It's creeping

One thing about being in your forties is knowing that while you’re not that old, you’re no longer young either so you can’t just throw your caution to the wind when it comes to taking care of yourself. The years are counting faster than greased lightning and your age creeps up on you like that ex-boyfriend you blocked on Facebook.

With people my age (even younger) passing on from illnesses that used to beset only the older people decades ago, it made me more of a hypochondriac wreck than I already was. The slightest discomfort—like belching, for instance—and I’d find myself Googling for serious diseases that manifest such symptoms. And one thing I’ve learned from Googling your illness is, DON’T. It will scare the living daylights off you because everything ends up to either cancer, heart disease or diabetes.

I don’t remember ever fretting about what I eat. I was a slave of my cravings because I eat what I want when I want it (well, as long as I can afford it). If there’s one thing I will always remember from my dad’s many words of wisdom, that is to never be stingy on food. We work so we could eat, he said. Maybe I took that literally because I had no compunction eating what I like and it doesn’t matter if it’s street food, junk food, processed food, or if it’s been swimming in oil, sodium or preservatives, etc. As long as it satisfies my extra-efficient stomach then all’s good.

Sinful Cebu Liempo

I also tend to overeat. I don’t mean this as an insult, but I eat like a construction worker doing hard, manual labor that I need a thousand calories from high-carb foods and had to finish it all by 10 minutes. No wonder sometimes, when I’m done eating, I feel like I could use a wheelchair to get me around.

These things are okay when I was younger, but now I’m starting to feel the brunt of it. And I don’t mean just the effect of it going to my thigh or hips, I mean like feeling sluggish and bloated after. Shrugging it off can only go so far especially when you start scaring yourself by imagining the blob blocking a major artery.

But believe me, I tried. I really did.

There aren’t that many healthy choices, at least from where I am most of the day. Whether I bring lunch to work or eat out during lunchtime, the selection is limited to fast food, microwavable food from convenience stores or the hit-or-miss Jollijeep menu.

I don’t know if people will agree with me, but heck, eating healthy is more expensive. A nearby salad bar, where you can make your own, charges per 100 grams and can go as much the same price as a quarter roast with unlimited rice at another place.

I love vegetables, but veggies alone on a main course/viand feel incomplete. I get hungry just as quick and before I know it, I am stuffing sandwich on my mouth barely two hours from my last meal. If you’d ask me, it kinda defeats the purpose of not eating meat.

Aside from unhealthy eating, another sin I’ve been doing these days: Indolence.

How can I possibly burn all these carbs if my work entails me to sit on my coliseum ass in front of the computer for almost seven hours? Sure, I often hit the 10,000 steps but on a regular day, all this walking would eventually end up with me crashing in bed and asleep by 9pm. Spell sedentary.

In my twenties, I thought I would live forever. I cringe when I am reminded of how much abuse I forced upon my own body back then. I worked at night barely sleeping during the day, skip meals, eat junk, drink alcohol–name it.

And now, whether I admit it or not, I am slowly paying for it.