It’s Not a Diet – Why I Say No to Seconds at Raya

The Raya Feast: A Time to Eat Like There’s No Tomorrow

Raya is that special time of the year when all diets, calorie counting, and portion control get thrown out the window because it is a once-in-a-year kind of thing.

It’s the season of indulgence, where tables overflow with rendang, lemang, satay, lontong, and an endless stream of kuih-muih.

For many, it’s the one time when they can guiltlessly eat like a food reviewer on a mission. But for some, we are trying our best to enjoy the moment wuth our family members without spoiling the vibe.

There’s always that one auntie. You know the one. The one who watches your plate like a hawk, sizing up your portion like she’s calculating your macros. “Eh, why you eat so little? Diet ah?” she asks.

And just like that, you’re left scrambling for a polite reply or debating whether to surrender to the silent pressure of expectant eyes waiting for your next move.

The Health Issues You Never Knew Existed

The truth is, it’s not a diet—it’s self-preservation. I have GERD and IBS, a duo so tragic it feels like a plot straight out of a Malay drama where the husband cheats with the sister—messy, painful, and completely unnecessary.

One wrong move, and I’d spend the night battling an angry dragon inside my chest, breathing fire up my throat, making me regret every bite of that spicy sambal goreng.

GERD doesn’t care that it’s Raya; it strikes with the vengeance of a disappointed grandma who just saw you skip dessert that she personally made for you by through the night.

Then, there’s IBS—the ultimate wild card. Some days, it’s manageable; other days, it’s as if my intestines decide to throw a full-scale protest.

Too much lemang, and suddenly, I’m bloated like a balloon ready to take flight. The pressure is so intense that even breathing feels like I just ran a marathon.

Raya feasts aren’t just about food; they’re a gamble with my digestive system.

The Mum’s Dilemma

And don’t even get me started on my mother’s situation. Her food restrictions are a whole new level of complicated.

For my mum, skipping certain foods isn’t a choice—it’s a matter of survival. She’s on Warfarin, a blood thinner, and while vegetables are generally healthy, they can be a minefield for her.

One time, she ate too much kangkong and chap choy, thinking it was the safest option. The result? Her blood test failed, and she had to be warded.

Her general doctor once suggested she take coconut oil instead of fish oil. Guess what? Her blood became too thin, and she ended up in the hospital again.

It’s like her body has a personal vendetta against anything remotely beneficial.

To make things even trickier, she has a scar in her intestine. Anything too fibrous—wholemeal foods, broccoli, nuts—turns into a nightmare.

The food gets stuck, causing so much pain that she can barely walk. And, of course, another hospital visit follows, where doctors have to suck out the undigested food.

So when she skips seconds, it’s not about being picky—it’s about not wanting to relive a hospital drama.

Final Thoughts

I completely accept and respect that offering more food is a deeply rooted part of our culture. It’s a way of showing love, generosity, and hospitality. Encouraging guests to take extra portions is almost second nature, and I understand why it’s a norm that will continue for generations.

At the same time, I just hope that people also understand that not everyone can eat endlessly. Some of us have health concerns, dietary restrictions, or simply don’t want to feel like we’re about to burst.

It’s not about rejecting kindness—it’s about knowing our limits while still appreciating the warm hospitality that makes Raya so special.

Some of us are just trying to survive the night without turning into a human balloon or breathing fire. It’s not about weight—it’s about making it out of Raya alive.