A few days ago I was shopping for groceries when these guys from Nestlé approached me and asked me if I wanted to take their nutritional risk assessment so I agreed thinking that they'd only want me to take a very quick survey. Suddenly the lady I was talking to introduced me to a nurse who started measuring my weight, height, and blood pressure (with the appropriate instruments of course). I can disclose the findings here but I'd rather keep it confidential because fuck yeah I'm guilty.

I have learned that one's waistline is related to his/her BMI! What are the odds? It was not included in the BMI calculation though-- waistline standards were set in relation to one's height and weight. So anyway I've scored "normal" on their tests but I still have to watch my figure since my waistline dictates that I am only four inches away from health risks.

Lately, however, there came circumstances that made me choose to pick the unhealthy side instead. I will never ever trade the pleasure of eating for anything, so fuck da police health nazis.

Yesterday, Paolo decided to sleep over at my apartment. We decided to have dinner at KFC so he got each of us an order of Hotshots plus extra rice (hence two cups of rice each). Why the extra rice, you ask? Recently we have been arguing over who's really the macho-er one between us two, and, well, as the old saying goes (or was it even that old of a saying...)-- "Ang tunay macho ay laging may extra rice" (apparently I've just replaced "ang tunay na lalake" with "ang tunay na macho" since lalake's not quite applicable to me-- I have no dick okay). So I let myself pig out and honestly that was the first time in a long time (by long time I mean two weeks) I felt so fucking full. I also had to break my long-running fast on softdrinks because I forgot to tell him that I usually stick to drinking water whenever I eat out so he got me a Sprite-- he does not know anything about my eating habits yet since that was just only the fourth time we ate out together.

In the morning (today), he made tuna omelette for breakfast. He asked me if I would want rice with it but I was not accustomed to having rice for breakfast whenever I'm out of Rizal but I went for it anyway because I am so fucking macho. This time however I only had one cup of rice (he had two but that does not mean I already admit defeat okay).

Once I'm back in Rizal naman, I took a five-hour nap (glutton na nga sloth pa, sinong 'di tataba?). Mum (feeling British na naman ako as usual) woke me up because she needs someone to accompany her to her grocery shopping. Jill and I went with her knowing that there'd be binging opportunities because that was always the case with our mother. Everything, of course, went as expected. She treated us to Tokyo Tokyo. Jill had Pork Tonkatsu and my mum and I shared this Fried Chicken Karaage / Prawn & Vegetable Tempura meal for two even though I was fucking dying to try out their Godzilla Burger. Mum did not allow me to because of health concerns. Boriiiing. Tokyo Tokyo did not disappoint. We went grocery shopping later with puffed out tummies. Insert red iced tea cheers here.

I still have to find out if we'd still celebrate pizza day tomorrow. I just hope we do because we all know that an order of any cheesy chow can brighten up one's day-- or in my case, week.

Overall, I'd blame Paolo and the macho manifesto for having me bade adieu to good health and welcome a protracting waistline instead. Mum's treating us doesn't have anything to do with my bloating since it's normal for her to fatten us every week.

So bye I have to go now because dinner's ready. Happy eating binging!