Work Diary | Day 2: OCD over zero-point-zero-zero

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As a matter of self imposed discipline, I have made myself a promise not to say a thing about my Personal Coach (PC) – to be fair, as it’s too early to be judgmental and I need the time and ‘space’ to nurture any respect I need to build for PC or I’ll totally recede into my ‘shell’, thereby wasting a lot of resources (money at the top most of the list). 
… and ok, you ‘caught’ me there. Its really just in case my PC reads this space. You just never know.
I mean, I have ex-es googling and ‘hooking’ up via email and/or Facebook/LinkedIn. I have ex-es telling me about and/or making references to words typed here. So, there you go. You just never know.
As a matter of clarity, I only have 2 ex-es in my books. Only 2 had the effect of making me out-cry the amount of tears I do during my monthly PMS (at work, if I may add). Only 2 that have super powers to make me lose 10 kilos in 2 weeks. Gosh … I NEED to have more of these rather than the rest who were … what shall we say? Fillers? Pursuers that never quite made it to the boyfriend stage and depending on will, tenacity and determination they fall off the ‘wall’ (like flies) after some time. 
Well, it’s not that I am mean. But I’ve been through phases of self discovery, and evidently I am not done even to my dear employers who’s paying a lot for this … this … ya know … this PC business that’s really freaking me out. 
Oh, incidentally the other thing that’s freaking me out is the damn electronic weighing machine in the bathroom with 2 decimal point. Uh huh you heard me right. TWO-FREAKING-DECIMAL-POINTS. And being the self diagnosed OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder lah!) I absolutely must climb on it and wait for it to settle to a happy two-decimal-points equilibrium. Then, I get upset. Seriously. Hear me out. An apple cannot be 400 grams. The science is flawed here: somehow everything ends up drastically inflated when it enters one’s body – heavier that is, but no matter how much leaves (uh huh, I weighed up before and after both #1 and #2 ‘jobs’). I am now reduced to tracking down what goes in and what leaves my physical ‘vessel’ and the corresponding figure shown on the LCD screen on a piece on notepad that sits on top the marble sink top.
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Beyond that, I am only mildly irritated that there’s no first aid kit in the room and plenty irritated by the fact that I was not in-tuned with my spiritual being (laugh! go ahead snort away)… I looked at the band aid. Hesitated and thought about the probability of me needing this one piece of band aid, then toss it out of the toiletries bag to make way for … tweezers, razor, extra Gillette blades.
… and as Murphy’s Law has to happen {coz IT IS MURPHY’S LAW!!!}, I cut myself with the razor and new extra Gillette blade! Great! I mean seriously great! Here’s the one reason to stick in the Bank for years till I grow out of the scar having scrapped the bottom of countless numbers of Vitamin-E cream pots over the years. Once it’s gone, voila! I can quit and shove the long pants and ankle length skirts dress code policy.
The only ‘joy’ I’ll be deriving from this lack of “amenities”, is the fact that I’ll be leaving some A+ blood stains on the white Egyptian cotton sheets! Tough.
OK. Before I sign off:
as a matter of courtesy, I will not comment on any participant until Day … say 4? Yeah, you can tune off for two days. Common’ go on. I gettit. Have a blast in Club Med or something. {wink}
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3 thoughts on “Work Diary | Day 2: OCD over zero-point-zero-zero

  1. i thought gillette blades r meant for those macho men who still uses the traditional shaver only…>? hehe. btw, u can go across the street and hv a pedicure, and u will be 0.0065 lighter……

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