The Scales Don't Lie

Today, after weeks of denial, I finally faced one of my greatest fears - the weighing scale. I've been neglecting my one-year-old diet and exercise regimen (consisting mostly of twice weekly jogs along Roxas Boulevard and moderate food intake) since September this year. After losing 8 kilos since early 2010, I've vowed to never exceed my normal body mass index (BMI) again. However, due to sheer carelessness and my inertia that seems to be certainly heading towards slothdom, it's been several months since I've completely lost my resolve to be healthy. I've stopped looking at the scales, however, citing the "what-you-don't-know-won't-hurt-you" clause in my book of personal laws.

This morning, I woke up feeling bloated and heavy. I looked at myself in the mirror and observed a resurrection of my ugly belly fat and lovehandles (which were never lost, just became a bit more trimmed). My recent attack of hypersensitivity to jellyfish stings which I got from my recent trip to Puerto Galera made me look even uglier. I had welts, scratch marks, and wheals all over my body. I found myself really disgusting that I almost vomited. And then the clincher moment came. I was supposed to wear my Cardiology shirt for a dance number. I tried but it just wouldn't fit me anymore.

And so, full of self-loathing, I finally decided to check my weight. Lo and behold (but not surprisingly), I weighed 3 kgs more than my weight in November this year. This is 5 kgs more than my weight exactly a year ago when I finally achieved my normal BMI. After months of dieting and running by the bay, I'm almost back to my old weight. More than one year if hard work now brought to waste.

I tried to justify my rapid and rather shocking weight gain, conjured up reasons that might have aggravated the sudden change of the scales. Since my allergic attack, I've been self-medicating on steroids, but only for a few days. As a doctor, I know that even a few days of high-dose steroids won't give me 3 kgs. Yes, this could be PMS. I'm nearing my period and this may be the stage of water retention. But still, 3 kgs is just too much to be simply attributed to PMS. Not even to constipation. Or the weight of the jeans I was wearing when I weighed myself.

The simple truth has to be faced. It's the lechon, the countless bags of chips, the bars of chocolate, the plates of rice, the slices of cake, the slabs of meat, the buffet breakfasts, the tubs of ice cream that I mindlessly consumed the past 3 months. If only I could vomit them all out now, I would. But of course, there's the steroids, the PMS and the constipation.

If only anorexic is something I could will myself to be. I'm already conditioning my mind to be an anorexic now. Think Victoria Secret models. Think Miss Universe. Think America's Next Top Model.

I'm not eating. Starting tomorrow.