Genes are hard to fight, because they are God's specifications for each one of us. My long battle with my self image seems to have borne some fruit when I stepped out of my teenage era, but the proverbial bulges still bug me once in a while. And a meal is always to me, a composition of its fats, carbs, protein. Which is why I hardly ever finish up a 'bad' meal, unless my taste buds tell me its worth the calories. Each day, the duration of time that I spend on my butt is always measured against the intensity I spent in the gym, triggering periods of guilt and quiet self reprimand. Fruits are to me, a source of good fibre and antioxidants, or not. I eat them, because they're good for me. Such an uneasy way to live, but it has become a subconscious habit.
