Change

Someone once said that change begins from the inside out.
But I'm somehow it's easier to believe that change can only begin from the outside in. Moreover, isn't that how slimming centres usually sell themselves? By having people lose their weight and saying how confident they feel about themselves after slimming down?

If change begins from the inside out, it means that you have to change the way you think before and then the way you behave and then the way you look which will further improve the way you feel. Which means that I have to feel confident looking fat before I can feel confident looking slim. Hmm?

Dear God, could you please send some earthquake into my life and shake me up? Jolt me out of my apthetic ( and pathetic, defeated) state. Let me not allow myself to waste my life away. I do not want to wake up everyday feeling like there's nothing for me to live for except to eat and eat and eat and make myself wish I were dead. Period. The mother still treats me like a criminal at home. She thinks that I'm the thief that steals away her food. In the first place, i wouldn't be a thief if she didn't HIDE the food. Hmm. Now I'm starting to see my close resemblance to a squirrel. Even people have commented that I eat like a squirrel, I nibble at my food and discard the unwanted parts away. Which is..'cute' if I may so call it. Blah.

I'm so fearful. Of seeing myself ballooning. Apparently, I guess I am a person of extremes. One moment I looked like I was someone from Etopia, and the next I look like someone living in a world of abundance and wastage( like USA) and living up to every single bit and crumb of it. The other part of my conflicted mind tells me that allowing myself to balloon is like a outward expression of the 'rebel' within me, a protest against the very world that I live in, that I want to grow fat and i don't give a veggie what you think about me. I can be happy AND fat. Ha. Ha.

But I know that I'm only deceiving myself terribly. I do not want to be fat. I want to be slim, and happy. I used to have this "Project Slim and Happy" plan thing. But I gave up after less than a day. I'm impossible. But I'm not nothing. I'm a thing. And the thing is a 'chomping monster'. Muahaha. By the way, Cookie monster is my less aggressive and distant cousin. He only knows about cookies. I know way WAY more than just that. I know that eating too much will kill me, some day. Why? Coz' I'm always eating till I'm out of breath. Serious. And I keep going. Perhaps that's how I get all the endurance to run long distances. Emotional bingeing? I guess so. Only God can fill up this emptiness within me. I know. I really, really, do. Adeline, Vera, Grace, Min, Nicky, I know I need God. I'm trying to keep Him as close to my heart, soul and mind as possible. But just as I am about to take a step closer to His protective shelter, my Gardenia raisin bread beckons. I can literally hear it saying: Don't you miss me? I'm longing for a bite from you. Yeah. Right. As if bread could talk. Perhaps that's how the owner of a popular bakery in Singapore derived the name of his company. He has probably heard bread talking to him on one too many occasions. And actually, when I enter the shop, I can hear a cacaphony of voices. Tormenting me.

Hmm. Is all that bread driving my creative writing juices or is it driving me nuts? I'm not too sure either.