I'm so fucking sick of caring.

468 calories from 3 scoops of Movenpick Hazelnut ice-cream, 525 calories from a lunch of bread and scones, 486 calories from a breakfast of pizza?

Fuck it all. Fuck calories, dress sizes, flat tummies, skinny thighs, sharp noses. Outgoing, athletic, bronzed and confidently cool? That's something I never will be. I'l always be ugly, stumpy and miserable: a pinched-faced girl with an over-the-top obsession with calories, fats and her appearance.

I stopped on the weighing scale just now a while after ingesting all that ice-cream, cajoling the needle to go up further. Come on, I thought, I know you want to creep higher....

It's either that I've gone crazy (talking to a weighing scale needle), or that this weight thing has really gotten to my head. Either way, it means I'm pathetic.

I don't know when exactly I'm in control. When I don't eat, I'm said to be out of control, 'controlled by this diet of yours'. When I DO eat, I feel like I've lost control, because half the time, I eat because I FEEL like it, and not because I'm really hungry. I'm greedy; I'm a glutton who can't restrain herlsef. Place a tub of ice-cream before me and I wolf it down before you can get your spoon; make me walk by a bakery and I emerge with 2 raisin scones, 1 pita bread, and 1 multigrain roll for lunch; get my mind fixated on a craving like pizza and I stay up for two hours, insomniac, because I'm so excited about eating it the next day.

Oh, I know. By now, you must be thinking how pathetic I am.

It's okay. I know I'm pathetic. I think I'm pathetic. To the extent that I think I hate myself.

How is it that some girls can stand in front of the mirror, look at their bodies and shrug at their love handles, the pudge at their tummies, and their thighs glued to each other? How is it that they can find it within themselves to love themselves the way they are, when they know perfection is out there, already achieved by a slight minority? They say perfection does not exist, but hello, open your fucking eyes: Gisele Bundchen, Heidi Klum, Angelina Jolie, Jessica Alba, Cameron Diaz....

If these people can look so fucking good, why can't I? In what way am I lesser than them? In that they love themselves more than I appreciate myself?

It'll be 2008 soon in about half an hour's time. I don't see what's so great about it. Sure, this year I've got a lot to be thankful for:

* LIST OF THINGS I'M THANKFUL FOR IN 2007:

1. That everyone I love is alive and safe.

2. That they're still around me.

3. That my grades - though not fantastic and still needs some polishing up - are decent enough.

4. That I'm safe and alive.

5. That I just got to do some major shopping for CNY next year and have amassed four sets of clothes from Mango and Esprit combined.

6. That my country is prosperous and brimming with the potential that's about to be tapped by capable, clean and far-sighted leaders.

But. There's always a 'but', isn't there? We just always seem to want some more. Contentment is never our middle name - not even our friend - and there is always something that can be improved upon:

* LIST OF WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN BETTER ABOUT 2007:

1. When the hell did I stop loving myself and made myself punish me for having ice-cream?

2. School. It is said that by raising your expectations or lowering your reality, your happiness quotient falls. Self explanatory.

3. Either I'm becoming more attention-seeking, or people can't be bothered with whiny, miserable, pathetic me anymore. During this year-end holidays, I went out alone six times without any company. Everyone's just too busy, aren't they. They always are.

* WHAT I NEED TO DO FROM 12AM ONWARDS:

1. Show my love for those I love. Leave them in no doubt that I love them. (Never mind if they don't always seem to reciprocate.)

2. Be happier. This is tougher than it sounds. Because this then leads to the next question: what exactly makes me happy? And part (b): when do I realise I'm happy?

3. Say 'fuck yourself' to the next person who comments on my weight, shape, figure, appearance - my inadequacies, in general. You wanna criticise me, take a good fucking look at yourself fist. Besides, who gave you the right to comment about me? I sure didn't. So shut the hell up. I get enough grieve from myself.

4. Be friendlier. People - too many of them - say (or think; they might not articulate it, but I can tell by the way they behave around me) that I look, or maybe behave too standoffish. Look, I don't go around with an inane smile permanently plastered to my face, okay? What's there to smile at, too? This world is so screwed up, it makes it hard to smile upon request.

But, that's just the ice-queen in me talking again, I suppose. Guilty.

5. Have more discipline, for fuck's sake. That means in terms of diet (stop eating when you're full, even if the food looks really good; stuffing your fat face with another gratuitous serving of food just makes you seem more like the loser that you already are), exercise, studies and money. Just about in every aspect, in other words. I hate doling out punishment - or worse, making excuses - for myself. So to prevent that from even happening, I should stop at the stage BEFORE: the stage when I decide to indulge.

I shall ask myself if I DESERVE it.

DESERVE. It's simple enough to tell yourself you deserve another scone. Hey, I just burnt a few hundred calories from that power-walk around town! It's easy enough to allow yourself to treat you to a chocolate bar. Come on, I just went five hours without fuel man!

But to deserve something, don't we then deserve the punishment that comes from it? Nothing comes for nothing, after all. Or is this yet another chicken-and-egg conundrum?

The trick is to fall into a routine existence. I don't - won't - have that ice-cream becasue I generally do not indulge in such high-fat foods after a meal, or worse: in between my meals.

Willpower is elusive. The trick is to capture it, and then slip it right into your existence to make sure it never slips away again.

5. Work hard. I have an IQ of 127 (from the online quiz I took yesterday night). If I don't make use of it, there's pretty much nothing else that I CAN actually do to make me feel like I am worthy of my existence, that I'm worthy of a place on this earth, in the hearts of those who love me (even if the number might be kind of small).

6. Be better?

What IS better?

It seems like I'm entering 2008 just as clueless as I have been in 2007.

Do I sound ungrateful, because I don't mean to be a party-pooper.

But do pardon me for not being so chipper at the moment. Seems like the endorphins from the ice-cream aren't doing their job: they seem to be causing a reverse effect on me.

Have a fulfilling 2008.