I Lurve My Victoria’s Secret Body

I don’t get it. Victoria’s Secret (of all people) is launching a campaign about (of all things) loving your body. It’s like MacDonald’s launching a campaign about health and weight loss. Oh wait. Bad example.

So anyways, the “Body For Everybody, Love Your Body” campaign centres around a new bra line but with a supposedly nobler, more inclusive approach. At least that’s what the folks at Victoria’s Secret had in mind.

What you have is essentially a bunch of lingerie models with zero percentage of body fat, pin-thin limbs, concave stomachs and protruding collarbones posing nonchalantly, wind whipping through their glossy locks, come-hither stares, coquettish gazes.

And they appear in a commercial too, where they frolick around in bras and panties talking about what they love about a man’s body. Um, perhaps I’m a little slow today but isn’t this supposed to be about women’s bodies? Who’s loving whose body now? Are the women loving their own bodies? Or are they loving the men’s bodies? Or are the women just plain hating their bodies after watching this commercial? And exactly whose body is the “Body for Everybody”? The new bra line is named Body, so I guess that means the bra is for everybody, so what are they trying to say with that? Not much, as far as I can see.

But then again, I’m no Victoria’s Secret model, so okay. I’ll buy the bra but I don’t think I’m about to experience a transformation in the body image department, if you know what I mean. My verdict? I think they should stick to what they do best (ie. make women feel like crap for not having abs like Alessandra Ambrosio) and leave the beauty do-gooding to Dove.

Screw Discipline. I’m Going Back To Bed

I feel like crap. I have run no more than three times since I got back from the Singapore Marathon in December and I will say it again: I feel like crap. I’m battling a combination of wretched guilt, some extra poundage (I don’t know how much cos I don’t own a scale) and a crippling feeling of malaise. Before I bumble any further, I should explain my use of the word ‘run’. By ‘run’, I mean a pathetic attempt at walking and jogging and whining all at once – a Herculean feat especially since I have literally crawled back to square one as far as my stamina is concerned. It’s awful. I don’t know where that 2009-ME has gone. The one with all the discipline, drive, enthusiasm, energy … it’s like she died last December and left this miserable 2010-ME in her place. I do not like this 2010-ME. It’s a defective model.

So I’m going to get my act together … right … after … Chinese New Year. No no no no-o-o-o-o. Right now, right now. To get started, I shall now inspire myself with some quotes about the one thing I need the most right now: discipline.

“It was character that got us out of bed, commitment that moved us into action, and discipline that enabled us to follow through.” (Zig Ziglar)… My commitment and discipline have gone bust but I think I still have a smidgen of that character left. Now if only I can find it …

“Discipline is remembering what you want.” (David Campbell) … I seem to have forgotten in the face of other seemingly important, more ‘pressing’ things …

“Lack of discipline leads to frustration and self-loathing.” (Marie Chapian) … Self-loathing – yeah, plenty of that going around right now …

“We must all suffer from one of two pains: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret. The difference is discipline weighs ounces while regret weighs tons.” (Jim Rohn) … I have a horrible feeling that regret will indeed one day weigh tons – literally …

“No evil propensity of the human heart is so powerful that it may not be subdued by discipline.” (Seneca) … Well, I guess the desire to lie around in bed and have bacon bits for breakfast can be considered by some to be ‘evil’, can’t it? …

“If we do not discipline ourselves, the world will do it for us.” (William Feather) … Well, either the world or nature itself …

Hmm, so am I sufficiently inspired? I don’t know. Ask me tomorrow when I’m trying to get out of bed early in the morning. Ask me then.

“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.

Skeletons, Sliced Ham, Grandma & Barbecued Chicken

My mother screwed me up the other day for missing breakfast, lunch and eating dinner right before midnight. She launches into mother mode and tells me I must have regular meals, otherwise I won’t have energy to work. I tell her, on the contrary, I feel absolutely fabulous and full of energy. And no, I am not being sarcastic. I wasn’t denying myself nourishment; I was just too busy to eat. She doesn’t buy it. I accuse her of not eating too. How is this different from fasting, I ask. It’s true: you fast for days, eating no food, sometimes not even drinking water. That’s different, she says. How so? That is ‘starvation’ with a purpose. Such double standards. So ‘starvation’ is okay only if you’re doing it in the name of world peace, an end to poverty and other ‘noble’ goody-goody causes? Well, I have a purpose too. It’s called meeting-my-deadlines-otherwise-I-get-screwed. She warns me to knock it off or I’ll wind up all shriveled and skeleton-looking and people don’t like skeletons.

Speaking of skeletons, my uncle came by for a visit the other day. His first comment when he sees me is, you’ve lost so much weight! (He makes it sound like I used to be a two-ton truck). Better eat more rice, he says. Too skinny, not nice. He pokes at my collarbone. So bony, he says. Um yeah, if I didn’t have bones, I’d collapse into the ground like a packet of sliced ham.

Speaking of sliced ham, my grandmother used to chide me for not eating enough rice. Her definition of “enough” was two full bowls. I could eat a truckload of vegetables, meat and lotus root but as long as I didn’t chug down two full bowls of rice, she’d wonder why I was ‘starving’ myself. She was really old and aneroxia hadn’t been invented yet, so she couldn’t accuse me of not eating to be thin. She just thought I was a crazy person who wouldn’t eat rice. She warned me that I was getting too thin on the face. She thought I should have a nice round face, like the moon. Look at her (she pointed to my fat cousin). See how nice and round her face is? You should look like that. Uh sure, grandma, whatever you say.

Speaking of grandma, I was talking to a friend the other day. She is really skinny and I’m talking really skinny (italics all mine) even by anorexic supermodel standards. She tells me to eat more cos I’m “very thin”. I look at her in disbelief and wonder if she’d looked at herself in a mirror lately. I wonder if all anorexics suffer from body dysmorphia. Meanwhile I’m shoveling barbecued chicken down my throat as she slices the two peas on her plate with a knife.

Speaking of barbecued chicken, I got myself weighed after completing the 10K at the Singapore Marathon. As I was standing there waiting for my turn to tip the scales, I wondered why the organisers decided to have a weighing station. It would be so de-motivating to discover that you’d gained weight or hadn’t lost an ounce despite all that hard work earlier. I spoke too soon. I had gained 2.5kg. Sure, I was wearing my running shoes which were caked in mud (could’ve contributed a hefty pound or two), I had guzzled five paper cups of water and 100PLUS (sugar is heavy) and I was still wearing my running bib (it wasn’t made of feathers, you know), so the numbers were probably inaccurate.

Speaking of feathers … um, what was I talking about again? Oh yeah, skeletons, sliced ham, grandma and barbecued chicken. I did have a point somewhere. If only I can remember what it was.

It’s Good To Be Chubby, Says Study

It’s half-way to being official: being chubby has its benefits. Researchers did a study (read it here and here) on 11,000 people over a 12-year period and found that people with a BMI of 25 to 29.9 were less likely to die than those with a BMI of 18.5 to 24.9. One of the authors of this study said and I quote, “Overweight is protective.”

What?? Overweight is protective? Protect us from what, I wonder. Death, perhaps.

Last I checked, my BMI was 19. Of course, that was five years ago and I haven’t checked since. I don’t believe in BMIs (just like I don’t believe in weighing myself). But now, they’re saying the fats we try so hard to avoid are actually good for us and can help us live longer. Aiya, why early-early never say?

I don’t know about these researchers, but I’ve come up with a few reasons in support of chubbiness:

1. You look jollier
2. Your butt doesn’t hurt when you sit for a long time
3. You’re nicer to hug
4. You’re more likely to have headlights and a bumper (if you know what I mean)
5. You can eat donuts and cookie sandwiches
6. You live longer
7. You’ll make a nicer-looking granny

Okay, I’m sold. It’s time to chase the chubs! (Of course I’m aware that this isn’t the actual meaning of chubbychasing but hey, if the shoe fits). My first order of business is to up my donut allowance to three a week. Yippy

Don’t Hate Me Because I’m Skinny

Um, this is the new Miss Australia Universe? I know la today’s standards of beauty are skinny, skinny and skinny but even this is pushing it. You’re telling me, of all the gorgeous girls in Australia, this one is the fairest of them all? This is a joke right? You people are kidding right?

You can include her in the HBO documentary Thin’s cast of sad little malnourished matchstick lookalikes and she’d fit right in (I don’t know about you, but the Miss Universe girl looks even more emaciated than the girl on the documentary poster). She’s gotta be the skinniest Miss Universe contender I’ve ever seen – at 5 feet 11 inches (5 feet 11 inches?!), 49kg (49kg?!) and a BMI of 15 (when 18 is the bare-bones minimum!), she looks like she just crawled off the Amistad. I mean, I’m all for that jazz about beauty coming in every shape and size but hello-o-o-o-o???

But then again, beauty pageants aren’t just about looks ma. It’s also about talent and poise and intelligence (big fat snort), so maybe I’m being a little unfair to this bag of bones. She probably wowed the judges with some amazing talent like flute-playing or hair-twirling or something. I’m sure she deserved the title … and I guess this is the standard we mere mortals have to aspire to now, huh? I guess I can forget about the five alfalfa sprouts I was gonna have for lunch.

Oh, The (Exercise) Guilt Is Killing Me

I haven’t worked out since Jan 10 – it was the day before I left for Tokyo. It has been a grand total of 18 days. Gulp. That’s 2½ weeks. More than half a month. To make matters worse, I’ve been piling on the ba-kua, kuih kapit and pineapple cookies for the past several days … plus I’ll be going to Cambodia this Saturday and won’t be back in KL until next Thursday. Oh god.

I know what it is: my routine’s been screwed up this month. It’s been a very chaotic first-month-of-the-year – there have been some significant changes taking place and I guess I’ve just been too distracted to work out. For me, working out has always been more mental than anything. If I’m not in the right frame of mind, I find it so much harder to do.

This is silly. I should be looking forward to my trip this weekend instead of mulling over how many more ‘workout days’ I’m gonna be missing. Besides, I know the dust will settle once I get back next week and I’ll get back into The Routine … and until then, I should stop treating this like it’s some kind of huge failure on my part.

*Gives self two tight slaps*

Yeah. I guess that’s what I’ll do.