35h 57m 15s Before the Second War Begins

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4:21:13 AM: Sleepless

Still unaccustomed to regular sleeping hours, my body won’t cooperate with my desire to sleep. Believe me, I’ve tried hours ago. I’ve already raised a sheep farm, but still no trips to Dreamland. In the end, I pumped some life into ol’ Mr. Laptop, and exhausted Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and Thought Catalog. Still. No. Sleep. What’s a girl to do then? Well, this girl started to put life into restless thoughts. That’s why I’m here merrily typing away. I’m not even sure if the words I’ve strung together make much sense. Lol. I think it’s high time for one semester’s worth of memories, life lessons, and everyday randomness get immortalized in virtual ink. Come walk with me down memory lane (it’s not that long, I promise).

May 2013: Awakening

Third year med school had officially begun. After the previous year’s sluggishness, it was time to wake up from my low-key academic and personal life. I knew (as soon as the 3rd Year Level coordinator’s words filled the air) that this year would be mighty different from its predecessor. It would be more nerve-wracking, more demanding, more emotionally and physically draining, more terrifying. Added to these is the knowledge that we’re a step closer to the coveted 2-letter prestige. Hello, pressure! But yeah, thank you for pointing out that I might be spouting exaggerated fears and expectations about the coming months–that my imagination and pessimistic tendencies might be in overdrive. We’ll just have to see about that. Pfft! But anyway, Welcome to 3rd Year Medicine! Boofreakingyeah.

June-July 2013: Take-off

At this point in time, Fear now gave way to Adaptation. Hey, there’s no time to cower in your boots if you’ve got exams every third week of the month, right? Everyone needs to push, push, push. They say that it’s wiser to do better this early on than suffer the pains of compensation later on. To survive, us students/zombies would badly need our “brain kit.” This contains caffeine, alarm clocks, highlighters, and endless supply of paper and ink. A major bonus would be friends who would unwaveringly battle with us against sleep.

Despite the inflow of paperworks and lists to study, we do take time offs. This is ABSOLUTELY a must if we are to keep sane. For this, friends and family come in handy. Exhibit A: study sessions turned to storytime, snack time and snoozefest. Exhibit B: family dinners and little trips. They make stress so much more bearable to live with. Period.

Oh, and during this time? I’d be happy to tell you that I started to get to know le batchmates a little bit better. The caterpillar in me has to go and morph into a social butterfly too, right? Haha!

August-September: Flight

Turbulence. I think this single word sums up both months quite perfectly. First semester’s almost up. People (those average mortals which include me, btw) are already worrying about pulling up grades. This is pretty much the cause of even more frequent (fine, everyday) visits to the only café in the area, sleepless nights, and occasional emotional breakdowns (yes, some tear ducts are definitely more susceptible to stress than others).

This is also when we thanked God (or thought there must be one if the person is a non-believer) for giving us classmates (aka., group mates, friends, study buddies, special friends, extra-special friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, etc.). Major components of the aforementioned survival kit. ‘Nuff said.

5:25:13 AM: Still Sleepless 

I knew writing would be effective. I. Just. Knew. It. I feel my eyelids getting heavier by the letter, but the show must go on until the curtains close. So where was I? Oh yeah, the end.

The previous months have undeniably been one helluva physical, mental and emotional roller coaster for me. I can admittedly say that I AM TIRED…BUT. Yes, there has to be a big BUT (no pun intended). But the only option is to KEEP GOING FORWARD. Yes, I know. This is too cliché for your taste, but it’s the simplest way to describe my chosen plan of action. I’m going to need a LOT more cups of coffee, mountains of pens, and tons of brain power. It’s going to be more difficult, but I’m a stubborn lady. I’m going to fight with every nerve fiber, muscle fiber and all other fibers of my being. Lol. Oh and don’t forget that I have a special set of people beside me. I’m ready. Let the second half of this bloody war begin! RAWR! 😉

6:03:45 AM: Good (Morn)night!

Snip It!

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Life is too short, so jump right in and you just might surprise yourself.

3rd of May 2013, Friday (3:30PM)

A large mirror stood in front of me–allowing me a view of the entire place abuzz with activity. In the middle of the hubbub was me. My long dark hair was dripping wet and smelling like flowers while I was sitting on a black swivel chair. I was draped in protective cloth from the neck down. I was fidgeting with my hands, waiting. In a few minutes, I’m about to undergo metamorphosis.

*Click clack click clack* She arrived, armed with a smile and various tools.

What can I do for you today?

*White noise*  That was my mind coming up with a blank for an answer. The finality of my decision has not hit me until that question. In a moment of panic, I asked my sister, mom and dad to come over–a good call on my part. Within minutes, everything was set.

*Snip snip snip snip* So black, so many, too far gone. It was too late to go back now. I can only sit there, watch them fall to the floor, and wait for the end.

It’s done. You can look now.

*Silence* *Gasp* *Silence* Gone were the long dark tresses I nurtured for four years. In its place, a short black bob. I was waiting for regret to come, but it didn’t. I felt impulsive and giddy and young. Who knew that a haircut can lift one’s spirits a whole lot?

*Clink* That was the sound of the salon’s doors as I left feeling utterly satisfied. I’ve got a new haircut, I’m feeling badass, and I’m ready to take on the world. :>

Put A Ring On It

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What’s a girl to do when she gets left behind by the train headed for Dreamland at three o’clock in the morning?

A. Lie still in bed, close eyes, and wait for the next train to come

B. Disturb her fluffy little dog’s dreams of bones and little doggie treats

C. Pump some life into her laptop, enter the realms of the World Wide Web, and find this: http://juliewillyoumarry.me/

ANSWER: C–And don’t pretend you didn’t see that coming. Lol

So what’s this all about? Read on.

***

I think I’m right in saying that every girl had, at one point in her life, imagined how her Prince Charming would get down on one knee and ask the one question that changes her life in a big, BIG way. For some, the perfect proposal is walking down the street holding hands with her guy plus hundreds of other people who suddenly dance to a romantic tune, and answering with a resounding ‘YES!’ after guy goes down on one knee for The Question. For others still, it’s whilst cuddling on the couch, and watching Richard Gere (with a bunch of flowers between his teeth) climb all the way up to Julia Roberts’s window to win his lady love in Pretty Woman. Two totally different settings, yes, but not one any less sincere than the other. I guess, what it all boils down to is the utmost desire of a man to spend his lifetime with the woman he loves–so much so that he is willing to open himself up to vulnerability and the possibility of rejection.

To tell you honestly, I’ve tried (and boy, did I really try) to picture out how my own proposal would go down countless times. And guess what? I still don’t have the details in my head. Do I want it in public for all to see, or in private shared only by him and me? Do I want it in broad beautiful daylight, or on a moonlit magical night? Do I end up with a conventional bright diamond on my hand, or a simple and pretty stone he bought because it reminds him of me, or a centuries-old family heirloom passed down from his ancestors? Do I say YES immediately, or do I get overwhelmed by tears unable to do anything but nod and kiss him to let him know that I accept his suit? Quite a LOT of questions in exchange for one important question, don’t you think? But hey, I’m a girl and that’s what girls do: over-think and over-ask. Lol.

On a more serious note though, I know that when the moment comes all these details would not matter much at all. What would definitely count is that my own Prince Charming would want to marry me because he loves me, and because he wants to build a future with me and ONLY ME. ♥

Bathroom Musings

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First, let me just shout out, “It’s awfully good to be back!” Saying I missed writing would be an injustice to what I have been feeling. Now craving? Yes! Craving would definitely suffice.

Anyway, let’s get to the matter at hand. I’ve actually been thinking a lot about writing this entry since the beginning of the year. I had started several times with a string of words, but each time, I’d end up with cold fingers and a blubbering mind. I don’t exactly know why. I guess I just can’t find the right words to express what I’ve been feeling. This time though, I am [determined] to see this through. I shall finish this by hook or by crook…

***

You know how people almost always get struck with the most random of thoughts while in the sanctuary of their bathrooms? Oh you know, while brushing their teeth, fixing their hair or make up, answering the call of–you get the picture. Well, I just had yet another one of those moments.

As I was taking a shower, it just dawned on me how having a lot of time in your hands could definitely make you think–really think. Care to delve into the murky waters that are my thoughts? Read on. I must warn you though. This could get a little melodramatic.

In the past four years, I’ve been too busy with college then med school to really have the pleasure of sitting down, and having a serious time alone with my thoughts. In the span of these four years, I had always been busy trying to split my time between chasing good grades, bonding with my family and hanging out with my friends. I had, in that short period of time, forgotten one person–me. I was so preoccupied with life that I walked on by without pausing to take a closer look inside.

This year is different though. Why, you ask? This year, I’ve hit a bump on the road. To say I was surprised with what life had just handed me is an understatement. It had most definitely taken away plenty, but it had equally given me something in return.

To tell you honestly, I had resented it at first–the havoc it had wreaked in my plans, the sadness it had planted in my heart, the uncertainty it had created in my mind, the weariness it had caused in my soul. But, like all things with time, this resentment had met with acceptance. I only had two choices after all. It was either to continue to ask myself questions that I know would only yield the same answers, or to get up, put on my game face and move forward. I had chosen the latter, lucky girl that I am, but I couldn’t have done that without help from those who knew me–who knew my heart.

I guess that this experience had given me more than a big, black, bad bruise, so to speak. It had brought me time–time that I couldn’t afford to spare before. It had allowed me an opportunity to learn, to rediscover who I am. It had, cliché as this may be, led me to believe that everything DOES happen for a REASON.

Without this, it may have taken me quite some time to figure out how fortunate I am. Instead of getting tut-tuts and bitter disappointment from my family, I was showered with support and understanding. Instead of feeling alone and dejected, I got companionship and a sense of belonging from my friends. Instead of harboring fear and doubt, I found courage and determination.

I realized that failure is inevitable–that it would, sooner or later, catch up with me. I’m not invincible, nor am I perfect. I’m just me. While I cannot control the surprises that life would offer me, I most certainly know what I am capable of doing. I was given heart, mind and soul. I am not without ammunition. With all three, I feel like a warrior princess–I AM A WARRIOR PRINCESS. With all three, I am determined to get through this, to emerge a stronger and better person.♥

Lupang Hinirang

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Lupang Hinirang

by Julian Felipe

Bayang magiliw, perlas ng silanganan.

Alab ng puso, sa dibdib mo’y buhay.

Lupang hinirang, duyan ka ng magiting

Sa manlulupig, di ka pasisiil.

“I am proudly Filipino.” A hundred–no, make that a thousand and more–times I’ve heard myself say this line. But what does it truly mean to be proud of one’s race? Of one’s lineage? Of one’s heritage? Is this what they all call patriotism? Can it be measured only through words or be proved only by heroic deeds? Or is it something you just cannot limit to several paragraphs? A beacon as bright as day itself persistently burning in your mind? A force as unstoppable as every beat of your heart? I know not, but I am certain that in order to fully comprehend or somehow grasp it, one has to know his homeland.

Sa dagat at bundok, sa simoy ay

sa langit mong bughaw,

may dilag ang tula at awit

sa paglayang minamahal.

Over two weeks ago, I was given a chance to become a tourist in my own country. “How?” you ask. My mom had a visitor who came from Canada. She stayed for almost two weeks to take a break from all the demands of her busy life. During one of the times my mom and Cheryl (yep, that’s her name) were talking, the word “tour” came up. Fast-forward to a few days later, my mom had offered to take our visitor on a tour of several places in the country. Having no classes at the time, I was able to join in two out of the five days they’d be touring. One of the places we visited was the town of Taal, Batangas. There, we were given a glimpse of what the Philippines in the 1800s was like (Note: Back then, the Philippines was under the reign of Spaniards. If you don’t already know, my country was Spain’s colony for 333 years, so there’s quite a lot of Castillan influence going on.) We went to several ancestral houses, museums and plenty of old churches. Everywhere I look, stories abound. It was there in every piece of antique furniture, every page of yellowed books and letters, every crack in the stone-laden floors of centuries-old structures, every color masterfully applied to portraits that depicted the era’s everyday life, every smell and taste of the town’s own cuisine. No words could speak of my fascination, but the spark in my eyes gave voice to the awe I couldn’t keep bottled up inside.

Ang kislap ng watawat mo’y 

tagumpay na nagniningning.

Ang bituin at araw niya

kailan pa ma’y di magdidilim.

Seeing fragments of my nation’s history made me appreciate who I am more. It had fueled the fire of pride I was feeling for the men and women who made my country what it is today. It transported me back to a time when life was quaint, but not entirely easy. It opened my eyes to a profound moment in history when the Filipinos’ love for their country fanned the embers of revolution aimed at sovereignty. It had, in a nutshell, explained what being a Filipino (Pinoy) is all about.

Lupa ng araw, ng lualhati’t pagsinta, 

buhay ay langit sa piling mo.

Aming ligaya ng pag may mang-aapi,

ang mamatay ng dahil sa iyo.

A Letter To My Prince Charming

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My beloved Prince,

If you’re reading this now, I’d have you know that while writing this, I have no idea of your identity. Either I haven’t met you yet, or you haven’t made yourself known. Nevertheless, the fact that you’re reading this means that something is amiss. I’m not scaring you or anything. I just took this chance to tell you about me–or rather, the girl you fell in love with.

Why?

Because years from now, a lot of things would have already happened. You probably have swept me off my feet, and whisked me to your castle already. We might have produced princes who have your hair, and/or princesses who have my eyes. In short, we’re probably already living in the aftermath of happily ever after–that never been told story of what happens after the princess had kissed the frog, or after the brave knight had slain the dragon. By now, we might already be facing the next chapter of our lives. A chapter wherein the glow of true love has dimmed, and a thick wall of trials has started to drive us apart.

So hear me out and let me reacquaint you with the person you fell in love with one happily ever after ago.

I talk a lot, but I can be silent if need be. By now, you’ve probably discovered that I have a penchant for words. I love to talk. About me, about you, about us and everything else in the world. I would probably scald your ears with my endless chatter, so if you’re having a rough day or want your blessed silence, tell me. I can be content with staying silent and just holding your hand for the rest of the car ride. If (unfortunately for you) I do get into one of my black moods due to work or PMS or some other stuff, do bear with me please. In times like this, a hug would most definitely be welcome.

I do smile. A lot. While the stress of being a working mother (yes, you’d know that I would be spending eight or so hours a day trying to make life better for people with illnesses AND you’re okay with that) would definitely make it a bit hard to elicit a little ray of sunshine from me, it is not impossible. Within me is a little girl that finds joy in the simplest of things (one of the reasons why you probably found me lovable. Lol). Flowers or a simple breakfast in bed on a hectic morning would turn my frown upside down, and earn you points.

I’m a hopeless romantic. A kiss before we leave for work would make my day. Holding my hands while we cross the street would make me feel safe. Keeping me in the confines of your arms before and while we sleep would wipe all my world-weariness and tiredness away. Three magic words softly whispered with sincerity would set my heart aflutter. So you see? Grand gestures are not really needed, but hey, you won’t hear me complaining about ’em. 😉

I can compromise. Let’s face it. Along the road, we would definitely be facing a lot of battles–against others and even between us two. Our little lovers’ quarrels can be resolved without having to go for each other’s jugulars. We can both spare ourselves from unwanted, hurtful and regrettable words. All we need is a little bit of silence, two pairs of ears and a lot of understanding. I cannot promise you that I wouldn’t be difficult (because I really could be trying at times), but I can assure you that I’m willing to work things out no matter what it may cost me. Do me a favor and promise me that we won’t go to bed with a pile of pillows and a mountain of resentment between us. I wish for our days to end with hands entwined and smiles on our faces.

I forgive easily. In the course of our marriage, there would of course be the occasional case of forgotten anniversaries, birthdays and other such important dates. You don’t have to worry about my memory. It’s really yours I’m not sure about just yet. Lol. There may also be the coming home late after a night out with your buddies or other trivial matters. Needless to say, a simple sorry and a humble acknowledgement of your transgression would do. I’m easy (I shouldn’t be admitting this..but what the heck, I’m crazy about you). You won’t even have to grovel MUCH. Lying or God forbid, cheating though? I assure you that I wouldn’t take the easy way out by asking for a divorce, but this would DEFINITELY leave you with A LOT of groveling to do. Oh and by the way? It would cost you a lot of dinner for two at our favorite place, dozens and dozens of my favorite flowers, and a bunch of other stuff. 😉

Making you fall in love everyday for the rest of our lives is included in my To-do list. Being the prince that you are, you believe that it’s your job to shield me from the wicked witch’s poisonous apple–that it’s your job as a man to become my heart’s protector. While I have no objections to these, let me remind you that we are living in a modern fairytale. In case you don’t know, I also have wifely duties other than standing still and looking pretty for you and your loyal subjects to see. As your partner (in every way that matters), it is my duty to ease the burdens on your shoulders. It is my commitment to be there for when you return to our kingdom, wounded and in need of care. Above all, it is my chosen path to stay by your side, and walk with you wherever life may lead us.

And last, but not the least..

I love you. This is, by far, the most important fact that you have to get through your thick head. In agreeing to spend forever with you, I have given you not only my heart but my soul as well. I may have given you trouble while you were pursuing my affections, but rest assured, I am the type of lady who loves deeply, honestly and irrevocably. Intense, I know. But I know myself. I know that when I finally offer my heart, there would be no taking it back. Not even when our hairs have turned gray and we’re nearing the end of our days (and probably not even beyond that).

So there you have it. I know this letter won’t fix everything, but I hope this can be the start. I hope that this would make you see that no matter how much we’ve grown apart, we could always find our way back to each other. The storybook may tell us that happy ending is the only choice, but I know that with you, there would be a lot more than that. There would be no endings, but plenty of beginnings. Above all, there would be happiness and love. Here’s to the rest of our lives together! ♥ 

Irrevocably yours,

Rachelle 

Payphone

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I’m at a payphone trying to call home…

Just two weeks ago, I’ve had a really bad case of panic attack due to sheer negligence of my phone. That day, I went to the mall with my mom and brother. There, the three of us went our separate ways–she, to meet a client in a nearby coffee shop, and my brother, to spend his tokens at an arcade.

So there I was..alone. To pass the time, I decided to just have my legs waxed (quite painful, yes but it’s one of the many perks of being a girl). It was going to be a quick errand, but thirty minutes turned to an hour or so. I was supposed to head back to the coffee shop so the three of us could go home together. But alas! When I got there… poof! They’re gone. I wasn’t really worried about my safety or anything. I can go home all by myself, but knowing my mom.. *gasp* Yes, she’ll probably be worried to no end.

So why was all of this so distressing?

My phone.

My sometimes too-preoccupied brain hadn’t realized that I left my phone at home before it was too late; thereby, leaving me with no means of communication.

Who knew that one little square of a metal box would cause me (not to mention my mom) this much stress? I’ve tried searching for the two of them everywhere, but to no avail. I returned to the coffee shop several times in hopes of finding them, but nope. No sign of them.

Resigned to my phone-less and soon-to-be scolded fate, I sat down and thought. I thought of how I’d reach my mom to inform her of where I am–that I’m still in the mall, and that they need not worry about receiving ransom notes and such.

Ping! I just got an idea.

I rushed to the nearest bathroom and there I found my holy grail–a payphone. After a sparing a few loose change, and waiting for a few minutes, this little fiasco of mine finally died down. I got home.

Thank God for payphones!

But really? With this incident, I realized that I’ve gotten too dependent on technology. I mean, who here hasn’t got their whole week (or month, even) planned and handled by little handheld devices? Or their career at the mercy of their laptops?

Don’t get me wrong. I love, love, love gadgets. Being up-to-date isn’t bad or anything, but I guess what I’m trying to say is that we should try to see beyond the flat and lit up screens of modernity. A lot of good this would do to our eyes (and pockets).

Note to self? Add this to existing bucket list:

105. Spend a whole day devoid of modern technology. 😉

Love and Other Drugs

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I’ve always wondered what it’s like to fall in love. Is it what smitten lovebirds claim it to be? You know, that heady feeling that leaves you singing sweet melodies, dancing to that music in your head, and doodling your name with his on your notepad? Or is it, as wounded hearts would say, highly overrated?

Just this Saturday, I’ve gotten a glimpse of [love] being a double edged sword. And no, fortunately (or unfortunately), I didn’t fall in love this weekend. I went to a mental institution with my classmates instead. There, we were divided into groups with each group given one psychiatric patient to interview. You can only imagine how wild the butterflies were fluttering in my stomach. Even though we’ve done this in the past year, I still couldn’t help but feel excited and nervous both at the same time.

So there we were.. sitting in a circle and waiting for our patient to arrive. We were reviewing our notes on proper Psychiatric history taking when our patient was ushered to his seat. He was your average guy–medium height, medium built, clean-cut black hair. What caught my eye though was the tattoo on his left biceps. It was a name of a woman surrounded by red roses and a few stray thorns. Little did I know, that name held the answers to our plethora of questions.

After introductions were made, we then began our interview. We found out that our patient (let’s call him Mr. X) was admitted to the institution for attempting suicide. When asked why, he told us that he had no reason to live anymore. With this bit of info, we were hooked. We were like fish to a bait–not stopping until we got what we wanted. We continued to press him for details.

Mr. X was merely 13 years old, the era of peer pressure, when he had first gotten hold of illegal drugs. He was introduced to the vice by his friends. He admitted to regularly giving in to this past time even after having finally gotten the girl of his dreams. His Marlene. 

Mr. X and his Marlene had known each other since they were children. They were neighbors, and as years went by, his childhood crush had turned into full blown feelings of great proportions. Not surprisingly, they had become a couple at the age of 16. Like any normal teenagers, they went out on dates, got into lovers’ tiffs, and shared a few kisses. They were, according to him, happy and very much in love.

While their relationship continued to blossom, the same can be said of his drug addiction. His parents weren’t going to let their little boy fall into the hands of a killer. Their solution? Have him enter a maritime academy. Upon arriving at the school, he was left with no access to drugs for the first time in a long while because:

1) the students weren’t allowed to leave the campus until graduation rolls in, and

2) the school had very watchful eyes.

This didn’t bode well for Mr. X. With nothing left to do but study and think of the girl he left at home, he began to court trouble. He got into all sorts of scrapes over the most mundane of things. His temper always flared whenever talks of girlfriends arose. Ah! And therein lies the rub. Girlfriends.

Mr. X claimed that his classmates would always tell him about how his girlfriend would leave him at any given day. Instead of doing the wise thing by walking away, he responded with his fists. For all his frustrations and loneliness, he gave and received black eyes and a broken nose. If this went on a little bit longer, he probably would have gotten something other than bruises. After deliberation, he was sent home for a respite. And rest he did. Being at home calmed his frayed nerves, and removed much of the sadness that was chasing his soul. All was well which is why his father decided to send him back to school.

Upon returning to the academy, Mr. X had tried to avoid fights. And tried..and tried. But it seemed his old demons were back. He still had a temper to reckon with especially where the words girlfriend and leaving him were concerned. Despite his penchant for unrest, he had managed to graduate. He was finally free to go home to find his heart–gone.

As it turned out, his Marlene left for greener pastures–taking with her the heart of the man who had loved her since he was naught but a skinny kid.

Her leaving not only shattered all his dreams of a future with the woman who has resided in his heart for so long, but his soul–his reason for living. Instead of living his dreams of becoming a seaman with his wife and kids waiting for his return, what he had become was a man with no purpose. Left with nothing but despair, he had decided to take his own life. He jumped from the window of a four-story building intending to meet his doom. But Fate wasn’t having any of it. He survived.

After months of hearing voices and multiple suicide attempts later, he was finally brought to this mental institution. And as our interview came to a close, we couldn’t resist asking one more question,

“Do you still think of her?”

To this, he closed his eyes, and let silence fill the air.

“Not anymore.” Eight years. It’s been eight, long years.

While his words spoke of what his mind wanted to happen, his eyes couldn’t hide the truth. For while he wished to erase all the hurt he was harboring, his heart couldn’t let go–just as his eyes couldn’t seem to let his tears fall.

That night, I lay awake in bed and thought of what I saw–a man who had dared. But what had he gotten in return?

A broken heart, an empty soul and a troubled mind.

Not a very enticing picture love has painted, is it?

I’m not worried though. I’m waiting. I’m anticipating that day when I have to open my heart, and let someone in. This man has taught me that no matter how hard you’ve landed, you always, always have a choice. You can wallow in the mud, or pick yourself up (mud and all) and walk the long road. Your happiness doesn’t entirely rest in the hands of another soul. It’s always there within you–waiting for such time when you’ve gathered enough courage to seize it, to hold it close to your heart and never let go.

To A Healthier Me And Beyooooond!

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Orange peelings on a Tuesday morning

Just recently, I’ve started this diet plan called The Right Approach. Before I began with the program, my coach gauged my body weight, body age, and all other data needed as basis for evaluation of the results. Basically, this works by telling me to eat the right portions at the right time.

1. Carbs: Good-bye, pasta! Au revoir, pizza! Unfortunately, this diet requires me to really limit my carbs intake. It has to have the least amount present during mealtimes. To make sure I have the right portion, I only have to curl my hand as if to catch a butterfly.

Carbs Contentment

2. Protein: I need quite a lot of these just like those bodybuilders in the gym. The size of my fisted hand will be the measure of the amount I’m allowed to eat.

Protein Power

3. Vegetables: It’s a good thing I’ve left behind my childhood nightmare about these babies, or else I’ll be doomed. To conform with the plan, I have to eat as many vegetables as the size of my palm.

Veggie-ful

4. Exercise: What’s a diet without a dose of sweat? While this program does work without much exercise, the results would be more spectacular with it. It doesn’t have to be heavy and very strenuous. A little jogging 10-20 minutes a day will definitely go a long way.

5. Discipline: Stick with the plan. Without control, then all my efforts will be for naught. If I want to attain the body I’ve always wanted, I have to be diligent. And hey, being healthier is a nice reward for efforts made, don’t you think? I, for one, would like to see my hair turn silver, sit by the fire, and tell my grandkids endless tales of my youth.

Well, it’s been a week since Day One.  I must say that I’ve both been a tad surprised ,and quite satisfied with the results. Let’s see what three more weeks have in store for me. 🙂