Guess I found a way to articulate my feelings of apprehension of allowing myself to become too comfortable, and fat.
There shouldn’t be any worries as I love life, my family and myself.
The topic statement is an accurate explanation for why I generally do not indulge myself in good things, like the honey in my happy box, a la the fridge.
And often, the good things will start to expire and rot, I’m using perishables as examples here, simply because I can’t bear to start eating them. I’ll rather give them away, with a hell lot of pain, but yes, I’ll rather give the love to my loved ones.
I am repelled by over excitement at feasting as there is bound to be waste. Furthermore, that we can waste while someone else in the world starves, I don’t want to be a part of it. But I do enjoy it frankly. The dissonance is real.
But anyway, the long and short of it is that refraining from indulgence, and sometimes eating less than fullness is about discipline. I refuse to be passively affluent and ignorantly allow myself to run amok.
Keching 