weight elsewhere, or turn in to smugness."

Oh yes, this very group of people are amongst the most smug. When faced with the question, "How come you don't put on any weight?" the answer will always be, "I don't know. It's genes," and with a shrug on their shoulders. Meanwhile you are at the other end of the table trying to calculate the amount of calories in every dish and for me, always stopping halfway to give my brain time to do the math (I can't, I'm sorry).

"Why are you mumbling to yourself like an idiot? Are you praying or are you playing black magic on the food?" my mum would always say whenever she catches me mumbling to myself trying to calculate the amount of calories that there is in the spread in front of me.

"Just eat, you only live once," my mother would always say.

"You also die once," would be my answer.

"Can, you want to die now? Steak knife is just within my reach," my mum would retort.

At this very instance, my brother would mutter under his breath the same phrase every single time: I'm living with psychos.

"I'll kill you too Harold. Now eat!" my mum would point the steak knife at Harold.

I am pretty concerned about my weight because I have spent my entire childhood plagued with obesity and I have tried my very best (and successfully) to lose all of the weight. At every given chance my mind would work in a frenzy; being fat again is not an option. I gain weight as easily as I lose them so I really have to be careful in order to maintain my desired frame.

Star on the other hand, is one of those smug-never-going-to-be-fat friends that I have. Oh you should see Star at a buffet. Once Melanie actually got scared seeing how much food Star has eaten and is still eating two hours into the meal that she scolded Star in the middle of the buffet queue, "What are you feeding inside? Are you keeping a spirit inside or what?!"

"You should have seen the look on the lady in front of me. She gave me this dirty look, like I gave her herpes or something!" Star complained when she is back at our table.

"Star, that was the sixth time you queued. You mean you're not full?" I asked.

"I will stop if I'm full," Star looked down, gobbling the mountain of sashimi on the plate in front of her.

"I'm about to puke just looking at you eat. And you won't even gain any weight. Why? And how? You don't even exercise. Your idea of a marathon is one that involves DVDs. This is not fair," I said.

"It's genes," Star smugly shrugged.

"Does that mean your mum is a slut too?" Melanie said.

"And your mother was a man before. You're adopted from the slums," Star snapped.

Women and weight, always bitchy.

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