Quick update…FAME!
Hoola!
I just watched Fame with Eron, and it was wonderful! Had fun grabbing his ass :P
Then we sat down at Burger King and talked… as usual, we were gossiping, bitching, and… well, just talking. Walked around Causeway Point before that., and he cruised off after that.
Had some Burger King after a long time. Really dislike the taste of processed food, so it looksl ike it’s back to clean food for me! Anyways, I had better go now…Lav’s on the phone…I’m currently in her pocket, you know?! As in, she’s in the loo and she put her phone in her pocket after saying, “Eh hold on ah, I’m going to the toilet…will put you in my pocket!” Hahahaha…
OH SHE’S TALKING NOW AND I HAD NO IDEA WHAT SHE HAS BEEN SAYING THE PAST FEW SECONDS LOL!!! Madness.
Ammo store/IC
It’s my first day back at work and I’m already one tired moo. I guess the big blow came when I was told that I was going to be trained to take over the ammo store, and I have just four days to learn the ropes before my upper study goes for his basic military training and completes his national service. Poor ventilation, heavy loads, mind-numbing work, frustrating company… I tried asking for a transfer, but was told that rarely do they get people as dependable and capable as me and hence cannot let me go (not sure if this was said just to pacify me, but there are loads of “kengsters” in my camp…). But now that I think of it, I can’t wait to impress everyone by working my ass off and turning the store into something respectable. And I’m willing to work anywhere that the government needs me to. Everyone at camp has been really nice, and the organisation’s paying for my expensive medical fees, so this is the least I can do.
I also found out that the hamper that was sent to the hospital for me was actually T’s work, and he said he spend quite some time choosing a suitable, nice one for me. I felt really bad when he said that because I thought the hamper was a PR gesture devoid of emotion, and decided to leave it with the nurses. :( It cost $80, too…. I truly am a horrible person.
Also found out that others have to take over my clerk duty stints because I’m not allowed to stay in and have been told not to do 24-hour duties. Felt guilty and voiced out that I’d like to do the duties, but to no avail… I fear people are going to think of me as a “chao keng” soldier.
Sometimes I envy the “kengsters”, because they seem to be devoid of guilt and seem to enjoy playing the system. Sometimes they get prized vocations, too.
I felt so down that I began texting random people. Sometimes I do things without thinking, especially when I can no longer fall back on my coping mechanism. I admit the urges to exercise etc. are getting stronger.
Had dinner with Sivaraj just now. Meeting him was wonderful, as usual. The food was bad (processed Kimchi noodles, Coke Light and vanilla-flavoured Boost Plus) and I wanted to cry for some reason, but I guess being with him made it easier? Nutter tried bossing me around because, as a Private, he’s senior to me in terms of rank (I’m a mere Recruit)…and kept telling me off over the way I carried my bag! Apparently I tote it around like a power bitch. Then I went over to say hi to Eron who happened to be at Lot 1, and went on the train with Sivaraj.
Went home, struggled to finish the remaining Boost Plus by putting in ice and diluting it with cold water, popped on Madonna’s “Hard Candy” album, and now I’m writing this! :)
Hopefully I’ll watch “Fame” tomorrow…
Love,
Sujith
My berry macademia cake!
Singapore has some red haze, ala Sydney!
My fave sweater (doesn't fit though!)
Thursday.
As I made my way to SGH to see the dietitian, I felt like the ugliest person on Earth. I proceeded to cover myself with my *sweater (hoodie and all) and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible.
*Some people have questioned me on why I wear this particular sweater, so here’s a brief explanation: I bought this when I was working in Sydney. My date said it looked good on me, and that was good enough to seal the deal! This jacket has accompanied me to my Fitness First personal training sessions, kept me warm, covered me up when I felt hideous, etc.. and it has followed me through some pretty intense and wonderful lovemaking sessions. It’s just really special, which is why I still wear it though it no longer fits me (it’s too big now) and though some of the elastic has deteriorated.
Ry spoke to me today about my PES (Physical Employment Status) level. I’m seeing things in a new light now… I mean, the “organisation” declared my sexuality against my wishes (even though they said I didn’t have to declare if I didn’t want to) making it impossible for me to be anything above a corporal, so it’d make no sense to fight hard for a status upgrade and have to redo basic training and all that jazz. He talked a bit about the medical board, and it made so much sense.
The psychotherapist said she liked the muffins I made! She agreed that it was a little moist, probably ‘cos I was in a rush to get my mittens in the oven!
The appointment with the dietitian was nothing spectacular. I got TSL - the one who blabbed to the team that I was overexercising even after I was banned by the medical officer (she promised not to tell anyone as long as I stuck to my diet). I’m thankful she did what she did, actually, because it forced me to come out in the open sooner. She kept asking me if there was anything else I wanted to bring up, and I was wondering if she was expecting me to slime her, but all I wanted to do was thank her for caring. So now I’m on two Resource 2.0s…or three Ensure Plus packs. I bought one of the former to try out the taste, and 5 more Ensure Plus packs from the pharmacy…will be making a trip down to the hospital soon to stock up on my waning supply! Supplements are expensive shiat!
Then it was lunch with Eron at Sakura, City Hall! Bitch texted me something really triggering: “Get that huge ass of urs here soon, obese! Like OBEASE! Stamped on your head! like like totall” (sic). He meant it as a joke and honestly I thought it was quite funny (though it made me want to skip lunch) ‘cos I imagined we were black, nigga sisters in a fight. Had 1 popiah and Ensure Plus for lunch, and then went to TMC to check out their courses. Eron had a hard-on after seeing some tight ass on the street, and used me to cover his folly! On the bus home, my sweater slipped and he saw my wrist, which made him exclaim, “Oh my god, you’re…skinny eh!! You slimmed down a lot!!! All bones!” I was, of course, internally pleased.
Had sweetcorn cream bun for snack, and 2 slices of bread + Ensure Plus + scrambled egg for tea. Was glad to come home because I hated showing myself to the world today. Have to go back to camp tomorrow…..
Oh my, dad’s back and is asking me to search for something on the net…..so wanna be by myself right now, but ah wells! Gotta run!
-Sujith
Looking up?
G’day again…
Returned to the hospital after a 10-day MC.
It was really nice catching up with C (the BFG), E and QY yesterday while I waited for my afternoon appointment with Dr Lee. I’m happy C’s taking things in her stride…and I can’t wait to see her become the wonderful girl she undoubtedly is and would undoubtedly become. E’s family kept looking over and discussed me in hushed tones (I’m hot property, I know! :p), and QY was, as usual, so amazingly…pure and searingly beautiful. Her beau, Mr Superman, rushed off before I could say hi! Caught sight of hot mama S walking beside Ry (who was as saucy as usual…heh heh), and was so intimidated by her (I don’t know why…she’s perfectly nice and seems so fun!!) that I turned away before waving :(. Maybe it’s ‘cos she’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met in real life, or maybe it’s ‘cos a part of me would kill to have her attributes? Either way, I had better grow some cajones, pronto.
Also struck up a conversation with this complete stranger who turned out to be really nice. We talked about our medical conditions and bitched about Ca, the front desk lady. Ca seemed rather nice to me (not her usual surly self), but this lady said she’s going to complain to the public affairs office in writing because “it’s just not right that someone can hold such dominance”. Hm…
Anyway, there’s this physiotherapist with a tight bum and nice arms that I frequently see around the centre. I wonder if he’s the Eric that Ry told me about? Thing is, whenever we look at each other it’s awkward, till he asked (very nicely), “Erm…do you have an appointment here?” . OMG, was I too obvious in checking him out?!?! Perhaps he could sense I was raping him with my eyes every time he walked by… My session with Evelyn in the morning went rather well. I decided to ditch the “everything’s okay” sheen and was a little more honest. I told her something I usually keep to myself - something about how I used to numb myself by sleeping around - and she didn’t seem to flinch or whatever. She didn’t scold me when I told her that having Eddie with me gave me power and made me achieve more than I ever had in life. She helped me find ways where I could put my perfectionist streak to good use… We talked a bit about my situation in camp too… I can’t quite go into specifics here because word has it that the organisation keeps close tabs on servicemen’s blogs.
The session with Dr Lee was jolly. I remarked that I was making a “super-fast recovery” in terms of weight gain, and she said that it’s usually like that post-hospitalisation and then goes into a series of dips and rises. Dr Lee’s super, super cool…she’s smart, beautiful, and knows army lingo! I can see she’s really trying to connect…I almost feel bad for calling her tactless right in her face. Though being surrounded by such intelligent people makes me feel worthless sometimes… oh we talked a bit about how I feel so bad that people may think I’m malingering and how I want to stay in camp instead of going back home where it’s about food all the time… I just hope that I can negotiate the stuff Dr Lee wrote in the letter to my commander by way of semantics. She suggested that I be removed from 24-hour guard duties, but I’ve never done such duties, which are different from 24-hour duty clerk duties…so maybe I find a way to volunteer for more duty clerk duties or something! Feel really bad over the long leave of absence… Text-messaged my commander and RQ to update them on when I’ll be coming back… I feel like I’m pissing them off with my constant “excuses”… it’s so embarrassing.
I truly hope both ladies enjoy the cupcakes I baked.
They don’t look too appetising but taste interesting! Pro-ana Eron sent me a triggering message on Facebook… it said: “sujith.. please ah please ah.. u lose another 7kg, i’ll buy a new laptop.. i wanna see the bones stick out ah!” I won’t lie - it was really tempting to skip the rest of my meals for the day to reach my target of 39 (I miss my bone definition), but after hearing about QY’s struggles with supplements etc., I decided that being selfish isn’t…fair. Looks like I’ve got to work on silencing such “encouragement”. Perhaps I can work towards reaching 61, and pack on some muscle?
Not looking forward to medical nutrition therapy later… I haven’t exactly been following the diet plan.
And oh, I chose to go to camp tomorrow (Friday) instead of next Monday…I’d like to clear off everything this week before a new week begins. Ah wells…till later! :)
Love,
Me
Random pictures of stuff I put into my mouth the past few days! Pics 1-4 document how my random boiled herbal chicken recipe went! The birthday cake’s my brother’s (who celebrated his 19th on the 16th!), the organic cinnamon cereal is doused with iced Ensure Plus (yum!), etc., etc….
A pretty interesting week where I ate healthily (I think), considerably more organically, and where I experimented with stuff.
Will be making cupcakes and cake later on…I hope no one would be home since I hate working with eyes behind me!! :D
Snarky Sharky.
It’s frustrating that almost everything at home since my discharge has been about food and my mood.
When know-it-all elder bro keeps making remarks such as “Oh, once he takes his medication he’ll be fine” or “Didn’t take your medication yet, right?”, I feel the muscles on my face tighten. Whoever gave him the right to think of himself as a greater person just because I’m on antidepressants? Worse still, he made the first comment in front of dad this morning (dad still thinks I take medicine for digestion…didn’t tell him I’m on Prozac because he can be very insensitive about it). Just a couple of days ago, when dad asked what I was reading (this book called “Boys get anorexia too”), I said it was a storybook, but Mr Know-It-All ratted me out and said it was an “anorexia self-help book”. Bugger.
The only thing mom ever talks about is my food intake. Every time she spots me, she always stares and keeps trying to force food on me, even though my sister and younger brother are thinner and lighter than I am. Once, she suddenly put her fingers on my tummy area to feel for fat around my body before I shook her off. Then she said she would tell the docs all about my food habits, etc.
If anything, this whole experience has been a great lesson on empathy. I now know what not to do, which I hope brings me closer to realising what to do.
I’ve been trying to put on weight to avoid possible rehospitalisation. Actually, going to hospital isn’t all that bad - it’s quite pleasant, really, since everything’s taken care off and the stressors are removed - but the prospect of going through the programme is just plain scary because, for some reason, I’m intimidated by the girls in the group and I feel like I’m barging into someone else’s group. Strange, really, since I usually click well with the female species.
There’re so many things for me to work on, many aspects of me to improve and develop, but if things still lie in limbo and with all this unneeded drama taking place…
Read “Skinny Boy”, a book by this guy who survived an eating disorder. There are quite a few similarities.
All this feels weird, somehow. I don’t even know what I’m saying sometimes!
Sujith.
"My Big Fat Eating Disorder". What it's not about...and what it is. »
Source: http://www.mentalnurse.org.uk/2007/08/my-big-fat-eating-disorder/
“…this is not about logic. This is not about doing the right things like eating less or exercising more. This is not about being sensible or healthy or a shining example of mental health. This is not Jamie Oliver and his organic pig testicles.
This is not about looking good on the beach or wanting to be a supermodel. This is not about wanting the cute guy in the coffee shop to beg for your telephone number. This is not about sliding a pair of skinny jeans over your hipbones and laughing all the way to the check out till.
This is not about wanting attention until complete strangers force feed you Black Forest Gateau and siphon double cream into your skinny latte. It is not about deliberately pissing off the nurses by hiding your peas under your fork and stashing butter in the bed pans. It is not about starving for all the children in Africa. It is not about reading the magazines and pining for the Body Mass Index of Paris Hilton’s pet Chihuahua. This is not a conspiracy created by the Patriarchal system to oppress women.
This is about having the self-esteem of a gnat’s arse. This is the polite way of committing suicide. This is about having no life because it’s impossible to order a bowl of dry cereal in a restaurant and ask them to hold the raisins. This is about weighing pasta, cereal, raisins and anything that passes your lips, including toothpaste. This is about secrets and lies and shame. This is about not wanting to admit that you need to eat. That you deserve to live.
This is about being scared. This is about being terrified. Of everything.
This is about control. This is about sex. This is about putting relationships on hold until your thighs don’t meet in the middle and by then you have no libido anyway. This is about hiding under layers of clothing that are mostly black. This is about “Please don’t look at me and cover all the mirrors with black crepe.” This is about avoiding the camera, even at your sister’s wedding. This is about intense self hatred.
This is about needing so much that you can’t stand it. This is about having emotions that bubble up and spill out all over the carpet and stink up the whole house. This is about having too many choices and too much pressure and isn’t it easier just to keep it simple and obsess about the amount of calories in a small cantaloupe? Instead of making big scary choices that might crush you to a pulp?
This is about wanting to be safe. This is about wanting to curl up in a nutshell like Thumbelina and ignore the big bad world that’s too noisy and dangerous and can’t be trusted. This is about not trusting anyone and relying on food (or lack of) to give you an all enveloping comfort blanket when the medication bloats you up like a corpse in a river.
This is about really crappy coping methods. This is about making a choice that will quite possibly kill you. This is about failed relationships, waiting lists, devastated families, waiting lists, becoming vegetarian, becoming vegan, becoming lactose intolerant, developing a wheat allergy and more waiting lists. This is about infertility, rotten teeth, and hollow bones. This is about cardiac arrest in a shopping centre. This is about being sick. This is about not being sick enough. This is about finally being sick enough for a bed in a unit until you drop down dead and you get a mention in the local paper for being such a model student.
This is not about food.”
Dreams
I’ve had many dreams and ambitions.
I strongly wanted to be a doctor (specifically, a gynaecologist) when I was a child. That dream hasn’t completely died, though it’s largely impossible because of my lack of aptitude in science, math, and courage (can’t bear cutting people up etc.).
Then I wanted to be a journalist after first visiting the Straits Times’ newsroom when I was 10. I became one 10 years later, as an intern.
I’ve thought of becoming a nurse (was going to sign up for it if I didn’t get into the mass communication programme), psychologist (was intending to take the Advanced Placement Psychology exam, but kept procrastinating), teacher (was a substitute), activist (worked for a bit with Greenpeace and participated in a couple of events), writer (authored a chapbook which was amateurish and nauseating), music producer (have been toying around with recording), fashion designer (can’t draw!), chef (I cook occasionally and have had many failed experiments), dancer (joined a club but left my last session crying), singer (was in a couple of school musicals, but have since lost the ability to sing well), dietitian (can’t do science for nuts), musician (studied classical guitar, but failed miserably), politician (too many skeletons in my closet), scientist (dropped out of science school after a year), curriculum planner/advisor/principal, filmmaker, businessman, actor, etc.
I’ve spent so much time researching into what it takes to become any of the above, that now I’m not quite sure what I really, really want to be. I know I want to be involved in human rights, but I know there’ll always be a part of me that wouldn’t let go of the fact that I’m not a doctor, fashion designer or a writer.
Letting go and accepting the truth is rather challenging and something I have to learn. I have to learn to deal with the fact that I can’t always be the best at what I do, or want to do.
I can’t be the smartest, the most muscular, the thinnest, the most fashionable all at once, can I? I ain’t no Georgia Lee! (Cheap shot, lol! But it’s all love…) :p
I don’t know how I’ll be in five years. Five years ago, if you had asked me if I’d have imagined my life to be the way it was today, I’d have given a dead-on no. I expected to be a science graduate, but I’m really glad with how things have turned out. Except, of course, the drama that I’m facing now, but I guess I’ll learn something from this.
Ancora Imparo. I am still learning.
So come unravel my life with me, and I’ll be beside you, celebrating your every victory.
Love,
Sujith.
