Dance- auditions, masterclasses, rehearsals, regular classes, stretching, teaching, watching ballets. Heart on fire and fluttering.
Food- pasta, chicken rice, laksa, mixed vegetables rice, medium-rare steak, bread, ice cream, milo, sweeeeet fruits, bak kwa, buffets. Essentially everything that I love. Salivating.
RA- chest x-ray, Mantoux test, which leads right up to the start of biologics.
Except that they are all in my dreams. And even though it’s the only time when I can ‘indulge’ in things that I long to do or have, let’s just say that all of them turned out to be more like nightmares, or pretty unreal to an extent.
Less-than-mediocre performance with utter embarrassment in ballet auditions and rehearsals, unbelievable flexibility that I never had in reality. Bingeing on everything that I’ve been depriving myself of, devouring portions and portions of them, being thrown back into the vicious bulimic cycle, and gaining weight again(BIGGEST NIGHTMARE EVER). Prepping for the start of biologics, but failing the Mantoux test because I have latent TB, prolonging my already-long wait for biologics.
Those, are my dreams every night. I’m not sure if I should be laughing or crying. But the food nightmares are the MOST TERRIFYING of them all. Distressed? Hell yeah.
Relying on my tactile sense, rather than my sense of sight, to dictate if I’ve lost weight, gained weight or maintained. Because I’ve learnt that mirrors and reflections make you disillusioned. All the mirrors I’ve looked at suddenly became convex mirrors, and I’ve suddenly become such an ugly and fat whale. Maybe I am one? Numericals on the scale? Well they make sense sometimes, but they blatantly lie most of the times. Feeling the coxa bones, the ribs, the collarbones, the vertebrae… Feeling the looseness of my bottoms hanging off my hips… Grasping my ass to find that they are no longer that ‘perky'(which by the way really means huge)… So much better ain’t it?
But sigh, still wholly consumed by the same old issue. Just that it has morphed from one into another. I cannot decide if I was more miserable then, or if I’m more miserable now. But it sure has saved my pocket and waistline from a lot of grief. Erm, yay? I want to break free, yet somehow a small part of me is still clinging onto it tightly.
Waiting for a change in plan and action. No change- no thank you and good bye forever. Change- thank you and let’s trudge on together. Well they get to decide. I’ve said my piece, after bottling up my frustration for a long while. If they decide to remain indifferent, then I guess I deserve better.
Whatever the case, won’t you just let me be?
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