It’s been two days since I embarked on my gym program – and it hurts, it frigging hurts. 12 months of slobbery and inactivity have caught up with me. Just one hour of weights, and my arms and boobs are still aching – even now. The mere action of lifting a book would send spasms through my arms and even the of typing this blog entry proved to be more of a physical hurdle than a mental one. Aargh… this is worse than torture.

To think I actually told Poon (not to be confused with the other Poon from primary school), my newly anointed personal trainer in camp, that I wanted to do weights every other day; now I know why he advised me to wait for a week for the next session.

If not for the unsightly flab that’s threatening to engorge my body, I would never have subjected myself to such excruciating pain. The price of vanity was much higher than I thought.