That Icky Guilty Feeling

I can feel the hormones rushing through my bloodstream. And with the heat and perfect setting, I knew I had to give in to my carnal desire. So I did it.

I drank a mug of ice cold Coke.

It felt good.

I have been abstaining from drinking any form of carbonated drink in the past few months. Either I try to compensate my craving with iced tea for the glucose boost or flavored sparkling water to quench the thirst.

And it didn't stop there. For some reason, my body kept craving for something sweet and salty at the same time. And though I have promised junkfood celebacy, I asked our househelp to buy me a pack of Vcut. A big one. No! Make it two.

So there I was, stuffing my face with 360 calories of barbeque flavored potato chips and a liter of Coke. Not to mention the dangerously-high-risk-of-edema-level of sodium.

A little while later, I felt bloated. The sodium I took in started taking its toll. I am retaining water. So much for practicing the Water-Electrolyte Balance lectures I attended in college. My professor would be ashamed to call me her student.

I groaned as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. There is no stopping this stupid weight gain. I have to have some form of regular physical activity. I need a badminton playmate. As soon as possible. I want to be able to wear my favorite blouses come November. And if my dad sees me this fat, he'll get really upset (Trivia: the vainest person in our family is my Dad, maybe that's why he married my mom).

I hate myself for giving into my sudden salty food cravings. I hate myself for not being able to fit in half of the pants in my closet as well as all the cute blouses I saved up for. I hate myself for letting my body balloon like this. And most of all, I hate myself for not doing anything about it, considering my knowledge in weight management.

I have to do something. Soon.