The Fattening Season

I'm on my nth attempt to gain weight. Since time immemorial I've been constantly trying to add some flesh to my gawky body and each time I failed miserably.

The only time that I saw a fleshier me was the period when I was regularly going to the gym. That was back in Davao where the gyms are more affordable, food is abundant, and I had better time management. I'd wake up at 4:30 am and by 5 I'd be on the treadmill or the bike for warm up. I hated lifting weights, as if I had a choice though so it consisted about 85 per cent of the program. For about three years, going to the gym was a routine for me, added by regular yoga (ok, make that semi-regular), swimming, and jogging. And I gorged on food, thanks to Daisy.

Despite all the physical activity I actually gained some weight. They were muscles I suppose because I was getting a bit of attention about how I was bulking up. It made me damn uncomfortable, the attention that is. But indeed I felt better because I didn't look awkwardly skinny anymore. Of course all that physical activity also gave me a boost of serotonin, so the confidence factor was a bit better.

Late last year, reading a lot of Bryanboy gave me the idea that being thin is in fact glamorous. So I went into my anorexia stage. It was not seriously anorexia but I avoided food more or less. I dabbled with vegetarianism (well, I still ate fish) and was conscious about carbs. I stopped working out. In three months, I lost all the bulk that I gained for three years in the gym. I was happy for a while, especially at the ease that I shed off the weight, practically effortless. Not eating is my forte after all.

My weight futher plummeted when I worked in a call center for several months. The sleep deprivation, weird schedule, chain smoking, endless cups of coffee, and general lack of apetite for anything brought me to skin and bones. My friends in Davao who saw me during my better days thought that I look like a holocaust survivor. My face was sallow, my stomach practically caved in, and I felt weak almost all the time (thanks in part to my call center work).

When I moved to my new job about a couple of months back I decided to get serious with gaining some weight again. I know for some people this can be easy but the opposite is true for me. It takes me forever to put on one pound, much less the 10 pounds (minimum) that I need to make my height-to-weight ratio at normal levels. Going to the gym is not an option at this point because I'm dirt poor, I don't even have a decent pair of sneakers. Exercise is limited to climbing MRT stations and yoga.

The only option I have at this point is eat. I've never been good at eating. I hate eating. It's laborious and such a waste of time and money. I consider food as poison to my body. But I have no other recourse. Recently I've been gorging carbohydrates and animal fat that my stomach is virtually a dumpster of sugar and animal carcasses. I feel like puking when I feel like I've over-stuffed my self.

But well, a fag has to do what he has to do to look healthy again. At this stage, I have to continue my weight gain program, which is more bread, pasta, Milo, cookies, and ice cream. Ugh! An officemate told me that I might need to take some food supplements as well. Good idea.

Last night I was saw my self in the mirror and realized that my cheeks are not as hollow as before and I am actually developing a small tummy. It might have been all in my head but a fantasy is a good start.