51kg

Illness always does wonder to my weight. I drop them so fast that it shocks me into wondering if I have other underlying problems. Just like how I lost 7kg when I had chickenpox as a teenager, and last year's gastric flu which cost me 3kg within a week. I don't usually weigh myself frequently but decided to yesterday morning and was shocked to read the scale.

I dropped 3kg in a week, which was the last time I weighed in front of Marcus, who insisted I do so when he found the bathroom scale. The lack of appetite from being overly tired looking after the sick boys on my own, and my own 2 or 3 days of feeling queasy, during which I ate like a bird worked the magic. For once in a long time, I couldn't even finish half a chinese bowl of rice.

Well, it ain't so bad. Now I can fit into that favourite pair of jeans I had since London time and a whole range of beautiful dresses and blouses I kept in storage.

I feel optimistic and cheerful this morning. Must be the endorphins from last night's workout. Indeed, so motivated am I that I started making arrangements this morning for a personal trainer to begin a gruelling regime. I have a shape in mind. Haha....