I've stopped wearing my Baby G and my skin watch (the tan mark left by the watch after about 10 years of wearing it on the same spot) is almost gone. This disturbs me. I've been told that my Baby G makes me look young - but I don't care if I look young or not. Regardless, I look young anyway and now I'm not wearing my Baby G and it's gone on for quite a while now and the nostalgic, sentimental part of me is not ready to put it down and leave it behind. I still need my Baby G.
It's 9 p.m. and I just ate 3 Gardenia raisin buns even though I'm not the least bit hungry. I can't believe I just broke my 'no food after 8 p.m.' rule. I can't help it; I'm addicted to these things. They're just so yummy. Gardenia's raisin loaf is super yummy too. Just last night I had three pieces of bread at Cafe Cartel at 10.30 p.m., plus an iced latte with what I gathered from my mildly disturbed stomach was full-cream milk.
Oh my god my tummy is so gonna balloon.
And I bought that strawberry chocolate apollo thingy from Meiji which I absolutely love and I ate half of it while coming home from town. Before that I had pasta for dinner.
Did I mention the ballooning tummy?
When I came home I announced to my brother that I returned bearing chocolates. He always finishes up my candies in, like, five minutes, therefore aiding and abetting me in my weight-conscious...ness. Thing. Whatever. So I shoved the tube of delicious strawberry chocolates to him, but not without eating one last one first.
I used to eat it all the time when I was a kid. I still like it enough to spend $3.20 to make myself (feel) fat.
Okay, so yes, I'm kind of obsessed with what I eat, the amount I eat, and above all else, the extra, unnecessary things that I eat. You have to understand: After successfully shedding like 8 kilos the last I checked (December last year, in Bangkok) and after losing enough weight to drop like 2-3 sizes, I'd be damn crazy to pile the weight back on. It's kind of akin to finishing this gorgeous piece of art over a six-month period, just to splash black paint all over it (love Rolling Stones' "Paint It Black" - okay, random) and ruining the whole thing. It's crazy, isn't it? Insanity.
Having said that, I absolutely hate the way my body looks. I hate it so much that I go out of my way to avoid looking at myself in the mirror when I do the showering thing. Honestly, it's got to a point where I'd completely get it if I die without ever getting laid because I'm just...completely unattractive. I haven't even the words to describe it.
Oh, forget it. To quote Louisa from Hard Times, What Does It Matter?
I slept at 2 a.m. I reached home at 12, showered and everything, and watched American Idol at 1 a.m. It was damn good to able to fast-forward through the pointless shit, like Ryan Seacrest making pointless and boring small talk with the contestants, small talk I don't give a crap about. I mean, what's the point of asking questions like, "How do you feel the competition has changed your life?" The answer is obvious and it's not like anyone's going to say, "It's made my life hell and I hate that I'm here." Seriously.
Anyway, Blake Lewis is soooo fucking hot, oh my god. He's not hot hot, but he's just so cute and charming and last week he was definitely hot. He sang a The Cure song and the song was boring but he was so swoon-worthy and I was all ga-ga over him. That is, as ga-ga as The New Me can possibly get, anyway, which is not that ga-ga as compared to the way I used to be. It's like, growing up. Or something.
I also kinda have a girl crush on Haley 'cause she's hot. Her legs are hot. Her boobs are hot. And she's pretty. But she won't last long so yeah.
I was going to do something impulsive but the opportunity failed to present itself and after a while the urge wore off so too bad. I went to town with my mom and I bought a long skirt and a black v-neck top with frilly sleeves that I don't really like anymore. On the plus side, it was only $12.
Nowadays I refuse to spend more than $20 on a top that isn't from the three labels/brand/whatever I usually buy from. Bottoms that aren't from those three labels/brand/whatever cannot cost more than $40. I just find it retarded to spend more than those two figures on clothes of dubious quality that die on me after, like, two washings. It's happened a lot before and I'm really tired of spending too much for way too little, especially since my bank account balance is forever in deficit.
Actually, right now it's the healthiest it's been in a really long time. I want to preserve that. Because having money is good. Withholding your ability to spend is even better.
(I.E., it's not that I can't afford it; it's just that I don't wanna spend. And speaking of i.e., THW says it a lot.)
I like THW enough to want to take his Unjust Enrichment course, nevermind that I don't even know what the hell it's about, apart from the obvious. Why do I like THW? I don't know either. I don't even talk in tutorial, but what else is new, right? So yeah. Et cetera.
I hate it when people ask me retarded questions, I hate it when people tell me things with the obvious intention of seeking attention, I hate it when people misinterpret what I say and then go on this high-and-mighty sermon about how I should live my life, I hate it when people project qualities onto me that are not remotely who I am, I hate it when people expect me to be a certain way and get all upset when it is revealed to them that that's not remotely who I am either, I hate it when people tell me that this is not who you are when it's obviously who I am because I've been this way since forever and I've known myself longer than they've known me, I hate it that people don't bloody understand the first thing about me and yet are under this stupid-ass delusion that they do, I hate it when people don't listen to me and only hear what I say, I hate it when people ask me all sorts of shit when it's obvious I don't want to talk, above all else I hate that the people I love have as much faith in me as they do because sometimes I don't think I deserve it.
My mom thinks that I am capable of getting good grades as long as I study. She thinks it's some kind of sign of brilliance that I'm getting C's with minimal, last-minute studying. I told her, "There are people who cram a few days before the paper and get better grades than me." There are people so much smarter than me that it's quite a waste of time trying to compete; except I don't tell her that because she'll just say, "You're as good as them."
Thanks for the undeserved vote of confidence. I don't have the heart to tell her that a C is kind of the default grade that everyone starts off with; it doesn't mean anything more than You Showed Up for the Paper and Didn't Turn In a Blank Page, Major Props to You. That's all there is to it, Mom.
I think I really am going through some kind of an identity/existentialist crisis. But you know what? Forget it. It's not worth talking about.
To be really honest, lovey-dovey couples that PDA all over the fucking place annoy the shit out of me. I wish they'd drop off the face of the earth forever and ever and never come back.