Proper food is the cure to all ills, I have always maintained. But I admit “proper” is highly debatable.
In my case, it is usually dairy crack, heaps of pasta, and an abundance of chicken wings.
The bingeing is supposed to be occasional but has been regular these last months, my eating habits a delicious lawless wasteland.
In hindsight, it would have been better to watch it since my physical activity amounts to zero. But I guess eating like a maniac is my favorite form of coping.
After training in Legacy Boracay earlier this year, I injured my right wrist. My left wrist followed a couple of months later.
At this point, I abandoned my fitness routine as something tells me my right or left leg will only follow my sidelined upper limbs. This something being my twisted outlook on training harboring on obsession. Which does not help me at all.
But there is always a time for everything and now the feasting is coming to a close.
With my wrists feeling better, I return to Legacy Boracay in a few days and pay for every single slice of pizza I have wolfed down.
I regret nothing.