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While I am waiting for my hair to dry after my post-workout shower from 24hr Fitness and looking at my uploaded pics from Vegas, I ponder why it is such a big deal to have bigger boobs.

LET ME GET SOMETHiNG OFF MY CHEST

Men staring unwaveringly at my chest used to bother and angered me more if they looked away when caught. At age 13, my C cups confused my emotions on whether I should feel guilty for liking my massive growth spurt or be disgusted at some of the special attention from the “uncles” (creepy old men at clubs).

When we were in China, the pink tank top that never had any complaints were causing commotion from classmates who were embarrassed to be standing next to my almost DD pushed up knockers. Granted we were at the Buddhist temple, but it was hot and raining. Otherwise, I would not have any problems wearing just a bikini top. We already wore a condom, I mean a poncho, while watching Xi Hu Water Impressions in the rain for two hours. There’s only two instances I don’t mind getting wet: in the shower and in the pool =P

Did I mention an old man came up to me in Beijing and nonchalantly-blatantly put his hand on my left breast? Yea… no concept of personal space.

RED CARPET @ Ei8HT

Also, when my fellow breast-blessed best friend Bernadette and I were standing in line for the bathroom at Houston’s new club Ei8ht, an angry, flat-chested white girl came up and pointed an inch away from her boobies and shouted, “THOSE ARE NOT REAL, YOU’RE ASiAN!!!” It is not the first time we have been accused of surgical enhancement, not that there’s anything wrong with plastics. However, I should never defend what God gave me nor do I have to argue that they are naturel.

Just the other night, even the lover shared his “observation” that I must like wearing low cleavage clothes. Perplexed and a bit offended, I retorted what I thought was overtly obvious since he just finished telling me how much he loved my big tits while I was on top, “did you ever think that they have been a bane to my fashionista freedom?” Many a cute outfits I sadly sacrificed in order to conform and not offend anyone. “Cannot pass the biggie boobs” was clearly my slogan behind most fitting rooms since I can remember. In Asia, I am considered odd and way too big;  wo shi hen da. While shopping inside China’s trendy malls,  Josh and MC can attest that there was no point trying on anything for I was beyond XXL. Imagine how frustrating it is to buy only shoes and belts?

It is not my fault they do not fit or it looks like I am spilling over. Don’t you all think I haven’t tried to squeeze them into smaller sizes? I end up short of breath or popping buttons and splitting seams. For many years, I have contemplated getting breast reduction. Having huge boobies constantly afflict me with back pain, it should not give me head and heart aches.

Kim Basinger once said, “I don’t have time to be classified as difficult, and I don’t have time to care.”

So, when I do find a dress that fits me well in ALL the right places or a costume I can clearly day dream about all day because it makes me feel good, I am go’n wear it, dagnabbit!!! It is never ever for you. Ergo, if I am aware you have eyes to see and am not offended when you are hypnotized, then spare me the psychobabble.

I am not into that mainstream stifling, stereotypical bondage mentality that good girls should only wear sweaters. Heck, I love layers in the fall. However, in Houston’s hot and humid summer, I prefer tube tops and sarongs! Need I remind people that this is the land of the free or that if you cannot think for yourself, then you’re doomed anyway? You do not have to remind me that when I look like an exotic dancer (stripper is such a derogatory term, unless sexy is in front of it), the visual porn will attract the wrong men and advertise the wrong message. First of all, I am not one of those girls that flaunt and use it just because they have it. I  have yet to accept all the drinks brought to me by bartenders. Those that know me can attest I can buy my own, thank you. I have found that men are perplexed by me once our conversation starts. “You are not as I imagined you to be.” To which I reply, “Oh, yeah? That’s because you were looking down there instead of up here.”

Just goes to show you that it is strongly better to be disliked for who you really are than to be loved by who you are not.

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Sadly, some people mistakenly believe that their loneliness is a product of another person’s abscence.

Early this morning, a girl friend I have not heard from since she got married two years ago woke me from my designated sleep-in Munday. Although my mobile’s screen’s still selectively showing numbers or recognizing contacts whenever it feels like it, I decided to answer the call. Because I could barely piece together the words I did understand in the midst of bawling , I decided to meet her up for brunch. Never did I expect her husband to be the one that would cheat on his pregnant wife and divorce her through text messaging. His reason was because he realized afterwards that she is not what he needed in his life.

“Wow,” was all I could mutter at first. Then, you know me… I preached strength and forgiveness. Honestly, what’s done is done. Etc, etc, etc… As I spent almost an hour listening to her story [wallowing in woe, lamenting her loss], she asked why I was not offering words to console her or “saying shit” about him at all. For those of you who know me, I am sure you can picture my face at how annoyed I was with her moment of stupidity. We all make mistakes; ergo, shut up and move on.

Am I supposed to say forget him? You’re better than him? What for? You should know that, already.Why waste my time and energy, too? You’ve probably dehydrated yourself from crying and not eating. He left you three months ago. He stopped thinking of you when he had that affair. Obviously, he does not want you; so, why give him any more of you?

That made her stop crying instantly. At first she was mad, but if she was looking for sugarcoated sweetness, she called the wrong person. Ivory towers belong in fairy tales that we believed in childhood; we’re in adulthood now. I’m sorry, but I think we need real people around us who’ll tell the truth in your face. How many times are we all going to get hurt? Oh, plenty and maybe too many times to count.

“The world breaks EVERYone,” Hemingway once wrote, “and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.” A broken heart is simply a heart that has a chance to heal and become stronger.  Right now, it is bleeding, just bleeding… All wounds must go through pain and inflammation before it can heal. I told her to put a band-aid on it and quit over-emphasizing on that bastard.

Eventually, we all experience that being in love is unexpectedly intoxicating, that special someone so compelling, that lovers often drop some of the obligations and rules that dominated their lives before they met.

Hence, why I shall stay single forever…  that’s another post.

I’ll only do one thing: keep you in my prayers, my friend. Live and stay strong =D

.

literally means

“dried fish,”

a Japanese expression

used in one of my fave J-drama “Hotaru No Hikari”

to describe the main character,

a woman in her 20s

who has renounced the pursuit of romance.

Thots on turning thirty:

that makes me a “dried up woman?”


Someone said once:

that women are like Christmas cakes. After the 25th, they belong in bargain bins.”

Further added:

“Almost the 31st… pretty soon it’ll pass midnight and that’s a new year for you.”

Allow me to pimp-slap that fool.


I try not to live in fear; however, AGiNG seriously scares me to death.

Since I turned 13, I was anxious about all the major markers: 21, 25, 30, 40.

Childhood memories of my hunched over maternal great grandmother in her 90’s left me with quite an impression that summer.

Instead of listening to the exposed roots of an ancient tree’s advice, I stared at her sun spots and skin tags, wondering what was written in those wrinkles around her eyes.

Taking care of the neglected elderly of America did not help either.

Before,  I used to proudly brand myself  forever 21

Wenzdai even gave me a James Avery charm for shamelessly saying so.

Today, I told classmates I shall be 25 for the next few years,

regardless of how many times the youngins will try to correct me.

bwahahahahaha

I’m Asian, I can pull it off, right?

Hey, isn’t the 80’s horribly com!ng back?

Gosh, I just had a RDA flashback o.O

[McGyver theme song blares in the back]

I talked to someone earlier today for 2.5 hours 0.o
regarding how hard it was to find the other half of your heart.
HUH?!?!?!? WTF!
Why would you believe that stupid Tom Cruise line, “you complete me.”
She got hurt, then mad
when I told her that it is a problem to think you need to have another person to complete yourself.
That’s a Hallmark Cards ploy…

As if i didn’t have enough to deal with in school…
Not really interested in finding my soul mate right now, anyway.
I also don’t understand why getting married before 30 is such a big deal in Asian culture.
At my sister’s wedding, the host pointed out that
“I’m single and very available…”
Broadcasted in English then Chinese!
That was most embarrassing (´_`*) “
Honestly, I thot that I’m actually a better person for not having kids or a husband.
bwahahahaha, I’m just glad my mother doesn’t stress me as much as hers.

Shoot me if my K-or-J-drama addict self still blindly believe that Daniel Henney

is going to propose to me one day ;P
drooooLing @ his hotness teeheehee

Ergo, unless that happens… access denied!

She said that men are too difficult to deal with.

I don’t think that it was supposed to be easy.
Not enough flavors would prove to be too boring.
Remember, I always said:
to go ahead and collect
and collect enough
until you can select
>____<

Of course, I don’t mean you ought to go on a dating frenzy or sleep around.
I just want you’all to experience, learn, try, and taste something new.
There is no guarantee, for nothing is perfect… gablah blah blah…
Your soulmate is not supposed to make you super happy, he/she is supposed to challenge you so you can grow to the best you can be.
That’ll mean “discussions”, compromise, head pains, heartaches, and sacrifice.

Here’s what I strongly believe:

Dating = “Meet” Market

Although it might be shocking to know I’m conservative when it comes to relationships,
you must go shopping for the right person.
In order to meet “the one” for you, you have to talk to a lot of people, make a lot of offers, counter offers, negotiate, reject, and accept.
I seriously wanted to start handing out application forms because I was getting tired getting all these losers and a**holes.
Why shouldn’t I have prerequisites for a serious merger?
In the end, I think I’ve made a pretty smart choice by taking a bold step forward.

And, please, DO NOT sell yourself short.
First dates or convos are supposed to be like first interviews.
So what if I choose not to have a second one?
You deserve to be picky; we’re not penguins.
Imagine GOD loves you very, very much…
Think about the level of unconditional love He has for you and that no one else can come close.
If you keep that in mind, maybe you’ll use your head more than your heart.
[I should listen to my advice, eh?]

Why do single people sit at home and wait for the phone to ring?
Friend, I doubt “your prince charming” is dropping from heaven.
You ain’t Brad Pitt or Angelina Jolie, right?
You’d best go to the market,
even it it’s only the supermarket or Wally’s World lang.

Everything in life is a process.

Act now, but wisely.

His 30th birthday passed.
And, just like the hurricane, black out.
I received no calls.

I can still feel pieces of him piercing my hurting heart, but not leaving as deep of a wound as he did for the past four suffocating years.
Tears are threatening to well up my tired eyes, but I summon strength from somewhere above and remind myself I ought to go to sleep to avoid poofy eyes in the morning.
There is much to be said of weakness shadowing greatness because it could easily overpower anything depending on where the sunlight hits.
It is a cycle I am trying desperately to diffuse, praying hard that each moment shall leave me standing straight with my shoulders back and head high.
I long for brighter days, not dragging days where I can barely get up out of bed and become engulfed by daydreams or relived sad sentiments.
There is a fighter inside me wanting to explode in magnificent beauty, like a butterfly’s grace after hibernating inside a cocoon.

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