Monday, August 9


I think I might have to change the title of this blog to that one above.

I have 30-odd shirts that I cannot wear anymore. That's not counting the denim and other clothes most of which I got just last year and early this year. Now I can't even wear a shirt I got before The Diva's wedding. I'm left with a few pieces which might not even fit me in a few days if am not careful. This morning I called my mom into my room and showed her the shirts. It depresses me that she could wear them, and they fit her better.

Why, what did I ever do to deserve this? I eat the same food. I even walk around more. I climb five flights of stairs everyday. I walk to the train station to the UP Katipunan station. I walk around the oval when the weather permits. Every time I swing by the department, someone would note that I'm putting on weight. Like I didn't notice that myself. I just don't understand how this can happen.

I want to be able to wear my clothes again. I don't want to go out and shop anymore because it's very difficult to find clothes I like and which actually fit.

This is making me depressed when I shouldn't be. I need to be in top shape. I have obs classes this afternoon and I just couldn't help it because I do need nice clothes today. It just makes me sad that I can't wear that particular white shirt and that pair of nice pants.

Some of you might think this is not an emergency. The world has other problems much more important--hunger, war, drugs, obesity. But this is my problem, my war. And it pains me that my mother can actually wear this:

My mom is wearing a shirt that says I like boys? It's the end of the world, dude. Run for cover.

It's the end of my S and XS and 0 existence. I need a donut.

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