Remember the ganglion that popped up on my wrist last year? It’s still there, sporadically growing and shrinking as always, and now a new one has popped up on my right foot. I thought it was a big mozzie bite at first, but when it didn’t itch or go away for a few weeks I decided to get it checked out.

The first one was somewhat startling (”What the heck is that?!?”), but now that the shock value has worn off I’m thinking aww, crap, not another one. I always say that I’ll do something about the one on my wrist knowing full well I’m too lazy for that, but growing a second one is pretty damn motivating.

So if neither of them show any progress in the next three weeks, Mom will take me to get them removed when she goes on shift duty. I could let her do it at home, but I won’t. She was telling me all about one she aspirated at work and she seemed to be far too gleeful about it. She now calls it “Becca’s fish roe”, because apparently that’s the texture of the stuff inside. Mmm, something I always wanted to know.

Passing by a well-known Hong Kong gym, Willie and I as usual started to dodge their swarming salesmen. This time however, he (unwisely) stopped to take a leaflet, which promised a 14 day free guest pass. (Their last ones were for giant Starbucks coffees, sneaky, sneaky.)

So of course we’re corralled inside to ‘fill out a few forms’. After filling out a deceptively short form with his name and number, Willie has taken even further inside as I plodded along behind him. Once they’d talked to him about his fitness goals (and there were more forms) he was told that he would need to be checked out by their medical guy to be sure he’s fit to work out there.

Sounds fair enough, doesn’t it? Well apparently all that that guy’s job involves is sitting in a cubicle with leaflets about BMI and blood pressure tacked to the wall and telling people that they’re fat. To their credit they did at least measure Willie’s height. Then they asked him how much he weighed, and he gave them a number along with, “But I’m not sure about that, It’s been a long time since I’ve been weighed.” But that is all they need to know! You need to lose weight dude! (Even though for the weight he gave, BMI-wise Willie’s perfectly normal.)

Off to check out the equipment and to give the treadmill a shot. While punching in settings, our salesman asked Willie if he knew what a calorie was. He didn’t. The next question was, “Do you know how many calories are in a hamburger?” Well at this point I had to jump in, because if Willie doesn’t know what a calorie is he obviously doesn’t know how many a hamburger has and why it would have them. I replied, not too far off the mark, that “If you’re talking McDonald’s, I’d guess between two-and-a-half hundred and 700 depending on the type of burger?” Ehh, wrong. According to our salesman, all hamburgers contain exactly 500 calories.

I think this is the last you you want to hear from gym staff. Walking through the equipment section again our salesman pointed at one of the personal trainers and remarked that, “Look at him. With working out, you can eat whatever you want and still look like that!”

Then it was time for the sales pitch, aka death blow. We were sat down and he proceeded to talk at length about the different packages. We started to get up to leave when he brought in a second salesperson, who tried to give us discounts “but only if you sign up tonight!” They were being so forceful and pushy that I finally took it out on the second salesman, the pushier of the two. I told him exactly how aggressive and deceptive (remember the guest pass? What happened to that?) I thought they were being, and that it was all a load of crap. He was taken aback for a second, but then responded by offering us an even cheaper price “because we’re friends.” No we’re not friends! I just told you off, you hate me! It ended with Willie laughing in their faces as he pressed on about ‘the deal’.

The experience left me with the strangest craving for cookies, which I fully indulged in. We watched a DVD back at Willie’s before getting to bed, they were exhausting people. And that was the end of my day, after which I took a shower.

And gravity wins again!

I fainted in a mall the other day – first time it’s happened to me in public. What my boyfriend wants me to mention though is that while collapsing, the only words I managed to utter were, “Where… is… my shoe?” (which I had lost while stumbling). So apparently when in distress, my mind turns to shoes. Go me.

Thankfully a nice passerby who was trained in first aid stopped to help (Willie was all freaked out). He also called an ambulance, but they just gave me a check-up on the spot since I didn’t really want/need to go to hospital.

As they were taking my blood pressure and all that, one of the paramedics asked me if I was having my period. I didn’t hear him properly at first, and asked “Pardon?” He repeated himself, and before I could answer Willie leaned over and whispered to me in an all-knowing voice, “Mmennstruuation”. Honey, I’m not that stupid.

I’m fine now though. Here’s us a few hours later, and me reverting back to my annoying self:

Everyone’s been falling ill lately. My poor little sister is now suffering from a fever hitting 105°F for the second time in three months. She’s been hospitalised this time though as it’s not going down. Turns out it’s not the flu as we first thought, so she’ll stay there until the test results come back and we find out what’s wrong.

I don’t know what it would feel like to be that ill. As far as I can recall, I’ve never had a temperature of over 102°F in my life. She’s a brave little girl! I would be bawling and ranting like you wouldn’t believe if I were in her position.