Mountain climbing

Just when I became a teenager, I also started eating copious amounts of junk food. Going to boarding school  was a excellent opportunity to perfect this habit, which resulted in my gaining a good 18 kilograms in four years. At this point, the only person who thought I looked good fat, was my mother, who had for years complained of my being a skinny child.

Carrying so much weight on a small frame was no mean feat, and my friend W, who I met when I was 18, must not have known this, for he nearly killed me by taking me mountain climbing not once, but twice. This guy, who was then 19, and surprisingly still looks exactly the same today, was very fit and loved the outdoors. His idea of a date was, you guessed right, mountain climbing! Or maybe he really was just trying to kill me. I heaved and puffed, as I dragged all my fat up the mountain, and coming down was not easy either, as my entire body was sore, and W was waxing lyrical about his escapades as a boy scout. 

If indeed he was trying to kill me, I forgive him and challenge him to another mountain climb, and not just any mountain: Mt. Kilimanjaro! 'Yeah, you heard me W, I will beat you to the top of that mountain!'

He also reads my blog and insists I should start writing. 'Is blogging not writing?' I ask myself every time he says that. For now I am more than happy to just write utter nonsense here because I have an entire PhD to write, possibly more than 300 pages of it, and it all has to make sense! Then when I think I am done, it will be edited, chopped, inflated and re-edited, much to my chagrin.  'So, W, I just need a space for un-edited foolery!'

(I have started training for the Mt. Kilimanjaro challenge by first loosing the extra 18 kgs. Give me another year and I will run up that mountain).

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