I’ve been a masochistic for the past 3 hours. Inflicting painful self torture upon my growling stomach. I’ve been surfing pictures of drool-worthy food on Pinterest, bookmarking recipes, constantly reminding myself of what I can’t eat. A reason being my home kitchen closes after 8pm. Bigger reason being that I can’t cook. I know. Shameful. *hides quietly in corner*
I. Love. Food. I. Love. Eating.
Love is really an understatement. My life has been known to revolve around my stomach. I don’t snack, but chow down during meal times. I also have a confession that may make you hate me, even without knowing me (I think that will actually add onto the hatred). I’m one of those annoying, almost-gravity-defying people, who can pretty much eat twice my own body weight without gaining a single pound. I’m 163cm/5″4 and weigh 45kg/100lbs. My biggest feat (that I can remember) is eating 2 appetisers, followed by a 22oz steak (all meat, no bone), and having room for dessert (which I didn’t order because I had begun to freak myself out). I have eaten to the point of throwing up. Twice. Science says I have high metabolism. N is convinced I have worms. The worm theory doesn’t really scare me. I don’t get sick, I feel fine, nothing seems to be wrong with me health-wise (okay, except for high cholesterol). We seem to have a endosymbiotic relationship. Happy worms = Happy P 🙂
If you picture a heat-sensing missile searching and locking onto its target. That’s me when I’m near food. I have to find the biggest/yummiest/fullest/perfect piece. I’m not rude when it comes to food though. My muscles don’t reflex immediately to grab it (my parents have brought me up with manners). I am a civil eater. Although my friends and my love know to clear the path for me. It takes a lot for, and out of me to share. When I offer my Dad something, his first reaction is to say, “you’re either full or it’s not good.” It’s sad, but true. It’s more often the latter.
I haven’t always been a happy eater. My parents will be the first to testify my aversion to food when younger. They have to find ways to manipulate me to eat. Seems like I am more than making up for all those meals now 😉
(Just in case I need to declare this somewhere: I don’t own any of these images, and got them all from Pinterest)