And when I woke up, I was still dreaming

Oh gosh, so much has changed in one year. Sometime around Nov 2007, I was a screwed up 18 year old who only thought about passing diploma exams and coping with a boyfriend. Now, I’m a screwed up 19 year old who has to worry about booking jobs, partying (it seems more and more like a night job than actual recreation), keeping in shape, studying and not getting sucked into things that I don’t believe in.

It’s very confusing. All my life, no one ever paid attention to me. I was always left out, the awkward chubby one. It was only when I grew my hair long, lost 10kg, hung out late at night, that people see me. In fact, they’re the ones dying to get me to hang out with them, as if I’m some working class socialite (which I kinda am).

I confided in Sharon one day about it, that people only like me for what I look like but not how I really am, like I get away with murder and stuff.

“It’s true. People think that craziness in pretty ones are amazing. Look at Angelina Jolie. She does the most retarded things, but the media always portrays her as edgy and dangerous.”

I asked her, “Does that mean that people put up with my eccentricities simply because I make their lives a little more glamourous?”

“No, you’re different. You package your weirdness in a way which people want to emulate. Danny Nah on the other hand, gets on people’s nerves since he doesn’t know when to shut up.”

The overriding conflict in my life, is that on one hand, I want to be on top of the world; pretty, smart, sociable, and on the other, I want the same world to accept my zaniness. I want to conform but stand out at the same time, like everyone else in Secondary school. I want to let my armpit hair grow, draw on a mustache, cross dress, and still be considered beautiful. I want people to say that there’s beauty in my single eyelids, short eyelashes, wide waist and small eyes. I want the impossible.

As you read this, you may find yourself saying that I’m really full of myself. That’s pretty true; it IS my blog anyway. I just wish things weren’t so hard to understand. And not everyone has the life I lead, not everyone can in the first place.

I guess I just don’t want people to want me just because I happen to fit the prototype of what they consider hot. I want to be wanted for me, in the sense that if I gained a ton of weight, broke out in acne and got crooked teeth, they’d still be crazy for me.

…and while I’m at it, I might as well throw in the wish for a Capri penthouse and a scottish fold. Sheesh.

Further Adventures in the Kitchen

It has been a month after my go-see at looque. The woman told me to lose 5kg thereabout and see her again. So I tried to lose weight in the soonest amount of time possible. I tell everyone this because they should save themselves the trouble, and not make the same mistakes I did.

WEEK 1: The don’t-eat-anything-at-all-diet

I lived on red bull, ice mountain and milo for a week. I’d chew on deep fried food only to spit it out 5 minutes later. Sharon would say that I’d fall down with just a knock. I started out at 55kg, by the end of the week I had lost 3kg. BUT here’s the clincher: my schoolwork suffered. I couldn’t concentrate for more than 2 minutes, simply reading was a struggle for me. The lack of protein made me puff up like a starving African kid. What’s the point of losing weight when my gut gets bigger?

WEEK 2: The candy-candy-candy-diet

I had a hankering for hello panda the next week, and it wouldn’t quit. Needless to say, despite not eating a lot in a day, I slowly put on all the weight I lost the previous week. Candy SUCKS.

Which brings me to week 3: Vegetarianism. Although I am 54kg now, I am much skinnier than I was when I was 52kg. Weird, huh? My waist shrank from a 27 to a 25 in 2 weeks, and for once my arms are getting smaller than my body. I eat like a pig now, but it’s mostly healthy, yet tasty stuff. Like brown rice, wholemeal bread and pasta. I still eat meat, but not on a daily basis.

People, please do not neglect your carbs!! It’s the coal that keeps the fire burning in your gut. It’s like this: your stomach is a large engine that needs fuel to keep your whole body running. If you deprive it of the very basic raw material that it needs, eventually your body will get used to it and stop burning it even when you do eat carbs.

I urge everyone to aim for slow and steady weight loss rather than the quick ones. It’s much more effective in the long run.

On a more unhappier note, my vegetables don’t last long!! I bought kai lan and cabbage last week and they went yellow today! O well, lesson learnt. Buy veggies that I’ll only need for the next 2 to 3 days.

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Girl About Town 1: Bea’s Intoductory Guide to being an It Girl

First and foremost, my credentials:

Nick: Where are you rushing off to?
Diana: I’m the etiquette judge for some contest trying to find Singapore’s It Girl.
Nick: Why didn’t you suggest Beatrice?
Diana: Dude, I just heard about the contest today.

There you go.

You know her. She’s the life of the party. Effortlessly, she’s the center of attention. Men want her, and girls want to be her BFF. She can be your best pal, or your worst enemy. Presenting: the It Girl.

How does one become an It Girl? It starts off with…

LESSON 1: CONFIDENCE!
I wouldn’t keep harping on the same damn thing if it wasn’t true. Every It Girl must have a good aura about herself.

Ever wonder why, in some parties, the less hot, less glamorous girl seems to attract the most guys, while the most beautiful girl meekly sips her mai tai in a corner? You go up to ask her why she doesn’t mingle, and she quietly says, “I’m shy.” Personally, I want to strangle such people. If you’re so shy, why bother showing up? Just play scrabble with yourself at home and save the trouble of dressing up, doing your makeup and squeezing into sexy heels. Obviously, you want to have fun with people around, and let’s face it: nobody wants to hang around a person who doesn’t speak much and expects you to do all the talking. The pressure of making a good impression can be daunting, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. In short, GET OVER YOURSELF.

I knew this girl, she was cuter than strawberry shortcake on crack. I went out a night with her, but she did not leave a good impression on the other guests, because she was so guarded. I had to practically elicit answers out of her, and eventually it got draining so I stopped trying. Unfortunately, I have made a mental note to either a) not ask her out again, or b) slip some liquid ecstasy into her drink and challenge her to strip poker.

Next, self consciousness is the enemy. Who cares if your skirt doesn’t really fit, or that you have a new zit on your forehead? Chances are, no one would even notice if you ever brought it up. And if they did, they wouldn’t mark you down like a loser immediately (that comes later). Act like you have nothing to hide, and people would be convinced.

For Taj’s birthday, I was not looking my best. I had a gut sticking out from the vodka earlier that night, my hair was a sweaty mess and my makeup was almost depleted. But I didn’t let that stand in the way of having a good time. Taj dragged me onto the podium at Butter Factory, and soon the crowd gathered. I just kept dancing as if I just stepped out of the M.A.C studio, which eventually attracted the attention of a blonde Canadian. He whispered in my ear, “You’re beautiful,” and the game was on. I replied with a curt, “Thank you!” Score!

As you can see, young grasshopperettes, confidence is the great tonic of all that is classy. Repeat this mantra after me: “I am the party. The party doesn’t start until I get there”. I say that every time before I step into a club, and it works just fine. Try it!

So What

No one understands why I do the things I do. With the exception of Pre, cos you know, been there, done that.

I can’t stand it when people tell me to eat when they know that I’m trying to be a good model. Everybody knows that the industry promotes an unrealistic standard of beauty, so obviously those who go in are plainly aware of what’s in store for them. But no, they have to be all, “you gotta take care of your health, we care for you, you’re not helping yourself”. If you people cared so much, why can’t you at least try to understand things from my side?

If I had decided to become a novice skateboarder, you’d probably joke about how I was becoming a mat and that Alann would be my best friend. You’d probably ignore the fact that I’d get broken bones and bruises. There is no hobby, job or pastime that risks some form of physical or psychological harm. Shopping isn’t good for planning a budget. Reading the wrong genre of literature will make you a paranoid sonofabitch. Just because the media makes a big hoo-ha about anorexia and other eating disorders, suddenly modelling becomes the devil’s work. Do you think it’s fair to stand in the way of someone else’s aspirations? I’m not Hitler or anything; the only things I want to eradicate are my love handles.

I hate your double standards. I know you care for me, but please try to respect my decisions as well. That’s all I ask. I’m not asking you to support my choice to starve myself, I’m not asking for your sympathy. All I want is for you, as my friends, to give me the space to do what I need in order to hopefully succeed in this business.

War of Attrition

School is getting tougher by the day. Everything seems to be working against me: Shitty new lecturers, less than understanding parents, the sudden fear of not being able to cope.

I told my parents that I’ll be clubbing less when school starts, but it seems that clubbing is probably the only way to unwind from all the shittiness unfolding in my life.

I feel fucking weak. I need you, and you, and you.

I can ride a bike with no handlebars, no handlebars

School’s starting soon for me again, so pardon me while I deviate from my usual subject matter for something a little more… sombre, perhaps?

This morning I read the forum section of the Straits Times, because I want to see how stupid the Singaporean populace can be. Just so happens, there’s this entry about University enrollment being a right, not a previlege. To cut a long story short, this guy couldn’t get into a local university, had to study overseas and only years later did NTU accept him to do his masters. He was basically being a wet blanket by saying, “oh I studied so hard, I’m a late bloomer, they should let me in! Waaa!” Someone cue the Linkin Park song, please?

Come on. Isn’t it entirely up to the establishment whether or not they want to enrol you? If I’m a storekeeper, I can always choose NOT to sell you my wares. Similarly, if I’m a chairperson of a University, I can always choose NOT to enroll you, regardless of how well you did. Meritocracy is merely a guideline, cos obviously, as the chairman, I wouldn’t want stupid people in my school, right? Personally, I’m more for nepotism than meritocracy, but that’s another subject for another day.

I really hate people with a sense of entitlement. What I had to learn the hard way when I was young, is that nobody owes anybody shit. Whatever I’m given, I’m given out of the goodness of someone’s heart. It’s not mine to demand for. Money, friendship, love. I don’t deserve any of it, but I met people who were generous enough to provide me with it. And for that I am thankful to no end.

That’s the problem with Singaporeans. We’ve been so fortunate to emerge from third world to first world in less than 40 years, and all of a sudden people are criticizing the system, saying that it fails to take care of their people. OK, fair enough, that’s the government’s job after all. And I know as much as any other Singaporean that our society leaves much to be desired. But at least approach the problem rationally and with good grace, rather than clubbing the table like a fucking caveman, throwing around arguments that don’t make any sense. It’s embarrassing to other Singaporeans who genuinely want to change it for the better.

Idaho? No, You da ho!

“Guys before NS are like charmeleons. They’re not cool enough to be Charizards, but not cute enough to be Charmanders, and are one evolutionary step behind women.” –Alexiel Au Yong

Don’t date a guy who hasn’t come out of NS yet. Plain and simple.

It’s nothing personal. I’m just stating a fact that they do not have the mental or emotional mettle to handle a proper relationship. Their expectations of their girlfriends are way too demanding and unrealistic; and the worst part is, they can’t give as much as they take.

When I was 17 and in JC, I had a literature paper to complete during the weekend. As a result, I didn’t call Zach the Saturday night, apologised through a text message and fell asleep at 11. I woke up at 7am to an angry and hate-filled reply, stating that I was cold and inconsiderate. The worst part was, I totally believed him, and I flooded his inbox with apologies for my ‘erroneous behaviour’. But it didn’t turn out that bad; I got 18/25 for that essay.

If any guy tried to pull that shit today on me, I’d tell him to go fly a kite, preferably with his testicles attached to the string. My life is not going to change to suit your schedule/preferences/possible substance abuse. I’m still going to live how I want to whether you’re in it or not, I’m not going to make you my sun, moon and stars.

But still, I know how hard it is for women to take such a stand. A girl might have met a boy she really likes and really likes her back when they’re 15. They might want their infatuation to flourish and blossom. A woman might find a guy she really likes after a long period of singlehood and pin all her hopes on the first guy who shows her attention. In such cases, it’s only a matter of time before she starts planning her entire world around some guy who represents her dreams and possible future. This of course is a recipe for disaster because the man will put her under the category of “women with agendas”, and said hopes and dreams would once again be unfulfilled.

I’m seeing someone right now who lets me live my life the way I did before I met him, and when I do, it’s only when it’s convenient for the both of us. We don’t make any demands of each other, no “waaaa, we HAVE to hang out during the weekend”, no torturous obligations. That way, we appreciate each other more since the time we spend together is so precious. Granted, he’s never even been in NS to begin with, but he’s old enough to know that two complete people sharing their lives together is better than two codependent ones dragging each other down.

Don’t Stop Me Now

I’m a shooting star leaping through the skies
Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity
I’m a racing car passing by like Lady Godiva
I’m gonna go go go
There’s no stopping me.

-Freddy Mercury

Holden is my Homeboy

My deepest darkest fear, is that if anyone truly knew what kind of person I was, they wouldn’t like me. So I put on this velvet witching cloak, and become someone whom everyone can generally like. There’s the extroverted, exuberant me, and there’s the me that worries too much, second guesses herself, and doesn’t really have as much self confidence as my exterior shows.

I came to this realisation this week. You know how random people just come up to me and start talking to me? Within the first 3 minutes of our meeting, I can already tell how that person relates to people. I can tell whether you’re trying to qualify yourself to me, whether you’re an aimless follower of trends or you go against the grain just for the sake of it. Worse still, I can always tell whether you’re trying to get me to like you.

It’s gone to such a point that I can convince a person whom I have nothing in common with, and whose ideas and personality I totally despise, that we have perfect chemistry and that I totally get him/her. Absolute power corrupts abso-fucking-lutely. I lead them on with empathetic conversation, secretly giggling inside at their social myopia and their desperation to prove that they’re something else.

Last night, I got caught up in my own velvet cloak. I met someone whom I had tons of bona fide chemistry with, and I inadvertently showed him the real me. The one who’s still hopelessly immature, who doesn’t have the emotional or physical strength to get by in the outside world.

Talk about karma.

I just hope he likes what he sees.