Things I can't say...

Did you ever considered that offering money just lowers my self confidence to do any losing of weight now?
Like, all my life, my existence is already nothing more than a 'need to lose weight' mission to you...
And now to add on to that....
If I lose any weight - 'Oh she's now doing it because of money.'
How low and despicable can a human get.

Oh... and that scar you keep shaking your head in disappointment of how it turns out at?
BELONGS TO A HUMAN with feelings.
Belongs to someone who will need to carry on with it for the rest of her life
Belongs to the same person you scraped of any hope or confidence that she can lose weight on her own without money as motivation.

Should I have just died at childbirth?
You know...
After hearing that my whole lifetime..
How worthless I am if I don't lose weight...
I'm thankful I haven't died.

Thank God for Jesus.
For love, unconditional.
For brothers who are more brothers to me than you can ever be.

Promotion

I don't deserve it.

To God be all the glory and praise! 

I'm so thankful because it was so unexpected. 

Because I was at home, having soup past lunch hour instead of being in the office. 

Because I'm having a tough time at work and feels like I need to run away. 

Because this self been struggling to feel again her passion and love for work ever since the surgery. 

~

No one tells you that being under sedation would leave you knowingly not yourself anymore once it's over. 

That you would forget things you would have never forgotten before it happened. 

That the way you feel things would be different after. 

That things you were so sure of, you would now be in so much doubt of. 

So thank you, dear boss! For believing in me. 

Thank you for this borrowed confidence that I am trying so hard to be again. 

Thank You, God! 

For making this happen at this precise moment I am struggling in.

Because no one else knows me and love me like You do. 

Blood

The single thought of donating blood has saved my life.
With a finger prick, my haemoglobin was too low, hence rejected by the team.
Got myself tested on my own, to prove them wrong.
Only to see the truth.

Half of what the minimum normal range is.

I took the panel doctor's comment of needing blood transfusion as a joke.
Turns out I was wrong.

The specialist won't let me out again to attend a concert.
I needed blood transfusions as soon as possible.
The pressure of the blood forcing itself through my small veins was painful.
Hours and hours of feeling that pain.
Remarkably slept through the second bag after it started and part of the third bag in the morning.

3 bags of O+ in my veins later...
I can walk up the stairs without hearing my heart racing in my ears.
I can wash Odie2 better.
I can sleep better.
I no longer tire easily.
I can repress my feelings better.
And I eat like a cow. T.T

I'm thankful for this intervention.
Without it who knows when I would have known.
The surgery that is to come, I surrender to the Almighty that have put the thought in me suddenly; when my last donation was in 2016.

Weight Rant

Everyone notices and rejoices when you lose two digit weight.

But where's the joy when you have to spend money to change your wardrobe?

Where's the joy in not feeling like it because you are kind of mentally stuck with wanting to stay comfy in old sizes?

Where's the joy when every week you get anxious if you will keep to that weight?

Where's the joy in knowing this was a result of a lot of major stress and losing a loved one?

Where's the joy of knowing now you have the mental ability to stress your system into diarrheas and hence lose more weight?
(what if you use it and slowly lose control over this ability.)

I wish for once, everyone would just not rejoice.
Just stop.
Making comments as superficial as, 'Yay, keep going!' is awfully horrendous and belittling the effort it takes.
The struggle is so much more than just exercising or skipping meals or eating healthy.

Goodbye Odie!

At exactly 13 years old, you are officially not mine tonight.

You have been at the start of my adulting years.
Symbol of having responsibility and freedom.

I remember how frantic I was on getting your first repaint after I ram into the green fence at my first job. I thought I was on reverse when I was actually in D.
And subsequently I mellowed little by little on the small bumps and scratches that came along.

Many, many fries have spilt into your narrow spaces.

Many lovely naps taken in you while waiting for church or events throughout the years.

First road trips to Langkawi, Sungai Petani and Ipoh was made possible with you.

Going to the car wash that first time was thrilling, because it was just something my dad doesn't do for his car.

The little kids that have sat in you, are all grown up now.
And the teens who drove you after they passed, now all have their own cars.

You were even the saving grace one day in getting Slavedriver in time to the airport after his initial ride got broken into.

The most dangerous state I got you into was distractingly eating a fruit and not braking in time. There you went into the spare tyre of a taller vehicle with you.

And then there was that guy who rammed into you while we queued in that junction near work, and I didn't get much money to fix your bumper from him.

But other than that, you have not been in any accidents. And I am very thankful for that.

You have been so good to me and my 20s. Thank you.