Would you believe?

The first 2 kg I've ever lost in ages?

Maybe there IS something to this Physical Training (PT) schtick.

Oh, and those rumours about the PT instructors being sadistic devils hidden in well-tanned bodies? All too true.

I've lost my voice too, from all the "1, PTI! 2, PTI! 3, PTI!"

But as long as I can look less like the Stay Puft monster from Ghostbusters, I'm happy.

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"Ooh, ooh, can I say something about the Mats in your platoon?"

Sure thing, it's your blog as much as mine.

"Great! Ok, let's see. The first week, they were so unbeareable, weren't they? Buggin you and teasing you, just because you were a little different from them. Sure, you were a little girly. They're calling you 'Rosita' right?"

Let's move on.

"Hey, it's more original than 'Hafizah'"

I said, let's move ON!

"Alright! Geez! Ok, but then they got used to you, just like everyone got used to you in school back then right? Maybe it's because you toned down the weirdness and started becoming more of your quiet self, right?"

That's right. It worked pretty well, didn't it?

"Not as much as the Seargent making them do 30 push-ups and giving them 5 days Extra Guard Duty when he heard them make fun of your voice."

Ok, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoyed that a little bit.

"Now, they won't mess with you anymore. Must be sweet to have a Seargent behind your back, eh?"

You do know he'll still give me push-ups if I mess up my foot drills some more, right?

"Pfft, who asked you to be so blur?"

Ok, you're fired.

"WHAT?!"

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I don't know what's more worrying: the fact that in camp, I'm frequently miserable and about to lose it, or, that I'm beginning to enjoy being miserable and about to lose it.

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One final note: Ready to relive your childhood, dear readers?

Then click here.