I was in Alabang last week for what perhaps is the
most paranoid Pre-employment exam ever. I arrived
extra early because I wanted keep the  duration of my
fast as short as possible. My last meal was at 8pm of
the previous evening and by 7am, I was starving. How
anorexics manage is a wonder. (This another indicator
of why I will never be stick thin). I was expecting it
to take only a couple of hours, but I was at the
Clinic from 830am to 2. It would have probably been an
hour shorter if it didn't take me so long to submit a
sample for the drug test. No it's not because I've on
something, but they wanted me to fill two whole sample
containers at just one go. As if that were not enough,
I had to do it in plain sight of the attending nurse,
behind a sliding door which turned out to be made of
glass. What pressure!

I'm extremely paranoid about my health. It's because I
don't want to die a painful death. And because i don't
want to die early (I'm still holding out for the age
of the teleport). And mostly because I don't want to
miss out on certain things in life just because I have
a condition that tells me not to. Plus, as Pbear says,
I'm really too cute to die. Haha.

Anyway, the medical exam had a tad bit more tests than
your typical X-Ray, Drug Test, and Pee Test. The
nurses took an ECG, an audiogram, and that
breathe-in-breathe-out test I used to take when I was
a kid with bad asthma. That kind of freaked me out for
a bit because for a split second I thought, "What if I
have a congenital heart condition and I only have a
few years to live?" or "What if all that eating has
ballooned my stomach and now my lungs have no space to
breathe?" or "What if someone snuck drugs into my
punch and now they think I'm a junkie?". Okay, the
last one was overreaching.

(It's funny, because sometimes the things you're
paranoid about are not the things that happen, and the
things you didn't worry about at all are the ones that
do.)

Diagnosis in. Everything is normal. Well, not
everything. For one my cholesterol is above normal,
but in my blood's defense, last year was my feasib
schoolyear, dose, and included a good two months of
lechon debauchery (it seems to be the gift of choice
nowadays). My lungs aren't in
three-nonstop-rounds-around-acad-oval shape anymore.
(I have to go back to letting it experience what it's
like to actually breathe in a whole lot of air because
it has to). I have mild hearing loss, (Damn you,
loudspeakers at my events!) which could explain why
I'm tone deaf, but maybe I just did the audiogram
thingy wrong. Oh, and I have an infection, but I they
made me take a pill for that.

I feel bad that I'm not at the peak of health. But
that's really my fault. I've always looked at "getting
fat" as a weight issue. And while I tend to obsess
about it one blog entry at a time, I've never thought
of it as that big a deal because that's just me: one
moment  I'm tanned (or not tanned) athlete crazy about
the best running shoes, backpack, attire, and sports
date and another moment, I'm a couch potato drowning
in FTv. But now, the truth is, I've been waiting a
whole lotta time to get out of this fitness rut. And
it's always been one step forward in that direction
and two steps back.

Reading this over, I sound like some crazy woman. Or a
heroin addict. But this restaurant-eating-couch-potato
lifestyle is really my addiction. And like some
junkie, I'm kind of blaming it on certain people
(Let's stop eating steak, and cupcakes at Serendra,
and half dozen Krispy Kreme with coffee breakfasts!).
Really, I've been trying to ease myself into being
healthy, but the last time that worked for any addict
was... never. I'm going cold, cold, cold turkey.
Without the buttery giblet gravy.

Tags: me
Current Location: ate joanne's office
Current Mood: determined