Oh, alright. Too harsh, not true. I'm just being half cheeky, and half not entirely pleased with the photos I got. For one thing, there were few. For another, they weren't great in quality. When the subject matter is questionable [refer to Pudgy, below], you gotta make up for it somehow. Anyway, I'm not beyond admitting we all get our inspiration from somewhere, and so I took heart from a certain famous fairy and wa-lah! I'll put them up at some stage... Assignment-procrastination is the priority of the moment, ya'know.
Meanwhile, you may get a chuckle outta this (at least someone benefits):
Thus Pudgy, I Tell Myself: I Am Well-Rounded
I mean that literally. As in physically.
I should start with the justification that I am not a big emotional eater (distinct, mind you, from being a big eater, or just plain greedy for that matter, but that’s beside the point), and that I don’t (unequivocally) care if I can boast being a little bit more cuddly. I know, from observation, that being chubby is comparative and somewhat season-dependent. Besides, this fluctuating up and down a couple is normal for me. So hurrah for Joy.
Example #1 – I wasn’t bunnycheeks four years ago. In fact, I was far toner than I am now. But if you compare photos from then and now, I looked like I was fed with a golden spoon.
Example #2 – Every winter, my eyesight becomes a little for the wanting, and an undoubtedly Chinese girl peeks out from the little slits she has for eyes where not obscured by cheek fat.
But enough examples less someone gleefully decides to haul out photos now safely cocooned in cobwebs and time past. The point is, we take turns, the winter trees and I. When the weather becomes cold, they shed their leaves and I pile on some pounds. When it heats up again, we swap. What’s more, I generally cut myself some slack every exam time. I stop cooking, eat out, and come back with trolleys full of titbits to ease the pain of deadlines, sleep deprivation and caffeine poisoning. The beauty is, the process is gradual. No one really notices, because my tree-buddies and I have perfected the art of even-paced subtlety. That, or that at least the difference is slight enough to let slide, not highlighted singing on top of your lungs on very public rooftops.
Until now.
It doesn’t help that this term has been particularly trying for me for a handful of reasons. But as if being deflated isn’t bad enough, in the last three weeks, I have ballooned like a rubber on the tip of a helium pump. At first, I decide not to panic. Sure, girls get paranoid and subjective about topics like this all the time. We're our own worst critic. Most of the time, the extent of our exaggeration is purely in the mind. “I’m sure I’m overreacting,” I reassure myself. So in my utmost wisdom, I decide to seek the boy’s opinion.
“I think I’ve put on quite a bit of weight. My face is so round…”
“Yep!” *enthusiastic nod*
“WHAT??”
“No la…”
“No wait, really, I have, haven’t I? I think I’ve gain a few pounds…”
“Yup!” *nodnodnod*
"Seriously!!!"
"Er.. umm... armm... nahhh..."
"Hones--"
*NODNODNODNODNOD*
“But… WHY?”
“Well, first up, you’ve been staying up nights, so you’ve eating one extra meal everyday for the past month or so. Then, you’re snacking on junk instead of proper food, and I don’t need to tell you anything about that. And then, there’s no doubt you’re growing olde—”
“But but but…”
“You know you are.”
“But… you really can tell? That I’m fatter? But… you see me everyday…?”
“I can see.”
So he’s honest, but does he need to sound so enthusiastic about it, too? And can someone tell him pudgy isn't an endearment any way you cut it?
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