4 minutes to the next train at 7.50 p.m. In Raffles Place. Now, I know there are people amongst us fortunate enough to knock off on time every day, but there is also a sizeable portion of people who don't. While I prefer to work past 9, 10 on days that I have to stay so that I can take a cab back and claim for it, there are also days on which I simply cannot stay any longer in the office for fear of my sanity being shot to pieces. On such days, I have no choice but to take the MRT back because I am too miserly to foot the cab fare myself.
So there I was, thinking maybe the train wouldn't be that insufferably crowded; and while it wasn't insufferably crowded when it arrived, thanks to the 4 long minutes it took to arrive, during which the train at the opposite platform had already arrived and vomited out its passengers who then proceeded to cross the platform to wait for MY train, by the time it stopped and was filled with people, it became insufferably crowded.
What was even weirder was that when I got off at Clementi to collect my tennis stuff from the guy that I ordered them from, then got back on around 15 minutes later, it was even more crowded than my journey there.
WHY is that so? WHY isn't bloody SMRT increasing the frequency of the trains? Something has to be quite wrong when I can be waiting at Newton at 9.10 a.m. (yeah I'm not the most punctual person on the planet) and TWO trains heading AWAY from the city passes before the train heading TO the city actually arrives, by which time there would be so many people on board that I can't even squeeze myself onto the train. Nor do I want to, actually. There's little much I hate more than being jampacked like sardines with half of Singapore, half of whom are sweaty and smelly and disgusting, into a very, very small space.
I don't even want to get started on the inconsiderate nature (nature!) and tendencies of Singaporeans, how they hoard the reserved seats when there are obviously elderly people around, sometimes even very pregnant women standing just in front of them, because I've bitched and moaned about this ten million times before and it's not going to change anything, so I'll just leave it at that.
On another note, I'm genuinely disgusted that I felt my thighs touching each other everytime I wasn't standing up absolutely straight.
Man, I can't believe how much weight I've put on. While the skeleton that became me on or around the start of 2007 wasn't the sexiest sight to behold, I think I'd take THAT over this elephant that has taken over my body. Okay, I exaggerate a fair bit, but seriously, I am repulsed by myself. Do you know how sad that is? Do you know how annoying it is for Wei Chuen to keep hearing about how fat I am? Something has to be done about this travesty.
But somehow, I've lost all my weight-loss resolve that I possessed in spades four years ago, when I successfully shed 8 kilos. Now I'm just greedy, and lazy, and unmotivated, and therefore fat. The size of the tummy is alarming, as is the decreasing length of the gap between my thighs. One day I'd wake up to find my thighs touching - by which time my life would clearly be over.
Also, I'm not sure if the extra kilos (excessive weight added on to my ideal weight) is because of me putting on weight, or because of tennis. I'm pretty sure I've put on some muscle from the weekly tennis sessions, which is also apparent by how fat my arms have become. If that's the case, then I wouldn't be so hung up about the actual weight, what the weighing scale tells me when I step onto it.
But the fats really have got to go. I hate being unable to fit into clothes that I could easily slip into a year ago. I'm genuinely disgusted. It's got to a point where I can't tell if I'm bloated, or just plain fat, anymore.
I mean, the very fact that I can't fit into XS Nike t-shirts anymore says A LOT.