#withdrawing

I am withdrawing from sugar.

It was my flatmate's graduation this weekend and instead of being ripped off by the various restaurants around town (on the night of graduation, all the nice restaurants in town will make you pay for a set menu - and while I can appreciate the sheer logistics of cooking for the masses of people, I also see that it is a very profitable night when people are forced to pay at least $60 a head), he decided on a pot luck. He arrived before the rest of his family on Thursday night to prepare for the potluck and so, baking ensued.

Four hours later, our fridge literally had no more room for anything because it was occupied up by two cheesecakes, a chocolate mousse log and a dessert that we loving call a glandular mandibular.

Fuck me, they were so so tasty.

We still had tonnes of leftovers on Sunday and so I spent the whole of Sunday eating. Like every two hours, I would reach into the fridge and take out a slice of whatever dessert we had. I felt disgusting, but my taste buds were like waaaaheeeey party. ... and I figured I'd just be good from now till when E. comes down in two weeks, because from experience, two weeks is generally enough for me to regain my normal body proportions if I have been gorging myself.

Which brings me to Monday morning and I actually felt like I had a hangover from all the sugar I had consumed. Also, my stomach was protruding like I had ascites or something. I was so tired and had a raging headache. And also, my stomach was weighing me down like an anchor when I tried to do my usual daily push ups.

And tonight, I've spent the entire evening browsing dessert recipes whilst my stomach makes wistful noises. And I know there is still left over glandular mandibular in the fridge.

I am going to brush my teeth before it's too late. My name is *****. And I am addicted to sugar.

#blah

Frustration. This is the general consensus. Or perhaps because I am currently in the midst of a six month state of perpetual PMS. I think my mother would almost prefer me to be actually pregnant, because then at least she would know the cause of my amenorrhoea. 

Yes, three sentences in and I've already decided to discuss my menstrual cycle. But hey, this is the place for such things, no?

Personally, I'm rather stoked to be exempt from the tidings of the monthly red tide because I save so much money. And also, who actually enjoys getting their period? My mother however, has decided that I have starved myself into state of secondary amenorrhoea. Or something is horribly wrong with being a pseudo-vegetarian. Personally, where is the logic in this? Vegetarians do not suffer from secondary amenorrhoea.

Blaarrrgh.

Also, fingertipsssssy close. Yes, so close - yet so far away. One could wonder why I even bother. Truth be told, I don't know. Perhaps obsessing over things is a hereditary thing - my mother obsesses over my lack of menses. I obsess over other trivial things which shouldn't matter anymore. And yet, I find myself almost enjoying winding myself up. I am a masochist of my own heart.

Note to self: must rant about the dying profession of pharmacy when I can be bothered. Because pharmacy is a broken profession. At least, in the community it is.

More pleasant things to think about... 

- fourth year beckons! yesyesyesyes. Except slightly disappointed with the PD no-show this year. And if I find out (which we will in December) that if clinical skills was responsible for this, I will hold Dr. G. accountable for the fact that he cheated me out of $750

- two weeks of bliss with E. in January

- only eight more weeks left in Neverland (where it rains perpetually, even during the summer... I shit you not, pretty sure the vampires of Stephanie Meyer's imagination would find this place just as suitable as Forks as a place to settle in).

#amusement

As E. is coming down on Friday, I went and bought some cider in preparation (because drinking cider whenever we see each other is a thing we like to do - although, I have a feeling that this will probably change to wine).

Anyway, after I had gone through check-out and was wheeling my groceries to my car that I suddenly realised that I had not been asked for ID - which normally occurs because one of the curses (blessings) of being Asian is the fact that I look perpetually ten years younger than my actual age. It was the oddest feeling in the world because I felt both happy and sad: happy that I finally looked like I wasn't still in high school, but then this was quickly followed by disappointment because I have reached an age where I would actually like to still look juuust a smidge younger than my actual age. 

I relayed this all to E:

Me: "I just bought some cider for us when you get here, but I didn't get asked for ID. Must be looking particularly mature today"

E: "MILF looking"

I had to lol at that.

#onemoretogo

That was a highly unsatisfying exam experience because I did not get to showcase all my hard work. In the end, I was being assessed on how well I could bullshit my way through an entire case built of HIC questions and bioethics. If I had known, I would not have bothered to learn all the branches of the damn trigeminal nerve. Nor would I have bothered to learn the main branches of the aorta and at what level they branch off. In fact, I probably would have spent less time studying than I already did - and that compared to last year was already quite pitiful because I spent the majority of my time on Pinterest.

fdjksdfkjsdffdjdsfkjsdf medschool. You suck.

#jinx

Thanks med school - really appreciate the curve ball you threw. I was pretty much asking for it though, wasn't I? I think my most of my guesses were actually correct and so I'm not crying - like some people were half way through the exam.

The feeling I got when I saw the five pages of CT and MRI scans (of the parts of body which we learnt about last year) was similar to the panic that I had bubbling inside of me during last year's OSPE. Except this time it was fortunate that I finished the rest of the exam early and so had an hour to calm myself down and actually look at the damn images. After a whispered prayer/silent cry for help, I actually saw that the vertebral body was damaged, which then made everything a whole lot more easier to interpret. And the CT of the brain actually wasn't too awful - even though at first, I was like wtf... the only thing I can definitely see are the lateral ventricles and about fifty shades of grey surrounding it.

At least the renal question was pretty decent (Professor W, you have my never ending gratitude - except, please don't be my OSCE marker again), as was the other CNS question.

Well, I can safely now say that:
- Maori health
- cancer
- Reproduction, development and Ageing
- falls
will definitely be coming up in Friday's exam. But I think I'm going to take this afternoon off and relax for a bit.

#motivation

Where is it? I am so complacent... the first two exams have been pretty kind to me and now I'm just like waaaaaaheeeey, I don't need to study.

Who am I kidding.

WE WOULD LIKE A DISTINCTION AGAIN, PLEASE AND THANK YOU.
Now go and study.

#letsdothisshit

Let's ace this shit.

Also, because my memory is currently occupied with a thousand things (I haven't had this pregnant feeling in my head for a long, long time... don't know if that is a good or bad thing), imma write a list of things that I am going to do as soon it hits 5pm on the 28th of October:

- catch up on the newest season of Grey's Anatomy

- get Taylor Swift's new album

- read Anne Lee Huber's newest installment

- drink the new cider (with lime bitters)

- make an asparagus frittata (I love how asparagus is finally in season! and ever so grateful that I don't have whatever allele it is that allows me to detect the smell of it in my urine)

- make tofu feta