I woke up

Shattered on the inside.

For the past week, I haven't had a day where I properly woke up without body aches. Sometimes it's pole, sometimes it's yoga, sometimes it's my own stretching. And I FUCKING LOVE IT. I am so hooked on the after-day burn.

My diet yesterday was nothing to be proud of but strangely, none of them it came haunt in the morning to haunt me. In fact, when I woke up, my hip bones were so carved out and I was so fucking hungry that I had a stomachache. Does it make sense? No, but that's my body for me.

Can't wait for the day my core develops and I stop depending on good lighting and strategic editing.



In times of self-doubt, I ask myself:

Do you respect the man born with a silver spoon, or the man who slaved for his golden goblet?

And I came to conclude: with all my heart, I want to be the man born with a silver spoon. But I can accept that that's not my life. I can accept it without fuss. What I cannot accept it not making my most valiant attempt at acquiring my own golden goblet.

I am not born with flexibility. And it never bothered in the sense that I can daydream about flying across skies a la Cirque de Soleil, stretching like an angel as I do. But I never cared enough to do anything about it. Until two months back, when I took up pole dancing.

Seeing everyone in class surpass me in movement grace raised the competitive streak in me. I have strength, I can mount a pole, I can mount any structure. I can crush you. I can, in the right frame of rage, rip your pole off the ceiling.

But I cannot stretch like you do. I cannot keep my legs straight when we do our crosses on the floor. I cannot spread my legs as we glide across the pole. I cannot I cannot I cannot. And hearing that word irked me to the point of madness.

So instead of reacting in jealousy, I decided to let the flexible girls in my class motivate me instead. I can motivate them for my strength and ability to hold onto the pole for as long as I please, while they can torture my mind with their exquisite stretches.

But not for long!!!

I decided to go all out. I gave myself a goal;

If I can't do a split by the end of this year, I will..

No.

I will do a split by the end of this year.

End of line.

Worked all day to see my baby!

I went to pick him up at Tanah Merah and we wound up exploring Joo Chiat, satisfying my ba chor mee craving hehe he's always tending to what I want. A while later, we headed down to Paya Lebar to wait for a (long) bus ride home.

He was lying in my lap and so I was singing him songs. I made up a song about how cute he is, then after a while he made me sing soft kitty and when I got bored of that, I sung Rudolph the red nose reindeer and he vehemently exclaimed, "It's not Christmas yet!"

Then he sat back up and started his phone and searched for that song on YouTube while mumbling, "See la now I feel like listening to Christmas songs," and tuned me out as he plugged in into his music AWWW SO ADORABLE!











My disgustingly adorable baby!

Night time was me rushing my report while he Dota'ed to death. I made him quit after one round to fuss over me and he grudgingly did, spooning me to sleep hehe I sleep so well in his arms.

I thought it was nice that he gave up Dota for me. Turned out he had already planned to wake up with me tomorrow morning to play it more, on the pretext of, "I am improving my skills okay, just like how you are improving your yoga skills!'

He is so hooked it is unreal.

It matches my obsession with fitness.

During our loving, he lovingly told me how he can see my muscles flexing as I moved and that he loved me he loved me he loved me. But once we concluded, the first thing he piped up was, "Baby just now during dinner I told you the Dota championship this year was 7 million. It is actually 14 million, 7 million is last year, sorry."

I wish I could be angry but ISN'T HE CUTE AWWW DAMMIT.