Buddhists Do Scratch Their Heads Too

The first thing I do in the morning is to stand in front of the mirror sideways and measure the bulge on my tummy. I don't know about you but my mood is inversely proportional to the size of my tummy. And because I am almost always too lazy to get in touch with my inner self, I rely on its size to determine my mood for the day.

Today and for the last six weeks or so, I feel like crap. Needless to say, standing in front of the mirror every morning is like a punishment to me. I am like the dead woman knocking on heaven's door only to be rejected because of my sins. In my case of eating too much. My waist is expanding and I am seeing wrinkles on my face. God, it gives me the shivers.

I was flipping through old photos and it just dawned on me how much of a monster I have transformed in a span of 3 years. I used to look sweet and nice. I used to have that innocent smile on my face. I used to be that little girl who hops around with a piece of purple orchid dangling on my ear. I used to be carefree and cheerful and young and full of dreams... Alright that was going a little bit too much, I'm sorry. But you get my point.

And I'm guessing you know where I'm drivng at, don't you? I used to be that. Now I'm this. Urrgh. Plus the wrinkles and the extra inches on my waist. Total Sadness. :(

If you really want to know, irregularity is the best word that describes my life since I began my night job. On second thought, irregularity is even too fine for a description.

It sounded easy. I leave the house at night, away from the hustles and bustles of the city. I start my day while the others count sheeps. I go home when my dad's rooster is about to flap its wings. I sacrifice a little bit of my social life and save money at the same time. It truly sounded very fun. Or so I thought.

Three months after, I gained weight. I have pimples all over my face. I have frizzy hair.I miss taking showers once every week and I have no time to blog, thank you.

A friend once asked me, "Milktea, what's your vice?"

I replied, "Junk food." with embarrassment.

"Well then, if that's a vice, then I'm going to hell." she concluded.

That was a very comforting day.

I am dealing with a very annoying client lately. It is of utter sadness that I share to you that the tower of patience I painstakingly built all these years is slowly deconstructing when the thought of wanting to smack her begins knocking inside my head.

My idea of pleasure now constitutes of daydreaming that one day she would turn into a balloon so I can just use my magic needle to poke at her everytime she bugs me or I can just sit at her with my big ass and she'd go flat and empty in an instant.

Then again, if all my evil thoughts are to materialize, nobody is going to be alive at this moment or perhaps, everyone has a needle or two dangling down their butts (ha!ha!ha!) and my life wouldn't have been so miserable....

Life is not perfect, huh? So, give me some balloons or keep those needles away from me.