Counting blessings.

The sheer comfort of having a kindred spirit. Someone who shares your ideals, thoughts, likings, dislikes and yet, unique in everyway.

It is amazing how we mesh together. We certainly do not embarass one another (okay, maybe sometimes after the booze) and in spite of the crude name calling, our mutual respect is indisputable. I love you babe, you’re my best friend forever and ever.

I have a propensity to gain weight at the wrong places. My major peeves are the herculean extensions of my body I call arms. No matter how much weight I lose, my arms will forever trick eyes into believing that I’m chubby. Weight trainning, rowing, pilates, slimming cream; you name it, I’ve done it. It’s fucking genetics, nuf’ said. Arrgh…the pity!

Second major peeves are my breasts and derrriere. In this case, they don’t grow. They just don’t. From the side, I look like a lamp post, albeit a thick one. Unless on days when I OD-ed on pork knuckles, visible to the eyes would be a relatively large pouch attached to my midriff.

Okay, I’ve vented. I’m fine. I hate my body but it’s my body. I’m glad I wasn’t born a potato.

Once, I had such an intense backpain for almost a month that I thought I wouldn’t walk. That was one emotional roller coaster.

Once, I fractured my wrist and I thought it won’t be normal anymore. Nerve racking.

Once, a jealous slow mutherfucker tripped me while we were racing to a checkpoint in a child’s game. My face went sliding a couple of metres down the cemented ground. I healed and thank goodness my young skin did not allow any obvious scar to show.

All these reminiscences are making me grateful.

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