One dilemma of this no sugar and sodium diet is the rapid weight loss.

I was sitting well at about 120 lbs -- a good weight to start with since I'm hoping to buid a more muscular figure. But since I cut sugar and sodium (sodium restriction started about 2 weeks ago) out, I'm hovering around 110 lbs. 10 fucking pounds in two weeks. What the hell ... let's hope it stops here.

So school begins in less than a month. My first class begins on September 15th and my excitement grows as I look forward to buying school supplies. Actually, that's the only thing I am shitting my pants about. Every year since I was about 12, I skipped happily through Staples or Office Depot throwing anything I saw into a cart. My parents happily obliged because they weren't spoiling me but investing in my future. Year after year, I got highlighters in assorted sizes and colours (even though my highlighting preference was and will always be the thin fluorescent yellow), overpriced pens in every shade (when I ended up always using the blue BIC Cristals) and overloaded on stacks of 200 ruled sheets of paper (1 package was suffice enough -- the rest was "borrowed" from classmates).

Now as I enter what seems like my 70th year of school, have I learned any cost effective ways of keeping myself supplied throughout the school year? No. I still get a high around this time of the year when retailers send out their Back To School fliers and I gawk shamelessly at 80 page notebooks on sale for $0.18 as if they were scantily clad women (I like what I see, what can I say?).

The only downfall to this year's excursion to the office supplies aisle is that my parents can't foot the bill anymore (because I am turning 22 and it's getting quite pathetic) so I must restrict myself to 20 packs of ruled paper this year.

Project: Eat Less Sugar

As my parents and relatives assimilate more and more into Western and Canadian culture, they have begun to take more notice into their health.

Yeah, my mother still insists that a sprained ankle can be remedied by a noxious topical balm and Jasmine tea. She also swears that rubbing a fresh slice of lime to your underarms will cure over excessive sweat glands (I just had horrible flashbacks to my early stages of puberty). Despite her Asian voodooness, she has come to terms to her inevitable future diagnosis as a diabetic.

My uncle and aunt (my mother's older siblings) were recently diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes. Thankfully this is a non-insulin dependent condition -- which means no needles or intravenous anything. Type 2 usually falls upon overweight or obese people who don't take care into their diets or exercise. My mother is about 5 feet tall, weighs more more than 90 pounds. My uncle is about 5 feet tall, weighs no more than 90 pounds. My aunt is about 5 feet 2 inches tall and weighs no more than 90 pounds. Lao cuisine usually consists of leafy greens and fish, generally accepted on the healthier side of the food spectrum. So why has this condition plagued my family? Not too sure, but I know that my family has been deemed unfit to pass Darwin's Test of Human Worth. Actually, I blame it on the change in dietary patterns for the adult in my family. Supermarkets in Laos differ greatly from supermarkets in Canada.

We're riddled with disease and health conditions. Breast cancer has infiltrated 3 generations of women on both my mother and father's side. We have weak bones (thanks to my 5+ broken bones, the number ups to 20+ if you count fingers and toes). Heart attacks (not fatal, but still) plague us at a young age. And now we have high blood glucose to worry about. Shit, eh?

Anyway, back to my declaration of my War on Sugar.

I love sugar. Candy, chocolate, brown, white, icing ... I love it. After every hearty meal -- no matter how stuffed I am -- I always get a hankering for a sweet treat. But this must stop if I plan on living to see the age of 50.

I have to cut out sugary sweets unless I MUST eat it (i.e. birthday parties, baked gifts, etc.), thankfully I don't have many occasions where I am forced to eat sugary snacks out of gratitude. And if I must have some sort of sticky sweetness on my palate, I will have to turn to fruit. I should cut up a shitload of fruit so I would feel much more motivated to eat it, since all I'll have to do is open the fridge and open a container.

I also must commit to a more rigorous exercise routine. Running a few kms a day doesn't seem to cut it anymore. Weight training and stretching needs to be added. I should also add more kms to my run, but one thing at a time.

Why am I worried about a condition that won't rear its ugly head until my mid age? Especially since I already do exercise on a regular basis and standing at 5'3", 115ish pounds, am in the healthy range? Habit. I should start early on a healthy lifestyle while I'm young so I don't have to struggle when I am older. It's been proven that maintaining a strict diet and exercise routine will restrict the debilitating effects of Type 2 diabetes. I'm also doing this for vain purposes as well. It scares me that I see women my age (18-25 year old bracket) who have asses out to here and guts out to there. I've already gained 20 lbs in a span of 18 months. When does this road to obesity stop? Now is the time to do it, so you don't have to start on the road to sickness and disease.

I never really looked excitedly forward to post secondary education. It just meant more work and stress at a cost. As our young scholars are about to make a run at higher education, I wonder about the true merits of post secondary life.

"But Anny! Think about the freedom you had without your parents meddling in it!"

Well, no. My parents gave up on putting limitations on my life when they discovered a half quarter baggie of weed next to my birth control pills when I about 15. I guess they figured since their little girl was getting fucked (in all senses, I suppose) on her weekends but still managed to keep a grade level worthy of satisfying Asian parents, they had nothing to worry about. Come to think of it, life was shitty during my first year. I starved on a regular basis, walked or waited for the bus in shit weather if I had anywhere to go and had almost zero privacy. When I lived with my parents, I had all the privacy and isolation I needed -- until I got hungry or needed the car.

"Okay ... think about the all the new people and friends you met!"

Ha. The school I eventually chose was the intuitive choice for nearly everyone in my graduating class. On top of that, my closest friends decided to go to the same school as well. Oh, it gets better. Three of us lived in the same residence. The rest were less than a 5 minute walk away. Sure, I met people. Yeah, I do have fond memories with these new found friends from faraway towns. But instead of discovering the joys of beer pong with Mitch from New Glasgow, Nova Scotia, I cut out the grueling process of making nice with strangers and maintained my binge drinking antics with the people who held me upside down in my prom dress while doing keg stands. Blame it on my high regard for laziness.

"Well, how about your venture onto higher academics that will lead to a promising career?"

Yeah, I fell for that one too. Being the self-indulgent cocky brainiac, I did something stupid and accepted an offer for enrollment in a biomedical science program. Sure, this could lead to my childhood dream of becoming a physician. But then I realized how hard it was. Especially when I majored in biology. Then chemistry. And then I had a stint in economics. Then I reverted back to the sciences and became a physics major. Then I realized that I was waist high in shit and couldn't turn back. Too much work, too much time, too much money ... I was fucked by this time (in all senses). Did I receive higher learning and a chance to fulfill my childhood dream? Yes. Do I care? Not really. So after all that bullshit and I still come out as cynical as I am now ... I really don't think it was worth it.

"How about using this time in your life to find yourself?"

I kind of agree with this theory. While I'm still a piece of work to fix, I am pretty confident in myself to admit that I DO know what kind of a person I do want to be but I'm not quite sure how to get to that point. I did a Hell of a lot of growing up in those years. I found that life is much simpler if you ignore the drama. The greatest thing I ever learned is just to love and be loved in return. And that friends will always be there even when you think they forgot about you -- they never did, they're just busy trying to figure all this bullshit out for themselves.

In my stuck up elitist mentality, I do feel sorry for some of those who have missed out on this experience. Why? It's because they never had a chance to truly grow and make a proper transition from childhood to adulthood. I'm still in that transition (cue that Britney Spears song where she's in the Grand Canyon ...). I'm seeing a lot of it as of late as a broaden my circle of peers. Stupid, petty drama brought upon just to fulfill some sort of emptiness. Making a large leap into adulthood (getting married, having children, buying a home, etc.) when they themselves clearly can't yet comprehend what it's like to be an adult. The saddest thing about these people is that they have a shell of false identity that is translucent within a huge air of insecurities and uncertainties. I'm blessed to say that I don't feel this way. I may come off cocky and arrogant, but I'm proud of what I have become so far and I have this period of my life to thank for it.

Despite my hang ups on the time I spent working for a piece of paper that has yet to find me a relevant job in that specific field (another rant for another day), I do covet those 4ish years. I learned that I didn't like being another drunken bitch/whore (quit drinking), wasn't interested in being a used up slut (I fuck for love) and that even if I wasn't meant to become a doctor, I was put on this Earth to save lives in some shape or form. Perhaps I did walk away from this period in my life with something worthwhile.