Time

Scientists affirmed that ‘Time’ is a non-matter.

I beg to differ.

To me, Time IS a matter.

Time change and we with time. Although Time doesn’t take up space and has no mass, still, the traces that Time has left behind are visibly lucid, especially on the wrinkled faces of my parents, the grey hair on Kevin’s head and the big beer belly spotted on the most handsome guy back in my secondary school (ASS) days.

I get a tad emotional and sensitive lately about Time because for two consecutive days, I brushed shoulders with two of the very gorgeous schoolmates back in ASS. I was even stunned when they sauntered past me and I have to hold on to my astonishment and hurriedly take another peep to confirm they are the ones. And yes, given their age, their pretty faces may still be noticeable but these pretty faces ballooned and so do their bodies.

I don’t know why, very often, ‘weight’ is always the residue of Time.

A few months ago, I bumped into a supposedly hunky ex-classmate at the supermarket towing two kids and his wife, and guess what Time has installed for him? Time, left him a big beer tummy, a bald patch on his head and additional 15kg on his body. He was only 29 years old.

I looked at Kevin and heaved a sigh of relief, turned to the sky and thanked God that Kevin is still in good shape and have substantial hair on top.

So Time is pitiless on everyone of us, Time is callous even to the most good looking people in the world.

I hate Time.

To fight time, I hit True Yoga on average about 3 to 4 times a week, I try to eat like a bird, but to no avail to losing substantial weight.
And perhaps 5 years later, I will hit the aesthetic clinic more often then I visit the gym for some Botox fix.

I must fight Time.