i would like to have a bum

Something like the one above. That would be nice.
Being a stick-thin girl for two-thirds of your life isn't such a bad thing in Asia. Afterall, there are crevices in many Asian societies that can accommodate girls with paper-sque dimensions. I had almost never been told that I am anorexic during my years of growth even though growth was barely noticable on me at all during those years. Many of my peers describe me as the "slim" one that boys generally fancy over those with "bulky" thighs and bottoms.

An example of a "slim" girl that's preferred




over one with a "heavy" body.



This amount of ass is too much for your miniature wiener to penetrate!
(hence not the preferred choice)

It's not a hard concept to grasp especially if you live in a society where 30 percentage of the men around you are skinnier than the lady in the above picture. 40 percent bigger (in terms of fats), 15 percent of about the same size (and mass), 10 percent bigger in terms of muscle, and well, a special 5 percent are probably trying out her clothes as we speak. Alright these are less than just rough numbers, but you get my point. Fragile men usually prefer even more fragile ladies, and there are plenty of such males around here.

I had never been happy with the skinny way I was. Even when I could go into fitting rooms with any XS or S-sized garment and emerge to parade how it fits me the way it fits the clothes hanger. This, disturbingly, happened to be what many of my peers envied during our years of growing up.
Yet I am terrified by the notion of being fat. It's the last thing I will allow happening to my body. In the event of having to make a choice between being a beached whale and a piece of stepped-on pancake, I chose abused pancake.

I spent all my teenage years in denial and delusion, trying to get rid of those invisible fats I obsessively believe is there. (yea I still believe in that now. gimme some time to get over this one)
I trained with DIY dumbbells crafted out of used soda bottles filled with the heaviest liquid I could lay my hands on.... which turned out to be just water because I gave up begging for mercury from the school's dentist. I told myself that I must be able to do pull ups and push ups by the dozens and not break into sweat. I gave myself unrealistic goals of growing to be 1.7 meters tall with a lean, fat-free body of an Olympic gold-medalist.

Never quite get there.

Instead of gaining mass and fats proportionately, I succeeded in burning away all of those fats that were crucial for my bodily functions and safety. In retrospect, I might have gotten rid of some important fats that were much needed.... I still remember the feeling of having a "jumping" stomach when I was bolting down flights of stairs then. Probably wasn't having enough fats to pad it down in my abdominal cavity.
I gained a few sinews here and there, but didn't manage to clock even a single decent pull up. Then there were some boys who started labeling me as a tom boy after I outran them in a race. Needless to mention, you cannot determine your own height. I fell 10 centimeters short of my ideal range.

What I should have done



to stroke my bruised ego.

So I matured and started off as the skinny, bumless, boobless employee when I joined the workforce close to 7 years ago. I declare with little remorse that I didn't give up on my obsession with being fat-free. In fact, I have added as clarity to my goal and a topping to this challenge, the need to gain muscle definition, a bum, and a set of boobs that will jingle just a little when I run about excitedly.

I tried out all kinds of theories and products over these years. Whatever it takes (apart from surgery) to nudge me a wee bit closer to my goal, I did. I grew a cup size plus a little more in 7 years through phases of eating a lot and working out as much to sculpt away the chubs from spots that are better off slim. I somehow got a tiny ass via my deal with Emma (refer to blog post below to understand this magical being) and climbing long flights of stairs religiously as I commute between home and work everyday.

I find humans with strength very beautiful and I believe that everyone subconsciously agrees with me on that. If you think otherwise, you might have to read up about sexual dimorphism somewhere where it's full of science then come back again. (and I still won't debate with you cos it's my blog and I bullshit here occasionally without having the obligation to service anyone's argument)

I would like to have a bum on my behind (if that makes any sense), and a perky set of boobies that fit more than Speedo Junior swimwear. But most important of all, I am working towards having a body that is strong enough to hoist a couple of grocery bags for ten blocks without needing to call for reinforcements because I would like to be able to do things for other people without them going, ERrr.... babe I'm not too sure. Maybe you should just sit there.

Freedom is



enabling your body to carry itself for you when fun is at hand

"You've got a pretty face. It's a waste you got those delts."

Didn't manage to say this to that dude back then, but you seem to have a tiny brain. You ought to chop off half your penis so that both your heads match up to each other.

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hellooooo p brain!

So you think it's cool to have someone who also spot a tongue piercing, smokes, drinks like a fish, and behaves amateurish join you in your department at work?
Pretty neat I must say, for the first 2 weeks. Afterwhich everything took a turn for the unimaginable when you became the only amateur on the block screaming obscenities in the lifts and gargling your own curses before clueless people and a coyly smiling buddy.

I used to crimp my wayward hair before I go to work. Somewhere along the line I decided maybe it isn't worth all that trouble considering how damaging it is to put your dying tresses through such abuse daily.
Then I gave up looking human altogether since a year and a half ago. It was that fateful day when I walked back into office with my pal, unknowingly displaying a piece of pink velcro stuck to my head and gagging on my diarrhea of swear words. We left behind a group of folks with their mouths hanging open in aghast thinking, my oh my, what a horrible girl, yelling obscenities at her harmless friend so openly.

OMG



This girl needs to go crawl back into her mother's womb, listen to some Chopin and cultivate some anger management skills!

God should know the truth behind everything. And I am starting to think he didn't or has been secretly enjoying it on the expense of my reputation and sanity. I can back up this claim because among those who do know what has been going on, they seem to think it's rather amusing (albeit very noisy), this daily display of ararara by me and hahaha from her.

It's been a rather tedious ride, me and you. Yes, you, Emma trololoh. And I am relieved that I am not around today to bid you farewell because I know how awkward it will turn out for me, needing to be nice to you when you have always been a nuisance to me. You taught me a lot of things beyond your years and mine, and I am confused about my verdict on these lessons I have had from you.
Stuff like your quest involving swimming over to a deserted island with a roll of toilet paper over your head, dig out a hole in the sand and making a doody. Experiences of how you ran across Orchard road and its life-threatening spew of traffic with a giant drum over your shoulders just to escape the fine you are supposed to pay for littering with your cigarette bud. And not to forget, how you crap in your mother's womb, on the dinning table, and by the road side during a family road trip.... endless out-of-this-universe stories only a seriously fkd up or genius person can tell.

By the end of today these will all be gone to the next unfortunate place that will have to put up with your mischief. It's a little sad for me, all because I am such a kind, forgiving, and benevolent soul. I believe there's always a little good in everyone and I educated myself to spot that. (It's on those couple of fingers you have yet to tattoo)

Please don't lose faith no matter how much people tell you how you are a fkd up child like I once said to you. They may be wrong cos I doubt you ever cause them the kind of inconvenience and humiliation you did me. (So that puts them not in the position to stomp all over your godforsaken soul)
Just go out and grab your boss by the horns (don't worry, I bet your horns are bigger than hers) and wrestle your way through. Make sure you pick up as much knowledge as your empty cranium can absorb and earn yourself that coveted spot in the cable car.

I am so glad you are going away. Words cannot articulate what I think of you in the world of advertising. You will be so distracted with the tonnes of things you crave to learn, you will probably be less of a nuisance to the world.
Save your genius for things you can show off in your curriculum vitae, nooblet.
Set a name for yourself in the advertising world (not with your love and capability to consume rotten food and stay alive). I hope the next time we meet, I can proudly introduce you as a chief editor to my friends instead of just the biggest nuisance to mankind.


Now excuse me as this elderflower reverts back to a commonplace senior digital marketing specialist...

boring.

This picture says a lot about the gifter



and the recipient who ate the banana in the end

"i dont think she finds me adorable"

I don't think that's possible.

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guess what

And yes I jolly well was. If you can find that tiny subtle link somewhere on this colorful blog full of mini walls of text, you can tell how much of a surprise it is I am still around to blog and not resting in some urn.
(Over here, majority of the dead population gets cremated. Land is scarce on an island that is not visible on the atlas.)

Come to think about it, why the hell was I so angry with life?
I have the love of my parents. They never tell me "I love you" ever or say "goodbye" when they hang up on the phone. Beat the crap out of me numerous times during my teenage life for some forgotten reason, and called me mental and a slut on several occasions. They are also the ones to give up on every opportunity they ever have in their lives since me to trade for a glimpse of a chance for their daughter. That, I had usually cast away for more time to be lazy.

Thank god my father isn't Jacky Chan



and doesn't use his legs during punishment

I have a brother. Highly intelligent. Compassionate and passionate. Geeky (in the scientific sort of way). Advocates integrity, honesty, and chivalry. Romeo minus all the frills. Crazy.
I remember that a lot of my unhappy blog posts from the past had stemmed from dealing with my brother, having to deal with him, and the fact of needing to deal with him for the rest of his life. OCD is the biggest prank God has on us humans.
I am going to be extra harsh on this unfortunate soul, and since I am in an especially generous mood, I shall bestow upon those living within close proximity of him the adventure of loving someone who tells you "you cannot bathe when you need to because I haven't. I don't know when I will, and letting you in first is not an option".

This is the model for CK's Secret Obsession perfume



and no I don't look like that when I didn't get to bathe

I love my brother. I just do not appreciate the OCD in him. Don't tell me I am wrong for my lack of acceptance. I am sure the brother wants it out as much as I do.... if not more.

I was once a model student in school. And as I graduate into my secondary years, I switched profession. I became a loser.
Everything started from being too proficient in a language that was "uncool" and not the language you had to use when you pen down your answers for homework or examinations. You know how people tell you that "it's through a lot of practice dear" when you pipe about how awesome another person is with a skill? Just like how you cannot always expect a national swimmer to be a top vocalist, it's safe to assume I sucked at this "other" language that's "cool" in school and used in textbooks and examinations. (English, baby)
Did horribly for my studies and was disallowed to join any sports community because it will interfere with my grades according to my parents. Didn't like school anymore the day a clique gave me a chance and I blew it with an Academy award-winning display of stutter speech. I remember waking up one day and discovering I have been automatically sorted into the loser category.

Unlike in the school of wizardry



where they have something tangible to do the job specifically

Did I mention that my parents also limited my wardrobe choices to make everything a full package? So darn unredeemable, this whole thing. (With the 'thing' being me)
And just maybe, this wholesome package of being at the bottom-most of everything is the very thing that gave me what every growing child needed. Security.
You see, if you are a person who likes to squish bugs, you may pick on a harmless ladybug; Small, non poisonous, and gives a satisfying crunch. You will not pick a Brazilian Wandering spider, but neither would you pick a flea. It's simply not satisfying nor profitable to pick on one.
I never got bullied in school. No matter what I did, or not do.

So I grew up and got a hold of English. (And a couple of unfortunate boys)
Rebellious and dying to pave a road for all subsequent amoeba-like teens like myself, I ran amok with my out-of-this-continent dress sense and angsty, emo character. That carried on for the few good years that many of my peers spent studying hard for their degrees and securing both decent careers and men.
Now as I am bidding goodbye to my last twentieth-something years, I suddenly discover that albeit a lot older, I have become much happier and at peace with this world and what is happening around me. Don't get me wrong, I was angry with almost everything, just never myself. (Time to scream "BASTARD!!!" and pelt eggs.)


It's an amazing feeling, stepping away from things you get tired of doing for a cause that no longer brings you any further than where you have already been.
It's that sneaky, stealthy change that is painless and invisible to yesterday and tomorrow, but tells an incredible story you don't even know there is when you chose to look back decades down the road.

I am decades down my road now. Almost 3 decades to be specific.
As much as I spend a huge chunk of my wage on anti-aging and lifting beauty products monthly, I applaud every day I had as I lean closer towards my grave (Ok, fine. Urn.)
Here I am, constantly chiding myself not to look back so hastily for I will see a myriad of beautiful accomplishments and change if I am willing to hold it for a couple more milestones.... A few more breakups, loss of a pet or job, before I turn around and breathe.

Not the most angst-free stuff to say still



but it made me smile when I typed it out

"I am surprised you don't do self-mutilation."

I love surprises. I guess I will keep surprising everyone including myself as I soldier on in life.

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