And of course I regretted it.
On this Sunday afternoon, my friends have decided on Old Airport food centre for lunch. Besides their individual portions, this was what they ordered to share: chicken wings, kway chap, and a plate of sliced, glistening red char siew dripping in house sauce.
As I watched them wolf down their food and snarling with laughter like a pack of hyenas after a zebra hunt, I sat with arms on the table gulping.
“Omg, this one so nice!” they exclaimed in turn while smacking their lips. Thanks guys, really, for not holding back.
Later that day, as my stomach rumbled, I found myself gunning for the nearest toilet. Not that I’m trying to gross you out, but what followed was, amidst other junk, lots of yellow liquid.
Lots of it.
If you’re curious, it was probably bile that my liver had been producing to digest fat.
Gross, but man, it felt amazing. Seems like our bodies are able to regulate and dispose of what is not needed; a metaphor for reducing, restocking one’s life, and reconsidering who we really are in the midst of our circumstances.
Resisting food was hard, but it was tea and coffee I missed the most; a sure sign of addiction.
When we sat beside a modern-looking drink store with an open shop front so you could see what was going on, the owner was passionately “tarik-ing” the tea and coffee with each order. There was something about that caramel-coloured liquid collecting froth along the way of being tossed between containers that triggered my FOMO anxiety.
I also realised that I should not be talking about this immediately after relating the thrill of my emergency trip to the bathroom.
Final thought of the day: We have plenty of opinions about other people’s sexuality and behaviour, but somehow our unbridled appetite, especially at buffets, is celebrated with pride. Watching Singaporeans pile on food at buffets always reminds me of the opening scene of Spirited Away, where the protagonist’s parents stumble across a feast, indulge in the food, and subsequently turn into pigs.
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