The Starch-Depression Factor

It was not the simplest thing in the world to do, but somehow, doing it helped loosen me up about it in general.

Get your mind out of the gutter! I'm talking about starches!

You see, i kind of realized that the starch-free diet i'm doing prones to tip me over the depressed edge into bingeing behavior. My mood is just a monotonous low and i get blinding headaches when i cut them out totally. I didn't really put the connection together until i reintroduced starches (starting with the safer feeling All-Bran Extra Fibre cereal!) did i see an improvement in my mood. Ok, i had to deal with the stupid 'run for toilet, i'm gonna rip a FART! syndrome' of a suddenly increased fibre intake, but it ended surprisingly quickly over the 2 days.

THEORETICALLY, i knew that a low-starch diet would cause a depressed mood (it's supposed to have been scientifically proven). I just never thought the effect would be THAT severe until i felt the difference in myself. Then you look back at the time when you went without starches in your diet, and you go WHOA, i'm DEFINITELY much more down at that time!

It's not just the crankiness of going starch free which gets to me. When you're limiting your starches, the overall carbohydrate total goes down too (unless you're going on a MASSIVE fruit binge). And those dieticians got their facts right when they say that you need your carbs for energy. I can barely do my weight training (and can't even THINK of doing my cardio) when i'm doing a carb-free diet.

Still, there exists a fear (you might call it an irrational one) that having my starches in combination with ANY amount of fat would cause fat storage. Chalk it up to obsessive reading of low-carbohydrate diets. Yes, Dr Atkins, i'm LOOKING at YOU!

The Lord of the Rings

Hey, it's one of the greatest fantasy books ever written. And how many fantasy books you know had been made into blockbuster movies? Not a whole lot, right? So, it SHOULD be a good read... Until you poke your nose into the book.

I heard of the Lord of the Rings from my trusty InQuest magazine, when they were going nuts about a movie adaptation of it coming up about 2 years in the future. And loads of (admittedly geeky) people raved about the book, so i decided to pick it up from the bookshop on the whim when i saw it.

Boy, at 1st glance, you would probably have fainted. It's a massively thick tome (i got the complete version with the Fellowship of the Ring, the Two Towers and the Return of the King all bound together in a single volume) and the words are DAMN SMALL can!

I tried to read it. I truly did. But it's pretty deep stuff, and i couldn't really make a head or tail out of it. What made it worse is that Tolkien (the author) loved a meandering kind of prose and can spend 2 DARNED PAGES describing something as mundane as a meadow!

I rightly wondered how is it supposed to be a good read. Only after watching the movies and heading back to the books did it make much sense, though it felt like loads of hard work for just a fair bit of enjoyment.

The truly awe inspiring part of the book is the feeling of grandeur which Tolkien evokes. Middle-Earth (the place the story is set in!) has a sense of deep history and hidden secrets about it, and the trilogy barely even began to scratch the surface of Middle-Earth's rich history. It just makes me want to go all geek out and delve into a library at Minas Tirith (props if you know where that is!) and check the history books out!

The Lord of the Rings may superficially be like Harry Potter (both deal with fantasy), but that's only because Gandalf and the Hogwarts people wear pointy hats. In truth, it's a total different 'taste' of fantasy altogether. Perhaps you might dislike it, or perhaps you would walk away with a sense of wonder after finishing the book.

Last word of encouragement: don't worry, the traipsing thru the forest in the 1st half of the Fellowship of the Ring is the only REALLY blathery bit of the book. Even the makers of the movie decided to snip that bit, or else the audience would be fast asleep 30 minutes into the movie.

The Exercise Goal

What the heck am i trying to accomplish? No, that's not a trick question; it's something which caught me flat footed and asked by Dr Chew (a sports management physician i saw). To me, exercise is just something i HAD to do if i don't want to get fat. In other words, i'm driven to pound away at a proverbial treadmill without a goal in mind; i'm motivated by avoidance (to be as far away from being fat as possible) as opposed to aiming for something.

THAT question got me wondering and going about setting my priorities about exercise right. No matter what my eating disorder might say about my physique, a quick check with friends who are brutally honest with me reveals that i'm not fat or obese or whatever. And being honest with myself when setting an exercise goal helped too. No point setting a goal which is all politically correct and everything, if it's not what i truly want.

I'm motivated to exercise for my looks. Ok, you can all me a vainpot now! Health and performance, blah blah blah, they don't interest me. I'm interested in looking the best i can. And having a defined goal went a long way in determining my current regime. For example, there is no point in just running my ass off if what i want is an upper body that can carry off a tank top!

Having a goal in mind is instrumental. Without a goal, it's just like running like mad on a treadmill. Sure, you're putting in a lot of effort, but you're not fucking getting anywhere except bounce up and down on the same piece of real estate! Having an exercise goal is one of the most important things i did in establishing WHY i exercise, and in trashing much of the compulsive behaviors (in that i see the reason why i have to exercise, as opposed to exercising just so because it's one of the things i MUST do every day).

This might sound cheesy, but it helped in my goal setting.

SMART=specific, measurable, achievable, reasonable, timed (i stole the SMART thing from a really good book i found, Weight Training for Dummies).

Specific: If you're having a tough time with consistent workouts, set a specific goal that you want to achieve that isn't too extreme. For example, set a specific goal to go thru your weight-training program each week.

Measurable: A measurable goal is one that you can objectively determine whether or not your met the goal. For example, make a measurable goal be to train at least 2 times per week for at least 25 minutes per session.

Achievable: If you've been having a hard time finding a spare hour to train, don't plan to do a 1 hour workout. Instead, set a more achievable goal for your schedule such as 2 25 minute workouts.

Reasonable: If you're having a tough time training twice a week, don't set a goal to train 3 times a week. First, master finding time to train twice a week and build from there. If even 2 times a week is tough, start out with a goal of once a week and build from there. Remember, you don't have to achieve your fitness goals all in the 1st month.

Timed: Give yourself a set time to meet your goal. For example, if you set the goal of training at least 2 times per week for a minimum of 25 minutes per session, decide that you want to achieve this over a 2 month period. If 2 months seems too long to you, start with a goal of 1 month.

Studies tell us that it takes about 8 weeks of doing a new behavior to create a new habit. Know that after you've passed the 1st 8 weeks of consistent training, you're well on your way to successfully achieving your goals and maintaining a lifetime of fitness.

Keep in mind that life happens. If you fall off track, don't waste precious time beating yourself up with negative thoughts. Simply assess what interfered with your regular training, benefit from the experience, and get right back into your program. As the ancient Chinese saying goes, "The journey of 10000 miles begins with a single step." This wisdom is applicable to your training. Just keep putting 1 foot in front of the other and believe in yourself.

By the way, take a big reality check: Don't expect to look like the sculpted, fat-free people who sell weight training products on TV infomercials or magazine ads. Many of these models have unusual genetics, have taken drugs, and/or have undergone liposuction and added implants to achieve their looks (in addition to being digitally enhanced by professional film producers). In fact, among men, chest or pec and calf implants are popular, while more and more women are getting butt implants. Mentioning this phenomenon is not to advocate plastic surgery. This is simply to let you know that most people who have bodies that look a little too perfect are likely to have achieved that look thru unnatural means. So don't set yourself up for failure before you begin by trying to look like a TV or magazine model by using natural methods. It's impossible. Simply aim to be your best you.

-Weight Training for Dummies

My Happy Ending

Some people find it comforting to have love-sicky music on after breaking up. Me? I figure i'd go for something more rough and rebellious.

I've loved Avril Lavigne since her 1st album. And somehow, My Happy Ending seemed weirdly appropriate for my anthem of the day.



PS: It's so dumb that i'm telling myself to get over it, but my mind and soul doesn't seem to be able to GET OVER being unceremoniously dumped. I promise, PROMISE (see, my fingers AND TOES ain't crossed!) that this would be the last post to the horrid event!

The Karmic Payback Factor

I thought that we were able to last forever,
go thru every shit the world throws at us together,
weather things people said were impossible,
just be together for time immaterial.

It's hard to accept that when reality interrupts,
makes the 2 of us part and grow up,
chuck the other as a relic of the past,
the emotions growing cold and tough.

I bought into the whole fairy-tale ending,
of happily ever after and castles and bling,
in stories the princesses don't go off on a fling,
neither do they raid the fridge in a binge.

You can tell that i'm kind of emotional and bitter. Oh well. Chalk it up to a heartbreak which wasn't all that unexpected, anyway. The relationship had been zooming on a downhill anyway, and the sooner it happened, the better. I feel bad that i'm the one who was responsible for starting the cracks, since i have the eating disorder and all, not to mention being monogamy-averse. I was unfaithful and everything. Someone bite me.

I guess i shouldn't be pissed with anyone. It's karma, after all. I broke the Other Person's heart, and in time, whatever i set into motion would come back to bite me in my (ample) ass. In a weird way, i miss having a raging battlefield of quarrels. It's worse when the war ceases and both sides grow cold, indifferent, to each other. Better ANY emotion felt than no emotions at all.

I'm not the nicest bitch around the neighborhood today. Do not pet. Do not provoke. Remember to get your rabies, tetanus and whatever shots. Most of all, do NOT feed.

The Rice Factor

One irritating thing about being Chinese (or Asian, for that matter): RICE!!!

For Chinese (or is it Chinese-eses?), rice is almost synonymous with a meal (like how '饭' or rice can be used interchangeably as '餐' or meal). Like that greeting '你吃饭了没有？', which can be translated literally as 'Have you eaten (your rice) yet?'. Goes to show how fundamental rice is, for the purposes of determining a meal, in the Chinese mind.

I don't really have a preference for rice. I guess i have nothing against it in particular, but it's irritating that i have to pick it as a starch option when there are so many nicer tasting starches out there! I'm more a pasta or potato (or cereal; i can have it for EVERY MEAL!) person, and given the choice (or rather, no choice) of starches, it's those i gravitate to.

White rice had been the very 1st item that i struck off my diet when i went on one, and even now, of all the starches, it is the one that i fear most. Oddly, while i'm in treatment, i don't experience any great guilt over eating it, but having it at home is next to impossible. Or possible, but it would spark off a cascade of eating disordered thoughts and actions. Perhaps it's too much of the brainwashing by popular culture. You know, the trend that goes 'white rice is EVIL, it's a REFINED grain that's fibre-less, it turns to sugar in your bloodstream, pick BROWN rice' blah blah blah. It's hard to ignore all that, and to view white rice as just a food, not an AVATAR OF PURE EVIL, for me.

Strangely, noodles are a form of starch which had went thru more processing, and which, by the eating disorder's logic, more unhealthy. And heck, protein bars and DIET COLA are the epitome of processed, 'unnatural' food. Goes to show how illogical the eating disorder's apparent logic is.

Complaint: white rice tastes of NOTHING! It's annoying. People say, spoon the sauce over it so it will taste of something. I go, if the sauce is nice, WHY NOT JUST SLURP THE SAUCE??? Confession: i always had a weakness for nice sauces. If i don't have the eating disorder, i'd be happily lapping curry up by the spoonful. On the other hand, i concede that curry and rice is a happy marriage; curry just doesn't GO well with anything else. On the taste front, brown rice (and wild rice and all the exotic grains) tastes nice on it's own, with this faint nutty hint.

I guess a large indicator of a remission of the eating disorder would be when i'm able to have WHITE rice at home as well as when i'm out with friends, and not feel the overwhelming surge of guilt. It seems far away, but hey, i'm definitely feeling closer to it now (i just conquered flavored milks and cereal!).

The Tummy Fold Factor

One thing ALWAYS drove me nuts: THAT flab of skin (and now, with flesh underneath it as well, after regaining the weight post-anorexia) on my lower tummy!

I used to always sit down with my side facing the mirror, and pinch that annoying fold and despair over how to get rid of it. Even in anorexia, with boney elbows and nary a butt to sit on, that piece of skin refused to go, and that ALWAYS aggravated me to no end. Oh sure, i acknowledge that i was skinny and bones at all my other places, but i never felt like i lost enough weight, because i always had this unconscious belief that the sign i've lost enough is when my tummy looks perfect.

Sounds logical and objective right? Too bad the word PERFECT is subjective when the 'perfect', smooth, unfolded stomachs you see in magazines is when either the model is standing up (normal tummies don't have folds when the skin is stretched taut when you stand upright) or when the offending fold is either hidden out of sight by intervening props or airbrushed away totally!

Not to forget that i used to be overweight (hit a high of nearly 85kg), so there's BOUND to be loose skin with weight loss. Too bad that i never figured that out until now. That stupid fold of skin had caused me SO MUCH MISERY. You see, i always felt like that fold of skin had fat stored in it, and i tried my darndest to starve and exercise it off. Can you imagine an emaciated science lab skeleton with a skin stretched over it, and a loose, baggy bit at the waist? Well, that was me in 2005.

What made the utter fear of re-eating was that ANY food that went into my digestive tract would make my tummy swell (understandably, since i was on a literal starvation diet; anything i eat would feel uncomfortable if you are used to nothing!). And since i had food AND tons of diet cola, OF COURSE there would be loads of gas and liquid in my system. Unfortunately, the swelling would show up at the area around the fold of skin... Which added to the fears that i would grow fat the moment i allowed myself to indulge in food. Weirdly, i would have the same swelling when i have my diet cola, but i rationalized it away at that time as food from the previous day or something.

Wait, i can't believe i spent a post bitching about a stupid bit of skin that's only, like, WHAT, a 5cm oval. Even sadder, that i based so much on my self-worth on it.

The Pig Factor

I hate the word: pigs. Oh, don't get me wrong, i have nothing against those cute little oinky dudes; your conventional bovines. The word pig is just too demeaning a word to name them.

Some words like 'nazi' are loaded words to everyone. A Nazi is simply someone in Hitler's political party or who subscribes to his beliefs, but it comes with 'baggages' or connotations as well. Like, Nazi has a sinister, kill-all-Jews mindset ascribed to them by most people. In the same way, the word 'pig' is a loaded word for me.

When you say the word PIG to someone, usually there are some immediate traits they ascribe to it. Quick list: lazy, fat, smelly, dirty, muddy, greedy... On the positive side? Zilch. Nada. And to me, perhaps it's because i was once teased as being a PIG when i was younger (though i can't really remember the circumstances other than that i was in primary school), so it's a really raw spot that hasn't healed yet.

Mom has a habit of calling me 猪脑, or pig-brain, when i'm acting out and both of us are quarreling. Though i haven't told her how hurtful that is when she says it, it's one of the things that gets under my skin and subconsciously drives the eating disorder. Mental note: tell her one of these days when we're not fighting that i hate it when she calls me pig-anything.

Need me to come up with an insult that absolutely (in my opinion) crushes and triumphs all other? Piggy pig pig!

Calorie Counters, Begone

I gave up my calorie counters!

Ok, it was on one of the days which i couldn't get to sleep. And the clutter on the table is starting to drive me a little nuts. Not the clutter specifically, but the bother of trying to slide an InQuest magazine out from the bottom of it risks starting a landslide of epic proportions.

That's how the calorie counters were unearthed. One of them is the encyclopedic kind (listing everything from apple croissants to zucchini chips), another from the HPB (Health Promotion Board) which i got when i was overweight and so on. It's SURPRISING how long i've gone since i last touched them. It wasn't a conscious choice to NOT to, but it's quite literally a case of being out of sight (in the stacks of books, paper and whatnot), out of mind.

It's weird realizing how much i DON'T feel the need to flip it open every day anymore. I used to tote the calorie counter everywhere i go; for bedtime reading, in the duffel on vacation, heck, even into the bathroom for the time when i'm sitting on the john! That life seems a lifetime ago.

Still, temptation rears its ugly head from time to time. And i figure that i don't need a PHYSICAL reminder of the calories and stuff anymore, i dumped them on dad's dressing table and told him to help me keep those counters.

Honestly, i think that what made this exercise successful was that i gave them up out of my own choice. If the counters were taken forcefully away from me, i would have put up a hell of fight from the infringement of my rights. But if i'm in a calm and rational state of mind, i see the point that the parents have; those books aren't going to help my recovery in any way, and it has the potential to be a pitfall in the future.

Maybe they would be better used for someone who genuinely needs to lose weight. Or for some dietetics library somewhere. All i know is that they're just not meant for me.

ED Or Me?

The favorite question of the ED sufferers's significant others everywhere: Will you choose me, or the ED?

That question is often thrown into the fray in the midst of yet another frustrated quarrel. Maybe it's triggered by funny eating, or exercise, or being distant. I'm can't say that it's the wrong thing for the loved one to say that, because it is entirely justifiable that they feel frustrated at the lack of progress or enthusiasm on their partner's part.

The honest answer to the question? I would choose the ED, because i have no other choice.

Of course, saying that you would choose the ED is the perfect recipe for disaster when answering the loaded question, in the middle of a spat. Put yourself in the significant other's shoes. It is the most hurtful thing you can say. It sounds to them as though you would rather hug and die together with a disease over them. It throws all the effort that they had put in to help you right out of the window. It's a slap in their face.

However, on the EDer's part, the honest answer is a resignation that the ED has a larger grip on our heart. It sounds all romantic to go 'Oh sweetheart, OF COURSE i would choose you'. But the honest truth is that, no matter who it is, no human being knows me better than the demon i carry around in me. The person you love can only be with you so many hours a day; the demon is with me 24/7. Rex knows my deepest, darkest secrets; he knows my vulnerabilities and fears.

The nature of the eating disorder is such that it gives an illusion of choice. Of course, the choice to recover lies in oneself, but often, the question (the choice of ED or significant other) comes with the loaded expectation that the sufferer changes immediately, instantly, totally; which i think is an unreasonable proposition.

In the perfect world, this question would never be asked. Too bad we don't live in a perfect world. Oh wait, i forgot, in a perfect world, an eating disorder wouldn't even exist.

The Crutch Factor

It's definitely weird trying to piece a life back together after being eating disordered for so long. Hell, it's not just about the eating. The overwhelming depression and isolation spills over to the rest of life, and pretty soon, there's nothing but the eating (disorder) left.

All your hobbies, friends, school, social life, family, etc, thrown aside, as the eating disorder systematically eliminates its competition in your heart. And crippling you, so that your only crutch left is the eating disorder.

The things i had to relearn:
-normal eating
-normal exercising
-not letting symptoms get in the way of normal life
-not using the eating disorder as a way to say no/avoid problems
-get off my caffeine (Coke Light and coffee!) addiction

And damn, the last one is the easiest one of them all. No kidding. It REALLY is easy-peasy compared to the rest (which, after sweat and tears, are still elusively out of my reach).

The hard bit is because the eating disorder has effectively ingrained itself as a habit. Sure, the various triggers and physical, corporeal reminders to DO the actions may be taken out of the way. But force of habit persists. And it's hard putting down a temporarily rewarding activity (much like quitting smoking/drugs) when you're feeling lousy about yourself or the world.

I'm trying. I'm learning. Plus, peanut butter no longer disappears by the jar in the house!

Ayam Brand Vegetarian Baked Beans

I woke up one night with a craving for baked beans. No, REALLY! And i doubt i'm pregnant; the last i checked, i still have my male bits!

Anyway, i just really wanted something sweet, salty and filling. Plus something which would not generate a cascade of guilt since it technically would be supper. So off i go to the petrol kiosk and 7-Eleven, but darn, they don't have my favorite Heinz baked beans. Scrounged around the house, and had to settle for the Ayam Brand one (i used to hate their beans because it's much too sweet). Mom (i woke her up to tell her about my craving) was torn between wanting to tell me that i'm CRAZY as a denutted squirrel and amazement that i actually admit to feeling hungry!

Turns out that, even though my tastebuds were fucked up when i was an anorexic, they were spot on about the sweetness bit. The same cloying sweetness, which is like maple syrup swirled with tomato sauce, hit me full in the stomach after half a can. It's the sort of thing which tastes like a dessert as opposed to a side, or something. If you have a serious sweet tooth, this is the baked beans brand to get. If you get woozy from a sugar high, STAY AWAY.

On a side note, count this can of baked beans as a challenge. You see, i have ALWAYS stuck fast to the Heinz one because it has less carbs in it. The Ayam Brand one has 80g of it in a can, which is kind of scary to me. But yay me, i survived it AS A MIDNIGHT SNACK and didn't go nuts, freak out, and stuff myself in a binge after it.

Ayam Brand vegetarian baked beans
(per 1/4 can/106g serving)
100cal, 3.9g protein, 1g fat (0.2g saturated), 19g carbohydrate (8.5g sugar, 4.1g fibre)

Mom reckons i will get cancer or something from eating too much funny things like canned food or protein bars and shakes. Not to forget the occasional diet cola (though my current intake is WAY less than the industrial amounts i used to consume daily!) and satchets of artificial sweetener. I'm still waiting for the day i turn a radioactive shade of green.

The Gym Log Factor

Exercise always meant crazy-exertion-pounding-exhaustion to me before i went to do physiotherapy sessions at Alexandra Hospital (being referred there to learn 'proper exercise' by Dr Lee during my last admission). Gym workouts are more cardio and less weights (with REALLY HIGH and CRAZY weighs) for me. No surprise that i didn't see much results.

Working with a trainer (say hi, Sundar!) had been a big, eye-opening experience for me. For the 1st time in my life, i discovered that exercise wasn't all pain. Oh sure, core exercises like the BOSU ball were really hard for me at 1st (because i NEVER exercised my core before), but it paid off with a better sense of balance and coordination. Oh, and on the weights front? It's really cool discovering that doing lesser weights and lesser repetitions paid off with bigger muscles!

There's a fun thing i discovered too. Nothing beats measuring the progress of my weight training other than keeping a log. Oh sure, the mirror is the best indicator when you flex after a shower, but waiting for the muscles to grow is somewhat akin to watching the grass grow; there isn't a clear, objective before-after comparison. And they say that eating disorders are a form of body dysmorphic disorder... Which means that i can't trust my eyes! So the next best measurement of progress would be the amount of weight and repetitions i do, and there's the fun bit of pushing myself slightly beyond the last limits i made in my last workout while listening to my body and not pushing it beyond what it can tahan (endure).

Nothing beats the satisfaction of looking back at my exercise logs a few workouts before and realizing that i've made progress in an upward trend.

I haven't been back to the Sports Management clinic after discharge, but what i learnt there is being put to good use at the workouts i do in the Clementi Clubfitt gym. Oh, the trainers there are totally relieved to have Ryan, not a skeleton, coming for the workouts! One of the trainers who is really nice to me once told me that she was worried she'd have to call an ambulance to stay outside the gym while i pounded away at the treadmill!

Weight today: kg

Workout today:
chest press (lb)
shoulder press (lb)
rotary torso (lb each side)
leg extension (lb each side)
bicep curl (kg each side)
lat pulldown (lb)
tricep pulldown (lb)
leg curl (lb)
abdominal (lb)

I keep this log in my cellphone and whip it out during my workouts, filling in the necessary information as i go along and swapping the order of the movements if i skip ahead to another machine. Example: 3(sets)x10(repetitions) chest press (100lb). And this is just a basic workout, i tend to experiment with different free weight motions and machines as well in addition to this, so every workout is fun, different and un-monotonous.

Hide Away

Some days i just want to hide away, from everything and everyone.

In a weird way, when i'm down and depressed, i tend to not want to see anyone. It's not because i hate you or something, it's just me not being able to bear to face up to you and slap my happy face on.

Stereotypes And Section 377A

One thing which pisses me off to no end is the sheer amount of prejudice that people have towards what they are unfamiliar with.

Stereotypes exist as a simple way for the human mind to organize stuff. If not, there would be just too much chaos in the world for the human mind to truly comprehend. Still, the simplification of things can turn out to be grossly incorrect. Like, how eating disordered people are often stereotyped as being 'just vain'. Or how homosexual males are sissies. And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

Anyway, on the newspapers recently, there is lots of debate over the criminalization of homosexual sex in Singapore. You see, there is one section in the Penal Code which makes it a crime, even between consenting adults in private. There is a movement by some to repeal that portion, and another motion to keep it.

I guess i can see the point of the 2 sides. On one hand, that bit of the law is illogical in that it infringes on privacy and is, in theory, un-enforcable anyway. What, send policemen peering into our bedroom windows to check if we are banging the correct gender? On the other hand, Singapore IS a conservative society, and the government would risk alienating a large portion of the population should they support the vocal liberal side.

What irks me is how the conservatives hold blatantly untrue beliefs, and what's worse, their views see print in the Straits Times (THE Singapore's newspaper). It is trusted for holding fair views, but the decision to publish this particular letter rubs me the wrong way in being an objective publishing.

I support the retention of Section 377A of the Penal Code- a law criminalising gay sex- to uphold our moral and family values. The petition by Nominated MP Siew Kum Hong does not serve the interests of Singapore as a whole but only of one small sector. In fact, the removal of this law will lead to the disintegration of our social fabric, the family unit, which the Government has been establishing pro-actively. I believe that strong families will lead to a strong nation. I fully support the Government in keeping Section 377A. Gross indecencies must be penalized. For the survival of our nation and the welfare of the future generation, the petition by NMP Siew should be ignored.

-Lim Poh Suan (Ms)

There's so many ways i would love to poke holes in her argument (which appeared on the Forum section on the 16th of October, 2007). But the simplest bit is the generalization that homosexuals would SOMEHOW leap out of the closet and not engage in normal reproduction and run around infecting normal heterosexuals... leading to the collapse of the country??? And to imagine such a letter appearing on the national newspaper.

If it is a post stuck onto some forum, it would be shot down. But the newspaper seems to have taken an approach to simply airing the views of the conservatives (no matter how blatantly wrong they are) and not those in favor of repealing the ban (i'm sure that there would be a deluge of rebuttals). What's worse is that the past weeks had seen similar letters as well, with blatant stereotyping and almost a sense of paranoia and misunderstanding.

KC's post on this (and Pkchukiss's earlier one) is a compelling read.

The Peanut Butter Factor

There's something strangely addictive about peanut butter when you're a binge eater.

I never truly liked peanut butter as a kid. Well, ok, i didn't mind them, but i preferred sweet spreads like kaya or jam. Peanut butter tends to give me a bad case of sore throat. But once i started bingeing, peanut butter is quite practically one of the things which is REALLY satisfying to scarf down, by the spoonful, from the bottle.

Perhaps it's the smooth feel mixed with the traces of peanut. Perhaps it's the high fat content of it. Perhaps it's how easy it is to move your hands up from jar to mouth. Perhaps it's the strange satisfaction of putting a Deadly Sin into your mouth. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps (oh, i love that song!).

My relationship with peanut butter had been better in the past few months. I still don't dare to keep jars of it lying around, but i have it with my waffles (the kind i buy from outside with a filling of your choice) and it's actually pretty nice. Not THAT nice till i crave one every day, but nice nonetheless.

Weird Things Only Bulimics Know About Peanut Butter:
-Once in, never out.
-It's a bottled demon (the Devil, bottled, is Nutella!).
-The biggest jar is 7000 calories for the whole thing.
-Prepare for a sore throat and funny feelings in your stomach and head after a jar.
-It's the only binge food which leaves you full and gasping for air by the end of a jar.

Everything, Everytime

With every mouthful
Bliss
Suffering
Pain
Enjoying
Tears
Unfalling
Guilt
Disgusting
Shame
Overwhelming.

With each restricting
Peace
Sedating
Quiet
Unmoving
Weak
Dizzying
Whirl
Exhilarating
Cold
Comforting.

Dusting Myself Off

There are days when i literally spend the 24 hours holed up in my room and not saying a single thing to anyone. It's not that distant a memory (wait, i can't believe it was just 3 days ago!), but it's one of the things that i don't really want to go back into.

The weird thing is i can spend those lonely hours just zoning out, just staring at the ceiling and lost in the overwhelming deluge of hopelessness. There isn't much purpose to continue ekeing out an existence day by day, is there, for me? Life doesn't have much in store except for more misery (and as the parents love to remind me, i haven't exactly have the best things in hand to go continue studying in a university or to find a job with).

Not much has changed today. Well, ok, the bright side is that i got back up on my feet, made a pact to eat better instead of bingeing on junk and depressing my mood even more, called to remake an appointment with Dr Lee which i missed, got back into the routine of hitting the gym, and generally got on track with fixing the immediate fires in my life.

Big problem now. What's next? Not even i expect, or wish, to continue to live without a purpose. Mom's favourite answer is, enlist in my NS lah! But the way she talks about it is only when we're sniping at each other, so i have no idea if it's meant as a threat or something.

The worst patch of blues hit when i start getting fixated on all the different junctures i could have taken in the past. Like wrapping things up nicely with an eulogy as i near absolute zero on the weighing scale. Or closing my eyes and going to rest at the end of an exhausting day, never needing to awaken from the restful repose. So many easy ways to die and me so close to dying, and it grates on me that nobody let me just die and not suffer thru this misery now.

Ok, shut up, depressed me. Hello, positive me. There's still a day to look forward to with a workout, a meal with old friends and the nice, fluffy blanket at the end of the day. I just wished fairytale endings happened.

My Prerogative

That's one of the groovier beats from Britney Spears which i keep on my cellphone for jogging purposes.



Prerogative: (noun) a right or a privilege, especially one belonging to a particular person or group.

The Strangling Mom Factor

It's not at all a nice feeling when you want to tighten your fingers around a person's neck and wring the heck out of it. But there are times when the rage flows so strong that it's a nice guilty fantasy to leave it bubbling in my head.

Weird thing is, there's only 2 people on the surface of the world who can elicit such a torrent of emotions out of me. Come on, take a guess. It can't be that hard. Ok, i have been pretty faithfully keeping to a semi-vow to not slam them on the new blog and all, but there exists a lot of hatred between me and the parents (and towards mom in particular).

Perhaps it's because we have the same sort of personality. I am reactive when emotional, don't take well to personal attacks (NEVER INSULT MY WEIGHT OR CALL ME ANYTHING REMOTELY RESEMBLING A PIG!!!), can be vindictive when i hold a grudge, prefers 'behind the scenes' sort of thing and refuses to give up my stand on things without a fight. And when we quarrel, it invariably ends up with our heels dug in and both of us refusing to budge from our positions while launching scathing personal attacks on each other like long ranged nuclear strikes.

The aftermath is probably just as bloody, if not more so.

No peace treaty seems to hold for long when both sides are quelled. Ok, Anita (the social worker) usually works a ceasefire pretty well, but when one side starts finding a loophole (and i'm guilty of it sometimes!) or when a new quarrel starts... Take cover and find your lead shielded bunkers!

Now excuse me while i fire off the next salvo.

Final Fantasy 7: Advent Children

Final Fantasy 7: Advent Children rocked!

Ok, it's a movie sequel to the Final Fantasy 7 game (which came out a LONG time ago on Playstation). Nevertheless, the story is one of the best ever on any RPG (roleplaying game), with characters you grow to love and badass foes you'd remember for the rest of your life. Who can forget the bit where Aeris dies at the hands of Sephiroth, or the creepy thing that is Jenova?

Anyway, the game ends with the Planet saved by Avalaunche, the group of heroes you commandered thru the game. However, the remains of Jenova still lies in the Planet's Lifestream (see Gaia theory), and it manifests as Geostigma on the inhabitants of the Planet. Plus, some kind of demented cult which worships Sephiroth and Jenova seeks to raise them yet again.

The story is hard to catch if you didn't have some rudimentary knowledge of the Final Fantasy game (younger brother didn't 'get it' until i explained the entire story to him), but even then, it's an enjoyable show. With CGI to die for and Matrix-y battle scenes! Younger brother went WOW at the eye popping visuals. Oh, and Tifa is definitely one of the prettiest unreal human characters ever, giving Lara Croft a serious run for her money (and cup size!).

The show is even more fun if you were a Final Fantasy 7 player. There's a TON of subtle references to the game, and kudos to the movie makers for blending the traditional victory theme of Final Fantasy games into the movie without being corny! I'm sure that there's Chocobos in there, somewhere (you know, those cute yellow ostrich-like birds that go KWEH! in the games), just that i haven't spotted it yet!

Edit: they don't appear in the movie... in full, at least!

Now for the all important question: how ON EARTH does Cloud manage to keep his armpits clean and shaved while roughing it out in the WILDERNESS for MONTHS??? Must be something to do with his fetish for enormous swords. Hmm...

My Way

If i had my way
I wouldn't have chosen to be this way
Throw the remains of my life away
There's not much left in it anyway.

Dying in the IMH bed
Not the most comfortable around, at any rate
Better than living and regaining weight
Face the pain instead of being peacefully dead.

Not need to face my greatest dread
Being fat and having a waist
Gorging on food all day
No thank you, i'd stay anorexic instead.

I can blame everything all day
I may survive today
In the end, i have to support myself day by day
So moaning and bitching ain't gonna get my way.

But i still look back and wish i had my way
I was prepared to leave this world then, anyway
If i had my way
Darn the world for not letting me have my way.

October Resolutions

I figure that the best way to actually achieve something more concretely would be to make monthly resolutions. You see, it would give me accountability to everyone (at the beginning of the next, new month) as well as putting down a goal concretely which seems to help me when i work towards something.

Overall (even mom can testify!), my eating had become better, with being more able to tolerate breakfast cereals as well as admitting to needing food when i'm hungry instead of just sucking it up and trying to squelch the urge. Still, i tend to be mired in fat thoughts and would often withdraw and not reply my SMSes, pick up calls and so on. So i'm still definitely not out of the woods yet.

The goals for October:
-Have starches with at least one meal per day.
-Eat at least 2 servings of fruit (ever since i went lowcarb, fruit had been an iffy thing and i can go days without any for fear of the sugars!)
-Get out of the house at least every other day.
-Hit the gym 3 times (no more, no less) a week.
-Do no more than 4 times of jogging per week.
-Take a time out instead of arguing with dad when he breaches topics i feel strongly against.
-Go clothing shopping by the end of the month!

There! All down nicely, plus with objective goals to meet (instead of merely aiming to eat better). Check back next month for the results. I think that the goals i made for myself are reasonable. Not so easy that i can do it without breaking a sweat, nor so hard that i'd be discouraged and just give up.

Noisy Cars

Count me as one of those guys who ain't impressed by cars. I don't know, it seems to me that loads of guys find the topic of cars interesting, but i find it about as interesting as musing if it will rain later in the day.

I don't know. To me, being able to drive is a Nice Thing to have, but it's not a die-die-must-get sort of thing. Personally, i'd rather be driven around by somebody else than get behind the wheel! Knowing my hand-eye coordination, or, more precisely, lack of it, it's probably a Good Thing that i don't drive.

Or maybe it's a genetic thing... Hmm, the one and only time mom drove, she rammed into a streetlight... TWICE. And NEVER got behind the wheel again.

Ok, when you're damned tired after a workout or a tough cardio session of window shopping, the last thing i want to do would be to get behind the wheel and brave the traffic home. Or god forbid, if i'm running a stomachache. Can you imagine beating the traffic lights to rush to a toilet??? No thanks, dude!

Sure, there might be the thrill of zooming around at high speeds... But if i wanted that thrill without risking a driving ticket, i'd get my fix at Escape theme park/Disneyland instead. Heck, maybe even go somewhere with a nice bumper car circuit.

Oh, and something drives me nuts when i go for jogs along South Buona Vista road. Some dudes love having their big, loud, flashy sport cars blaring down the twisty road at, what, Mach 3 speeds, and risk getting both their (scrawny) necks and mine broken. Like, come on, everyone knows that you have a penis inferiority complex, but you don't need to go around shouting it out for the world!

Nyah nyah, you have a small phallus!

Maybe the lack of interest in getting a car would be a Good Thing in Singapore, where you need to foot a ginormous amount of money just to get the license to own a car. Still, it ain't the most chivalrous thing to sit in the passenger seat while The Wife drives, so... Looks like i need to get behind the wheel.

It's not my fault if i crash the car!

Umbrella

There's something strangely addictive about the 'Ella, ella, ella' bit.

I like the rest of the Good Girl Gone Bad album as well. Worth grooving to!

Warning: highly addictive!

Monopoly: Here And Now Edition

There's something incredibly addictive about Monopoly.

Oh dear, there i go, geeking out again. To set things straight, i LOVE the game on the computer, as opposed to the physical form. Which requires you to round up friends, count Monopoly money, be a human calculator (woe to figuring out that damned 10% thing on the income tax square!) and then pack up when the game is over. The computer version (there's lots of them, by the way, but my personal favourite is the Here and Now edition) solves all the bookkeeping hassle and has decent AI opponents for you to pit your Donald Trump-ness against!

It's that sort of game like Tetris that you fire up while waiting (perhaps for that download to finish), and end up playing again and again for the sheer addictiveness of it. There's something indescribable in the pleasure of crushing the computer mercilessly (and hitting 'exit game' when the tide turns against you!) and cackling madly when they have to pony up rents at your hoteled lots!

Playing it with younger brother had been an incredible bonding experience (get your minds out of the gutter!); it had been ages since we both played a multiplayer game together on the computer (the last one was ages and ages ago before i was sick; Heroes of Might and Magic 4, if i'm not wrong!). Oh, and he discovered something weird: Texas Stadium and Disney World seems to be popular landing spots, so nab those quick and plonk your hotels down there!

Nasty thing i discovered too: 3 houses on every monopoly you have makes for the best returns in exchange for the least money (since you definitely don't have enough moolah to go hotelling every monopoly you have). Grab your utilities, they pay rather well and you don't need houses on them.

Oh, and in which alternate reality is it cheaper to rent 4 houses compared to staying in a hotel??? Mr Monopoly gotta get his facts straight!

Parents, Don't Give Up

Dr Lee (according to mom) once said that treatment for eating disorders in the local context is somewhat different for treatment for eating disorders in Western countries. Apparently, the treatment there is more focused on the individual, whereas the local culture necessitates a bigger emphasis on the family.

You see, it ain't in our culture to spread our wings and fly as soon as we're 18. Or to leave for some far flung college or stuff. In Singapore (and most Asian countries), parental support continues to exist (and be expected) all the way until the individual is married or something. The family is more 'intrusive' upon the individual, so as to speak, and has great influence. Thus, treatment would not just be focused upon the sufferer, but also on the family as a whole so as to sustain the state of recovery.

It may be a blessing in disguise. Ok, i always resented the amount of intrusion my parents had in my life, but now i see how crucial it was in getting me to the (better than before) state now. If they didn't shove me in the direction of recovery with IMH (though i still can't forgive and forget all the times i've been sent there in a psychiatric ambulance!) and the various things they did, chances are that i'd probably be in a worser state.

I know, i should be thanking them. So, um, ok, thanks mom and dad, for your constant shoving.

Perhaps this post is meant more for the supporters of the eating disordered individual. You see, even though it's not a picnic dealing with an anorexic or bulimic, we need your support and though, at times, we hate it when we are forced to eat or stuff, we love you for caring. We might scream and rage at you for the moment (and perhaps years after that) but truly, it is for our own good.

I hated my parents for the whole of 2006 for what they did to me. Then i realized that they truly do care for me and they don't want the eating disorder to claim victory over me. Some things they did still hurt (and i find it hard to forgive), but i figure that dwelling on the past and resenting them for the rest of my life wouldn't do me nor them any good. I managed to single handedly make dad depressed, and it might seem like sweet revenge for all the IMH stays he forced me into, but i don't taste any true sweetness, only the bitter taste of guilt.

Don't despair if we seem incorrigible and irrecoverably sick. Hell, i was REALLY ILL a year ago and i think that most people wouldn't have held out hope that i would become any better (i was really ill and looking for ways to crawl back into anorexia). But look, ok, i might not be any model for recovery, but at least i can say that i'm no longer actively clawing my way into being anorexic again. Pro-anorexia is no longer something i count myself part of (i do understand that it's a personal choice to make, however, just that i have decided that i'd throw myself in recovery's direction as opposed to fighting tooth and nail against it because 'it's what the parents forced me into').

Don't give up hope, because it is still there. If my parents gave up and threw in the towel (and boy can i testify how much of a toughie i was), i'd definitely not be here.

Over the Distance

A really close friend who was a fellow fighter against her eating disorder passed away exactly a year ago.

This is one of my favorite emotional-ish songs from Osu! Tatake! Ouendan! game on the Nintendo DS. I figure that i'd keep this post short and stuff.

I miss you, Petrina.

Looping Again

It's a neverending cycle. For the binge/restrict cycle, for me, for the past few weeks.

I haven't been doing too well, and it sucks when i'm trying to be encouraging while going thru my own personal hell at the same time. Every day seems to be a constant struggle within me. Quite literally, one ying and one yang. The ying feeds the yang, the yang feeds the ying; both has their own pros and cons, and i zoom round and round in both as though i'm on a demented loop-the-loop rollercoaster.

The worst bit is when Rex's seductive siren call starts. "Just try my way, one more day, it wouldn't hurt, and you don't have anything to lose." he would say. And off we go, round and round the loop again. I know, in hindsight, it's the worst thing i can do, but in the moment of passion, so as to speak, it's the most promising way out of the fatness and disgust at myself from a binge.

It's frankly tiring and it's akin to running endlessly on the treadmill, burning and bingeing the same calories over and over again. The biggest guilt is over the fact that i KNOW what i have to do to get myself out of the rut, but it's just too scary to DO it.

Ok, there, i've confessed it. I just haven't been trying hard enough and i don't even dare to admit it to myself. But from this post onwards, i would get myself back on track with my eating. I can't expect to run back to the ward for the rest of my life. Do or do not, there is no try.

Daisy Multigrain Milk

I absolutely love multigrain and oat milks to bits. Well, it's kind of a binge food, usually, but i've been taking it without danger (albeit in 500ml cartons as opposed to the dangerous 1l cartons which can be tempting) in the recent weeks (they make a handy night-time snack since milk helps me to sleep). Since i'm in the ward and all. And for some reason, being in the ward helps keep the symptoms away a whole ton (though that's a story for another post!).

There's quite a few kinds of grain-added milks in the market, but personally, my favourite one would be the Daisy's one. It's sweet and not all that thick or creamy (though lots of my pals prefer the others precisely because they're thick and creamy; those don't agree well with me and i have the urge to hurl after taking too much of them!).

The problem is that the 500ml packs seem to have a nasty habit of appearing only every now and then on the convenience store chillers, so don't bank on finding them every time you crave for it.

Daisy Multigrain milk
(per 200ml serving)
115calories, 8g protein, 2g fat (1.2g saturated), 16.2g carbohydrate (4.8g lactose, 1g fibre)

Bad Self Talk

Are you talking to yourself again? Of course you are! Everyone talks to themselves in the privacy of their own minds. This is called an internal dialogue, or mental conversation. Your silent dialogues consist of thoughts that reflect your perceptions and interpretations of actual or potential events in your life. These inner conversations also entail self statements- thoughts and inferences or conclusions about yourself. Your emotions emanate from how you talk to yourself about yourself.

Your internal discourse often happens without you realizing that you're talking to yourself. These mental processes are so ingrained that they occur automatically. They require no deliberate, conscious thought. This habitual, automatic-pilot mode of thought just flows and, in a sense, is mindless- because you aren't thinking about your thinking.

Among the obvious liabilities of mindlessness is that you don't know your own mind. You don't see the crucial connections between your silent assumptions, thoughts and interpretations, and how you feel. You only notice the emotions that these dialogues deliver. So, you end up having to deal with these feelings, especially if they are negative and intense. Seldom do you reverse the mental tape and listen carefully to the inner conversations that led you astray. But that's exactly what must be done.

-The Body Image Workbook

Sounding familiar? Well, i've got a tape in my head, and it doesn't stop reminding me how fat and disgusting (and all the negative things i've associated with self fatness) i am.

Ryan's Private Body Talk (after a gym workout): Hey, i feel kind of good about myself today, and yay, i swear my chest is looking better. But, oh god, that butt refuses to go away. I absolutely hate the way it jiggles. And that horrible bulge at my stomach. Ok, it might not stick out THAT much, but i still hate it all the same. I wish i'm 5kg lighter. Then i wouldn't feel so useless and people would like me more.

Re-reading my own self talk made me realize how much i put myself down. Sure, i acknowledge that i have good points, but that's drowned out by the torrent of BUTs (and about my butt!) that's interjected after the self complimenting, as though i don't deserve to have any compliments in the 1st place.