It's all the dietitian's fault.
Sometime at the end of last year, we had to see a dietitian because of Huda's poor weight gain.
After she took note of Huda's feeding habits (hardly any), she turned to me, the provider of milk.
She asked me about my eating habits, calculated my BMI and found that I was hovering close to the underweight category . She told me to eat more - more protein, fresh milk (none of the low-fat stuff) etc.
A few weeks later, we took her to a GP because of her fever and the doctor told me the same thing.
I then vowed to eat and eat and eat and eat.
And so began my new diet consisting of heavy breakfast, two lunches, tea time snacks, heavy dinner, supper and plenty of snacking in between. The milk - I can finish a 1-litre carton in 2 days. You can get fat just reading about what I'm eating.
Now, does it show or what!
So, I'm going to start doing something which I've always had the intention of doing.
Exercise.
Yes. That's a vulgar word (to me).
But, it has to be done. It was supposed to start on Saturday but, conveniently, the stadium was not available. Just now, I bought an exercise VCD.
I brought it to my mom's (who strongly encouraged me to buy the VCD) and, ummm, while my very fit 56-year-old mother was at it, I was, ummmmm, eating chocolates and potato chips in front of the computer.
See how motivated I am?
But, I will. I must. These flabs have to go. I do not wish to grant them permanent residency status! Or, worse, citizenship! Gaaaaaah!
(Psssst. Exercising regularly is actually another one of my resolutions which I have not never achieved for many, many years. Hopefully, this is the year when resolutions become realities.)