I finally stepped on the scale this morning, and – insert ten thousand expletives here – I gained a kilo. ARGH!

Of course, I’ve only gone back to seriously working out and dieting for two days – and I haven’t even really been seriously dieting since I’ve been eating truckloads of chocolates and, today, I’ve said yes (- this is my problem, I always say yes) to lunch that involves ten thousand calories worth of carbs. Give me a break (- this is my other problem, I am perpetually giving myself a break), it’s at a new restaurant and it’s not likely that I will ever go back there again! (Unless it really is as good as they say. God, I’m hopeless.)

The thing is, I’ve still been working out. Well, maybe not consistently but more than most people I know (except Rosan but then she’s a freak) and my body still looks the same as when I didn’t work out so I’m thinking… why even bother?

Of course, I know the answer to that question too well: So that I don’t get any fatter. ARGH!

I’m beginning to lose hope.

Maybe I can’t change my body anymore. Maybe I should just throw in the towel. And maybe… leave it up to science? (Yes, I’d like a little nip-tuck here, here, here, here and here. Oh, and here.)

I joke about it all the time but I have also thought about it seriously. What stops me is that, well, first of all, I don’t have the money for it and, secondly, we’ve all seen those Hollywood celebrities who do have the money for it, yet have ended up looking more like they’ve had a face-drop instead of a face-lift. Their Madame Tussauds’ wax figures have more life than they do!

And then there is that minuscule but very real chance that I might end up belonging to that 1% (I’m making this figure up) that ends up dead on an operating table from a liposuction procedure. Ayyyy.

I think that’s way up on the list of “most embarrassing ways to die”. Number one would still be getting hit on the head with a coconut. Yes, in the Philippines, that is a very real possibility. And number two would probably be getting run over by a tricycle. Yes, only in the Philippines. A cosmetic procedure would come in at a very close third. Or would that place be reserved for choking on a fish bone? It’s a Philippine thing. Okay, it’s number one on the “tackiest ways to die” list.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t worry, I won’t be doing it.

Unless a sudden windfall comes my way. Then you can be sure that the next time you see me, I’ll have to hold up signs to let you know if I am sad or mad because I’ll be stretched so tight that I’ll be looking fucking glad all the time. I’ll have boobs to kingdom come and, if you look closely, I might have “Mattel” stamped on my ass.

I’M KIDDING.

Or am I?

Yeah, I woke up too early. I’ll let you know how lunch goes. After I try to work it all off at kettlebells and Krav Maga again later.