The title of this blog post comes courtesy of my hilarious grandmother, who never fails to teach me new Hokkien words whenever I speak to her.

If it's not one thing, it's another. I think the BDD is getting better; I no longer recoil from looking at photos of myself, I'm starting to gingerly dip my toes into facebook again. I can take more than a horrified glance in the mirror. In short, there's progress.

But there's a new demon in the house: my weight. I've always been pretty happy with my weight, but thanks to the olanzapine I've gained well on 8kg. It's visible, this weight. People comment on it. My clothes don't fit. The bulge just sits there and taunts me every day.

I never thought I would get to this stage, but my weight occupies my mind like nothing else. I can't study. I can't sleep. I keep thinking about the 8kg I need to lose and how to lose it. I contemplate spending immense sums of money on getting rid of it. Every other thought I have is about my weight.

For several weeks now, I've instituted a programme of diet and exercise. So much depends on this that I am afraid to fail to lose weight. I don't know what kind of slippery slope I'm on, but it's not a pleasant prospect.

8kg. 8 fucking kg. The number just percolates through my brain and looms over everything.

If it's not one thing, it's another.