This is a Dumb Kind of Sad, but It's Sad Anyway

Look, before you get your panties all bunched up, I know what I'm about to say is shallow, and superficial, and horribly insensitive of the living conditions of a lot of people in the world. But this is how I feel right now, and you don't have to read it.

But I feel really bad for lacking the self control to stop myself from binge eating. Earlier this morning, I made a resolve to go on a cleanse. No, I'm not on a weight loss crash diet. I want to go on a cleanse because I heard it does wonders for the digestive system.

By 4 pm, I was stuffing my face with french fries.

This isn't the first time I failed at going on a cleanse. I've attempted it several times before, but I keep giving up. I lack the self-control to stop myself from stuffing my face with food. For dinner, I thought of saving up a few bucks by going on a budget meal. But when I went to Pizza Hut, the budget meal I wanted wasn't available, so I ordered soup, thinking, hey, I'll save some bucks if I just order soup. Except after ordering soup, I had, like, a personal sized pizza too. Which is a lot of baked bread and bacon and cheese, and totally defeats the purpose of a.) the budget dinner, and b.) the cleanse. I ended up spending more than twice what I was supposed to spend to save up on the little cash I had left until payday.

My friend Denis said it's because I have an emptiness in my heart that I'm trying to fill with food. I think he's right, that cheeky bastard. Since I seem to have no control over my lovelife, and that people leave me and I can't stop them from doing so, I exercise control over the one thing I still have control over: my consumption of food.

So I eat. I consume. I devour. Because I may not be attractive enough to pique the interest of someone who'd take me out to dinner, but I am so fucking gonna eat my way through this motherfucking pizza.

But I'm afraid that's just one more thing that I'm losing control over. I can't even control my food intake. I can't control anything.

I think I'm losing it.

I Am a Filthy Bacon Hoe

I've been struggling with obesity for the longest time, and I'm not just talking about fat people getting in my way. I'm talking about being overweight, having a BMI of more than 25. It's an actual condition that incapacitates me from achieving my dreams, and it's a hurdle that I need to overcome to reach happiness.

I've always wanted to go on a diet. To have that discipline of inflicting famine upon myself. It would be wonderful if I have the willpower to stay famished. After all, didn't Steve Jobs himself advised us on the virtue of staying hungry?

Anyway, I've been dreaming of having washboard abs for the longest time now, and I keep making excuses. Like, I'm too tired from work to push myself hard in the gym, blah, blah, blah. But the truth is hard: I'm fat because I'm a voracious eater.

So, since yesterday, I made a pact with myself to watch what I eat. I need to monitor my caloric intake, and be conscious of my consumption.

But this morning, after working out at the gym, I felt a compulsion so strong that it defeated me, and I succumbed to it.

My mind's eye pictured this: BACON, laying on top of SPAM, while CHEESE melted on them. It's the UNHOLY TRINITY OF BREAKFAST, and it was waiting for me a couple of yards away at the nearby Burger King.

BACON. SPAM. CHEESE. For breakfast. How could anything go wrong? It's the perfect way to start the day.

And it means I'll be taking a thousand crunches back from my goal.

It's sad, this feeling of defeat. This dirty feeling of weakness. This shame for submission to a force stronger than my own will. I am conquered by Bacon, owned by Spam, enslaved by Cheese. I am a loyal subject of the Burger King. It makes me feel less of a warrior, and more of a... a filthy bacon whore.

I need professional help from this addiction.

At Chili's Greenbelt

Met up with the NJDC last night. We're starting to feel more and more like a multi-cam sitcom barkada, getting the same booth every week, with the blocking geared at one camera. We all got Santa Fe steaks, because Cam-b wanted one. We downed two pitchers of much deserved strawberry mango margarita, and played Pinoy Henyo for an hour or so. It was the nerdiest game ever played of Pinoy Henyo, what with several contentions and qualified yeses, and noes. Also, learned something new about Cessna planes. Which, along with my new knowledge of obstetrics and pediatrics nutrition, would come pretty helpful, if ever I find myself pregnant on a private plane.

These are the photos.

No Judgment Dinner Club

This is the NJDC. That's me, Jordan, Cam-B, and Cielly. We are the No Judgment Dinner Club. Because we dine with no judgment. Which I still insist should go both ways: there should be no judgment for the guy who stays away from the rice because he's on a strict high protein low carb diet. But apparently, that's not on the agenda.

Last Friday, it was Dampa in Libis again. We were deciding on whether Dampa or someplace in Makati, and Dampa won by luck of the draw. Seriously. Cam-b tore up little pieces of paper, and drew the name of the place.

I must admit, the buttered shrimp this time around is much tastier. Last time we were there, they came out bland and watery. The tempura was amazing as well. Damn, just remembering those make me hungry now.

Also, we go way back. Eating has always been our thing.

That's us, eating out in Binondo.

Not Done at All

There's a snag in my weight loss program. I'm at the point where I'm ready to commit to cutting down my carbs intake, so I can consume more protein for muscle building and repair.

But I have a day job, and the food place where people go to for lunch is a carinderia that doesn't really cater to my needs. It's pretty OK for a carinderia, the food's OK, there's enough choices everyday. But they're mostly fried, or sauced up that they can only be eaten with lots of rice.

So, I'm forced to look for other places to eat. Like this inasal place nearby. Roast chicken is good, it's high in protein. It's also expensive to keep eating roast chicken for lunch. The other options for lunch are fast food (I work near Morato), which would hurt my budget and my diet plans WORSE.

Men's Health and other fitness experts recommend the same thing: For anyone dedicated enough to commit to a strict high protein low carbs diet, LEARN TO COOK.

My friend Neil cooks his own food, and that's why he looks like the Baby Hulk (which sounds like an amazing idea for a Marvel franchise). He steams chicken breasts everyday, seasoned with pepper and salt, and eaten with steamed camote (sweet potatoes).

Confession time. I know I may come off as perfect, and what with me being able to do basically everything, but I am not perfect. I can't cook.

Technically, I can learn to cook. There was a time when I saw myself experimenting in the kitchen, and by that, I don't mean sexually, with a stranger on the kitchen floor, but actually whipping up a dish.

But, really. I have a day job, I go to the gym, I'm working on two novels simultaneously, and I do my own laundry. I can't, by any sane amount of reason, squeeze in an extra hour in my life to prepare my own food. I can't invest in a steamer, do weekly grocery shopping for chicken breasts and fish fillet, wake an extra hour early (or stay an extra hour late) to prepare my food for the next day. That's where I'll draw the line. I can't do that, I won't do that, I refuse to prepare my own food.

Which sucks. So I'm stuck with eating what's easily bought. Ugh. I hate this.