My Dorkest Days

They say youth is fleeting. I say, hallelujah.

This was me when I was ten. Well, not exactly. It’s a drawing based on a photograph of me when I was ten. That photograph has, since the completion of this self-portrait, been ripped to shreds and fed to a few very large, very hungry dogs. Well, not exactly. That photograph has actually been scanned and saved in my phone, eagerly flashed to whoever I get into a heated who-was-the-biggest-dork-in-school debate with. The debate usually goes like this:

“Oh my god, I was such a dork.”
“Puh-leeze. Nobody was a bigger dork than I was.”
“I bet you I was a bigger dork than you were.”
“No, you were not!”
“Yes, I was!”
“Were not!”
“Was too!”
“Were not!”
“Was too!”

You can pretty much predict how this debate (and I use the term ‘debate’ loosely here) was going to go. To stop this pointless exercise, I would whip out The Photograph, which would stop everybody in their tracks. They would stare at it in stoned silence, then cower and finally, concede defeat. “You’re right. You were the biggest dork in school.”

So why am I now posting this self-portrait on my blog when all it serves to prove is how much I used to resemble a lab experiment gone horribly wrong? (By this, I’m of course alluding to the fact that I no longer look like a lab experiment gone horribly wrong – a point of obvious contention, some might argue). Well, I did it for a few reasons:

1. I’ve run out of things to draw. I might try ducks next time round.
2. My friends who’ve seen The Photograph made me swear that I would never post it online. So the next best thing is a sketch of The Photograph.
3. It illustrates the fact that youth is over-rated. It also illustrates the fact that not every post has to have a point.

4 Social Causes: Fatism, Ageism, Racism & Uglyism

This year, I shall become an activist and fight for worthy causes. It was during my Save The Workaholics campaign when I realised hey, I’m pretty good at this. And since I want more meaning in my life, I should take up some social causes. I have selected  few that are particularly close to my heart, where I can truly make a difference. So in 2010, I will …

(1) … FIGHT FATISM!

What is it? Fatism is when someone of considerable girth is discriminated against, like they get turned down for jobs like modeling, trapeze artist, diet coach or accounting; are penalised with chubby tax and need to pay for the extra seat they spill into in the plane, get looked at unfavourably at McDonald’s outlets, are eyeballed when wearing a bathing suit in public.

Why am I fighting it? Because anyone can become fat. While I may be on the skinny camp right now (some people insist I’m queen of that camp and the rest of the skinny people are my minions), I’m painfully aware of the possibility that I can very realistically put on weight. I have put on 10kg in one year on a snazzy diet of pizza and macaroni and cheese and ferocious late night Maggi Mee sessions, so if my body can retaliate and go amok that way, who knows what the future holds??!! There are many horrendous things that can happen – I might become all emo over something and turn to food for comfort. I might get knocked up, give birth and turn into a BFC (Big Fat Cow). I’m not foolish enough to think that these things will never happen to me, so I better not speak so soon.

How can I fight this? By refusing to read materials that bash fat people, watching shows that star fat people such as Biggest Loser, eating one donut a week and spamming pro-ana websites.

(2) … FIGHT AGEISM!

What is it? Ageism is when you are discriminated against and considered an old hag and over the hill and therefore, not worthy of hotness after a certain age. Unfortunately, this certain age is a number that keeps skulking farther and farther down the ladder, subject to fashion magazine editors’ whims and fancies. Because of this, signs of ageing such as wrinkles, fine lines and (god forbid) grey hair are viewed as nothing less than a horrible curse.

Why am I fighting it? Because everybody gets old. Very reliable statistics show that it affects approximately 100% of the population in every country on the planet. There are people who insist ageing is a ‘disease’ that needs to be cured. Only unhealthy people get old. I presume this means they believe healthy people will stay ‘young’ and live forever. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, so I’m flat-out ignoring this argument. Ageing is a natural part of life and you shouldn’t be made to feel bad about it. It’s also a tragically pointless exercise to try to look young forever. Famous celebrities all around the world, in their desperate bid to cling onto their last vestiges of youth (and hotness), have done unspeakable things to themselves only to wind up resembling felines and in the cases of some even more unfortunate, canines.

How can I fight this? By growing old – oh wait, I’m already doing that! Mission accomplished. Another way to fight ageism is to be extra nice to old people and to respond with great enthusiasm when kids call you auntie or uncle. When people ask you your age, tell them with pride: I am [insert (real) age here] years old! Don’t try to look younger than your age by dressing the way you think younger people would dress. A 45 year old trying to look like a 25 year old inevitably winds up looking like … a 45 year old trying to look like a 25 year old.

(3) … FIGHT RACISM!

What is it? Racism is when you are judged based on the colour of your skin. Dark skin? Bad. Fair skin? Good. Advertising campaigns are shameless in this area. Life will be better, you’ll look more beautiful, attract more men and be more successful at your job if only you were three shades lighter! Ever seen a Fair & Lovely or Fair & Handsome commercial? They go a little something like this: dark-skinned girl goes for job interview; interviewer blows her off; girl goes home and applies Fair & Lovely onto face; skin becomes 5 shades lighter overnight; girl walks past office building where interviewer sees her; interviewer offers her job (and marriage proposal) on the spot.

Why am I fighting it? Pasty white skin isn’t always attractive! Besides, what kind of message is this anyways? That you’re doomed unless you’re fair-skinned? Talk about going back to the dark ages. I figured we were more progressive than this.

How can I fight this? By shunning products that claim to lighten / whiten / brighten your skin. Instead of hoping fairer skin will make you smarter, more attractive or more marketable, why not do something radical like read a book or grow a personality? That might work better.

(4) … FIGHT UGLYISM!

What is it? Uglyism is being unkind to people who are ugly – you refuse to talk to them, date them or add them on Facebook despite their jovial personalities. Or worse, you make them your best friend so you look better in comparison.

Why am I fighting it? Uglyism is an interesting animal, one unlike any of the other social causes I have listed. For one thing, very few people are truly ugly. Besides, what is ugly anyway? Unless you resemble a cross between the Bride of Frankenstein and Jack Nicholson’s left boob, how high up you are on the Ugly Ladder is a highly subjective matter. It’s also a relative matter – it depends on how ugly/attractive the people around you are. This murky situation has caused many people who are just plain or unattractive, and not bona fide ugly, to become victims of undeserved discrimination. And that’s why it’s so important to fight uglyism. By doing so, you’re improving the lives of the plain and unattractive as well.

How can I fight this? First, by defining what it really means to be ugly, and then making this knowledge known to the world. You’re going to need an army of scientists for this. And second, by not wearing makeup to work once a week …  the world may not be fully prepared for that but hell, when you’ve got a cause, you’ve got a cause!

“No Fatties Here!!!”

“Letting fatties roam the site is a direct threat to our business model,” said Robert Hintze, founder of the dating site BeautifulPeople.com. The site kicked out 5,000 of its members after they appeared to have fattened up over the holidays.

Man, the horizontally/metabolically/abdominally/whatever challenged are going to have a field day with this one. It’s discrimination, as clear as day. Or is it? At the end of the day, isn’t discrimination all about which side of the fence we’re on? We don’t give two hoots about discrimination and partake of it wholeheartedly, until we’re the ones being discriminated against.

Discrimination is seen as unfair only if it prevents us from being accepted into a social club we want to be a part of. If it’s a club nobody in their right mind would want to join, then it’s not discrimination. For instance, nobody wants to join the Ugly Club, no matter how exclusive it is. So even if you bar certain people from joining and ‘discriminate’ against them, nobody will particularly care cos hello, it’s the Ugly Club. But the moment you do the same with the Sexy Club, all hell breaks loose.

Come on, there’s discrimination everywhere – except that, in most cases, it’s not discrimination, just requirement. Couple of years back, I remember the government lashing out at job ads that listed ‘Chinese-speaking’ as one of their requirements. They labeled it discrimination cos the employers were eliminating all the people who needed jobs but couldn’t speak Chinese. That’s called a job requirement, you dumbass. Even that is discrimination now? I’m all for equal opportunity but hell, this is ridiculous.

Speaking of equal opportunity, I hate to break it to you but there’s no such thing. Oh sure, in the name of being politically correct, we’re all equal in the eyes of God blah blah blah … as in we all deserve the right to live and not be like, you know, murdered. But then, God sends you straight to Hell if you’re a non-believer, so isn’t that discrimination as well? Or is it discrimination only if it’s something you cannot control? Perhaps. Like a physical disability. Or the colour of your skin. Or your gender. Or your height. So if you want to be a model but you’re 4’11”, are you a victim of discrimination if the modeling agency throws you out on your butt? And what about if you want to have a profile on BeautifulPeople.com and they reject your application cos you’re ugly? Is that discrimination cos unlike your height (which you can’t control), you can – to a significant extent – control the way you look? A little makeup here, a little shape underwear there and presto!

So my point is (and trust me, I do have one), discrimination is everywhere and it is, in many cases, situational. You’re accepted in some situations and you’re discriminated against in others. The lesson to be learned here is: stop trying to crowbar your way into places where you don’t belong. And if you want it really bad, then be smart, stop carping and learn to play by their rules.

I Have Facial Dysmorphic Disorder

I have FDD. This morning, I discovered that I have this condition, which was why I invented and named it this afternoon. Yesterday, I was placed on a bed at a spa and extracted into oblivion (those of you familiar with facials will know what I’m talking about), not without a bout of weak protests on my part at first though, but that’s a whole other story … I eventually gave into the soothing music, comfy bed and the promise of flawless baby-buttock skin by the time my ordeal was over. What can I say, I’m a gurl (and a bit of a sucker).

Anyways, to make a long story … even longer, I emerged from the session refreshed but looking like I’d been bitten by one hundred very angry crabs. I went to work all pock-faced the next day. Since I already looked like hell, I figured there was no point in trying to mask it – if you’re going to look ugly, I say go all the way baby! So I skipped the makeup and the contacts, pulled on a McDonald’s T-shirt and paired it with flats – it’s as heinous as you can imagine. If people ask me what’s wrong, I’ll make up some deadly disease and tell them I have it.

So there I was at work, studiously shielding my face from passers-by. Instead of being horrified by my pocked-face, everybody was instead surprised that I wore glasses. “Eh, you wear glasses one meh?” Then they asked me why I was behaving all weird and hiding behind my hair. I took that as a cue to unravel my fancy yarn of tragedy, beginning with my encounter with the extraction pliers and ending with how they should call or email if they wanted to talk to me cos I didn’t want any human contact today.

What struck me most was how nobody reacted with the amount of horror or unbridled shock as I’d expected. Come on people! I was wearing glasses! I had pocks all over my face! I had no makeup! I looked like the Empress of Dorksville! I mean, if this doesn’t qualify me as a contender in reality shows like How To Scare The Living Daylights Out Of Your Kid, I don’t know what will. Instead, everybody acted infuriatingly normal. Like nothing was out of the ordinary.

This has made me realise something: I don’t look as ugly with glasses and without makeup as I think. Unfortunately, this also means that I don’t look as hot without glasses and with makeup as I think – what a sobering thought.

Which means I probably have a distorted self-image of some sort. Which means I’m probably creating drama out of nothing most of the time. Which means that’s probably what I’m doing with this post … and probably with most of my blog. Urk.

Positive Thinking Kills

Yep, that’s right – positive thinking kills. I remember watching this episode of Oprah (an old episode – dang Astro and their reruns) and they were talking about self-esteem among teen girls. A rather unattractive girl stood up and said she wanted to kill herself cos she was too ugly to live. Jada Pinkett Smith, the celeb guest on the show, who’d just written some book on self-esteem, advised the ugly suicidal girl that the solution was to start each day with a positive affirmation – something along the lines of looking in the mirror every morning and telling herself she’s beautiful and special and smart and happy and a whole bunch of other stuff that isn’t really true.

While I don’t recall every little detail about that show, the reason why it stuck with me for such a long time was my immediate response: that it was such a load of hogwash. While I don’t advocate being all pessimistic and waiting for the house to fall down on you, I do believe in seeing things as they are. Positive thinking – when brought too far despite the stark reality of a particular situation telling you otherwise – becomes little more than denial, delusion and a whole new brand of crazy.

And there are nations of crazies (mostly lurking around the self-help sections of Borders) whose solution to everything is positive thinking. You have cancer? Oh, just think the cancer away. You hate your job? Be positive la. Stuck in a horrific traffic jam? You “created” that jam from all your negative thinking! You’re fat? Think skinny and the calories you’re eating won’t matter. You’re ugly? Tell yourself you’re gorgeous enough times and you will become gorgeous. This isn’t just bollocks advice, it’s an oversimplified approach to life and dare I say, a lazy approach too. Rather than do something about a bad situation (eg. put on some zit cream), you just think it into non-existence (eg. “My skin is flawless … my skin is flawless … my skin is flawless …”).

Positive thinking (aka Denial) can only bring you so far. Sure, it can help make you feel a bit better for a while, but not for long because whether you like it or not, reality sets in sooner or later.

For instance, you can say you’re beautiful until you’re blue in the face but if the reality is, you look like a dog, trust me, all the positive affirmations in the world aren’t gonna help. You look in the mirror and the image staring back at you is still … the same ugly. Then you’ll feel doubly worse for not feeling better.

The opposite of positive thinking isn’t negative thinking, it’s optimism. It’s taking in all the facts of a situation, looking for a positive solution, taking action and then, expecting a positive outcome at the end of the day.

So, if you’re unattractive, accept it. Not all of us can be [insert name of gorgeous woman here]. Find something positive about yourself that’s not made up and build on that. “I may be ugly but dogs like me and I can hop around the parking lot on one leg faster than you can”.

Forget all that positive thinking pop psychology that’s designed just to sell more books, audio tapes and make therapists and talk show hosts a bundle of moolah. If there’s something you don’t like about yourself and it’s within your control, do something about it. And if you decide not to do anything about it, then you don’t hate it enough, which means you can live with it, which means you should stop bitching about it and just get on with your life.

Pics from stock.xchng

We’re Malaysians And We Like ‘Em Ugly

As a country, we’re known for lots of things – great food, horrendous public toilets and idiot politicians who behave like extras in a B-grade soap opera – and last week, I added one more to the list. We don’t like good-looking people.

Case in point: Malaysian wives are up in arms, insisting on a ban on maids from China cos they’re too hot (the maids, not Malaysian wives). Their husbands will be all distracted and start bonking the maid in the broom closet at night. The Star reported last week that bringing in maids from China will make the “men happy and the women sad”. So, no way to Chinese maids. But Indonesian maids can – these ones we hire by the truckload cos they don’t figure as high up on the Hot Ladder as the ones from China.

Exhibit A: Maid from China. Wah!!! No wonder la Malaysian wives want to ban la. How to fight like this?

It’s really funny how preoccupied we are with looks, and I’m not talking about this in the context of the modeling industry where it’s all about looks. No. I’m talking jobs like maids and construction workers and civil servants.

In Malaysia, we only hire construction workers from Indonesia but not Bangladesh cos they are – just like the maids from China – too damn hot. Radzi what’s-his-name was quoted accusing Bangladeshi construction workers for causing “social problems” because they have “blue eyes and look like Hindi film actors”.

Exhibit B: Construction worker from Indonesia.

Exhibit C: Construction worker from Bangladesh. Oooh … is it just me or is it getting hot in here?

And it’s not just maids and construction workers, let’s not forget the civil servants in Kelantan who must be really fugly in order to be hired. PAS Spiritual Leader, Nik Aziz, declared the state won’t hire “pretty women” because they “will get married”. Um, last I checked, some pretty ugly women also have husbands leh. And to keep the ugly quotient as high as possible, the ugly women can’t wear lipstick (it’s too sexy – ban!) or perfume (it invites rape – ban!) or leather high heels (the sound of clicking heels is too damn hot – ban!).

Exhibit D: Ugly enough to work in Kelantan (the woman, not the orangutan).

Exhibit E: Too hot to work in Kelantan.

Three is the magic number, so it’s now official: hello, we’re Malaysians and we like ugly people. So if you look like a cross between a gargoyle and Chewbacca’s left butt cheek, we welcome you with open arms. Come take care of our children, come build our buildings, come sort the mail in a Kelantan post office. If you’re ugly enough, we might even grant you citizenship.

Exercise A Must (Oh Is It?)

I wake up this morning feeling lazy. I’m supposed to get in a short work out before heading off to the office but I don’t feel like it. I’m having my coffee and flipping through the papers, a battle raging in my head: maybe I should work out, maybe I shouldn’t, maybe I should, maybe I shouldn’t, should, shouldn’t, should, shouldn’t. The ‘shouldn’t’ was winning until I turn the page and see this.

The headline reads: Exercise a must, says Rosmah (huh?). Apparently, we are to “spend about half an hour each day to do some physical exercise to keep fit and healthy (oh is it?). Just 20 to 30 minutes a day is sufficient as long as it is done continuously (really ah?).” She then tells us to embark on healthy “activities like aerobics, going to the gymnasium or taking part in jogathons.” (All this coming from a woman whose only form of exercise, as far as I can see, is balancing a head full of hairspray).

After wiping away the tears of laughter coursing down my cheeks, I hop onto my machine and pedal furiously for a good 45 minutes. Then I go wash out my eyes with chilli padi. There’s only so much Fat & Ugly I can handle in one morning, you know.

Yes, I understand the government is trying hard to get the rakyat off their butts and lose some poundage, but come on. If you really want to make exercise appealing, stop putting up pictures of men who look like they’re nine months pregnant and women who look like they just ate their kids for lunch.

God, I need to erase all the Ugly I’ve just witnessed.

Okay, that’s much better. And for added measure …

… ah … now … um, what were we talking about again?

5 Ways To Motivate. That. Ass.

I was really motivated to exercise at one point. I mean, REALLY. I was literally on a high. Not only would I dedicate a whole hour to exercising every single day, I daydreamed about it when I wasn’t doing it, was excited about waking up the next day to do it, journalled about it, googled and youtubed it and just soaked it all in. Yes, I know. I was insane. Unfortunately, that was last year and my drive went kaput when I joined my present company (where I became suicidal and instead of exercising, spent most of my time trying to decide which blunt instrument I could use to knock myself unconscious).

My terminal funk went on for six months. Now that I’m out of it, I’m trying to get back on that exercise wagon but the challenge is: how do you motivate that ass (the ass being you) when you’re not feeling particularly motivated/ inspired/ excited/ enthusiastic? It’s easy to get moving when you’re feeling motivated/ inspired/ excited/ enthusiastic but hello, when you’re not, it’s damn hard. So here they are: my tips to help you Motivate. That. Ass. Tried and tested.

1 DON’T THINK

For me, exercise is purely mental. It’s not about building muscle; it’s about winning the battle with the Syaitan of Sloth (otherwise known as SoS). Before I even get off my ass, the SoS comes and starts playing with my mind. I’d think about how I’d feel if I exercised: would I enjoy it? How I’d feel after: would I be happy? What would happen if I chose to stay in bed: would I regret it? How I’d feel doing something else instead: I can use this time to go to work earlier! After all, got so many things to do wor. And etc etc etc. And many times, the evil SoS wins. I wind up thinking so much that I end up crawling back into bed and not doing anything. And it just goes on and on … and that’s why I believe the key here is: DON’T THINK, JUST DO. Thinking is over-rated. You know the saying: 80% of success is showing up. That’s so true of exercise. 80% is getting off your ass; 20% is moving it.

2 SET ONE ALARM ONLY

Okay. Confession time: I have these horrible pre-set alarms – six of them. I have a 6.00 am, 6.30 am, 7.00 am, 7.30 am, 8.00 am and an 8.30 am. So, you already can guess what I do, right? I turn all of them on before I sleep. In the morning, the 6.00 am goes off. Toot toot toot toooooooot. I turn it off, go back to sleep. 6.30 am goes off. I turn it off, go back to sleep. 7.00 am goes off … you get the idea. On and on it goes until 8.30 am. This time, I really wake up because I know there are no more alarms left ma … and that’s why I believe the key here is: get rid of all the alarms and SET ONE ALARM ONLY. Duh.

3 AND MAKE IT WEIRD

Forget the nicely rounded 7.00 am or 7.30 am. For some reason, your brain will process 7.00 am as, “Eesh, so early … baru a minute ago was 6-something … can sleep some more. Snore.” And your brain will process 7.30 am as, “Eesh, still early what … not even 8 yet … can sleep some more. Snore.” And that’s why I believe the key here is: SET A WEIRD ALARM. Confuse your renegade brain by setting it at 7.43 am. It’s almost 8 so it’s like you’re kinda late and it’s too far from 6-something, so you’re not early.

4 HAVE A MANTRA

I saw this saying on www.webmd.com last year, which goes, “You never regret a run. There’s hardly anything in life you can say that about. You will regret a chocolate sundae.” Isn’t that great? I love it!!!

5 DON’T BE A TERRORIST

Terrorists are all-or-nothing people. They either love you (and will therefore, devote their lives to you) or hate you (and will therefore, blow you up). Okay okay, so I don’t actually know any terrorists, but I needed an analogy and couldn’t come up with anything else. Besides, terrorists are hot right now.

Anyways, I’m also all-or-nothing. I’m either all black or all white. All happy or all miserable. I either buy nothing or buy half a dozen of one thing. I have no middle ground. Unfortunately, I’m also like this with exercise. I’m either doing a solid one-hour every day or a solid nothing on none of the days. Middle ground would be say, 20 minutes three times a week. Yeah, I’m not so good with that. This is a problem because it means I either exercise every day like a crazy person or I sit on my ass every day drinking coffee, facebooking, blogging and youtubing (which incidentally, is what I do these days – I love it, btw!!!). But you know how they say that something better than nothing? Yeah, I need that middle ground. I read somewhere about perfectionists being the worst procrastinators. They will put off doing something because they fear they won’t be able to do it perfectly, so in the end, they do nothing. Omg. That’s so me!!! And that’s why I believe the key here is: DON’T BE A TERRORIST.

Must. Get. Off. Ass.

This picture motivates me to exercise. It’s a pic of me 9 years ago when I was studying abroad and gorging on pizzas and cheese and butter buns every day. I never realised how um, tubby I’d become until I came back to Malaysia where all the girls resembled toothpicks. Anyways, this pic worked pretty well in the motivation dept for a while but lately, I’ve been slacking off so I’m taking it out again to stare at it. Must. Get. Off. Ass. And. Exercise. Argh!!!!