There were a few peeeeekchur worthy non-events the past couple of months, and as I was reviewing the photos for deletion in my camera I noted that I now look like a ref. I have grown fatter than ever, with bulges where bulges shouldn't be.
While this infernal fatness may seem intuitively inconsistent to my impoverished state (having spent blog entries upon blog entries about having to ask someone to roll over his car over a toothpaste tube so I could make it said) I realized that my fatness is totally a function of having no money at all. In this regard a hellow's state of kahirapan is unique, because while I may not have the option to eat in Sbarro whenever I want, buffets and pastries and donuts and pastries are thrusted upon our faces and rammed down our throats all the time.
For instance, I usually wake up in the morning and go to the clinic with no plans to eat breakfast at all, having gotten used to a cup of coffee in sheer pagtitipid. However, what should I see in the callroom table one morning but a box of Krispy Kreme. We hate Krispy Kreme, horrified at the thought of a sweet donut coated in thick confectionary sugar dipped in chocolate with chocolate sprinkles with a huge Kit Kat bar sitting on it. But since it's THERE, and I was afraid I would go hungry later in the day, even if the thought of eating a sweet donut coated in thick etc is gross, I wolfed down... two donuts! In five minutes! Or when Gay B. brought back an apple cinnamon cake from Session Road, since I probably wouldn't go to Baguio any time soon in pure kahirapan, I ate TWO slices immediately! Or whenever we are treated to restaurant or hotel buffets, I would eat loads and loads of fatty lechon and paella and crispy pata and cherry pastries and plates and plates of sushi and salmon sashimi despite being extremely full, afraid that I would not have a chance to eat again later in the day! Add to that the fact that my patients from Aklan, Naga, Zamboanga, Batangas, etc. bring all sorts of native pastries and the ubiquitous Red Ribbon cakes for more happy eatification! In two words: Patay Gutom!
As a second, and possibly MORE feasible explanation for my craptastic corpulence, is that I have consciously stuffed myself with lots and lots and lots of food to gain lots and lots and lots of weight and somehow diminish my daily paranoia that I have, what else, cancer. In the past two years I have feared that I have all of these cancers, and since I don't want to do diagnostics and stuff I thought I would just use weight gain as a surrogate marker. Of course this is not absolute, but for now I would like to enjoy a few weeks of being paranoia-free.
And as a third reason, the real one: I don't exercise. I'm an M.I. waiting to happen.