So here I am.
First, the excuses.
Why haven't I been writing?
1. The children keep me busy.
2. I'm still playing Candy Crush.
3. My laptop has aged considerably and is now moving as fast as, errrr, me?
4. I was busy discovering apartments and mansions on airbnb.
5. My sister introduced me to reddit. (Where have I been all this while?)
6. I think I've run out of excuses.
Who shall I write about first? #1? #2? #3? Or shall I write about me? Yes, me it shall be. (Come on, stop groaning now.)
Haha!
Aiyah. Just a short one. (I hope.)
I have some extra kilograms on me now. Yesterday, I started my first exercise programme since I became pregnant. That's about 16 months of no exercise. I rode The Husband's steel stallion, ie, his exercise bike. According to the display, I burnt 150 calories. But I don't think that's enough to burn the tubs of Nutella Tarts that I have been consuming. Of course home bakers don't have that nutrition (or lack thereof) table on their bottles. But I bet the big tub of nutella tarts that I almost single-handedly ploughed in less than a week contained at least 10,000 calories. There's a 100 of those little devils inside each tub. Each of them has a whole lot of butter and sugar in the tarts and that nutella filling? Oh. My. God. Divine stuff. And I only burnt 150 calories. How can I ever see a thigh gap. I'm never going to see a thigh gap. Ever.
But after that, I watched 'My 600-lb Life' on Channel 425. That's almost 300kg. After the show, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. So relieved I was by the reflection that I did a little jig. I think this is how people grow obese. By watching shows about people who are morbidly obese and then comforting yourself, that you are not *that* bad. But the absence of a thigh gap tells me that I could be making my way there. The steel stallion shall not be ignored. Tomorrow, we will be acquainted again.
I've been on unpaid leave since January and I have not read any books! Unless you count children's books. And more children's books. I have to randomly read the books the kids bring home to make sure that the contents are not objectionable. This random reading brought me to an End Blyton book. I've always had a thing for The Naughtiest Girl series. But somehow, I never read the Malory Towers series. So, I read it. And I found it objectionable. Two sisters were getting ready for school and their mother appeared in the doorway. A magnificent description of the mother followed. The sisters were so pleased by the mother's appearance because it simply would not do for a mother to look anything less than a diva. Especially when all their friends would know that that woman was their mother. And worse, those girls pooh-poohed a schoolmate whose mother cried as she took the train to go to the boarding school. I stopped reading right there. I could not go on. I don't know if the girls changed their opinions at the end of the book but no, oh no.
As a card-carrying-member of the Frumpy Mothers Club who wears Fitflops with everything and abhors contact lenses and prefers her nerdish glasses and whose tudung is always penyek like a keropok lemau, my daughter cannot read about daughters who prefer their mothers to look like goddesses. *clears phlegm and spits* There, you snooty Malory Towers girls. Take my phlegm, spat out with as much disdain as I imagine you show me.
Sooooo. Anyway. I have not read any story books for my own personal enjoyment. Fiction. Newspapers, tafsir Quran, blogs, facebook walls, twitter feeds etc don't count.
Speaking of twitter feeds. My twitter was hijacked by some Russian bots and then it made me follow a whole lot of funny characters, including Erdogan, Turkey's PM. And a lot of sleazy characters too. Since I hardly use it, I finally decided to kill the twitter account. So now I'm left with FB (in which I'm still pretty active) and IG (only one photo uploaded and every few weeks, I will remember it and trawl a length of IG feeds and that's it).
Quite a long story about me. Hehe. Will stop here and my next post will be about #3.
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