Black T

This is absolutely true: yesterday, someone remarked, rather hastily, to me;

“Do me a favor, hon, stop wearing black. It doesn’t do you any good”

I was stunned. ‘Why’d she say that?’ What nerve, some stranger try to hanging clouds over me and offer me some fashion tips. While I know I am not exactly mingling with the Beckhams but she isn’t exactly Donatella Versace either, so puhhlease!!

I was about to put dagger in her heart, quite literally, when I realized, she probably didn’t mean no harm, so I let it slip this time. But I have news for you girl;

I do own more than one black shirt!



Erm, OK. So is exactly my point. But what’s wrong with that?

Call me freak-of-nature, nut-jobs or even Hannibal Lecter but I couldn’t be more normal than any of you folks out there. Surely as a perfectly normal person, I do have a quirk or two but owning a closet-ful of black T-shirts wouldn’t qualify me for psychological studies subject, isn't it?

Thus, I feel obligated to explain myself - now that my “nonconformist” fashion style is under scrutiny - so that the next time you see me wearing the same T-shirt for 5 days running, please take note, it probably isn’t the same shirt. I just don’t prefer other colors.

1. Black T-shirt makes me….urm less fat. The wonder of dark colors redefine my bodyline and shape. (You should see me in Orange)

2. It makes me a little bit fairer - as comparison (need I to explain this?)

3. It screams ‘takes me seriously!’ (I-am-in-emo-band kinda serious!)

4. Easy to clean. No visible spots after eating Laksa or Mee Kari. And no Clorox or pounding on the rocks is necessary for those hard-to-rid-off stains.

5. Finally, the fashionista world over mantra; “You can never go wrong with a nice, black t-shirt” (well, not exactly, but who’s wearing little black dress, anyway?)

So these are why I love the color black so much. It does wonders to my body shape and skin tone and more importantly - my self-esteem. Black is timeless and so is my style.

Muah Muah Muah.

Erm, Ok maybe a short visit to the shrink wouldn't hurt.

A Very Bad Tonsil Of Mine

Let me tell you an old news: I am no stranger to many doctors and medical practitioners in this country. That’s right, since I was young I would always find a way to get myself acquainted to the neighborhood doctors; be it ripped earlobe, scalded skin, ruptured bones, slipped disc…I am the medical marvel! I bring in big bucks to the healthcare industry I tell you. (I once got myself a tiger-eyes bracelet all the way from Kuching on friends’ advice to ward off bad luck and guess what, it was chop off within weeks I was wearing them! So go figure!)

So if you have an aversion to descriptions of carnage, you probably don’t want to continue….

Well, it was all happened two weeks ago, when I suddenly felt a piercing cold in my stomach and the skin around my arms started to develop with some kind of itchy rashes. (Not very sightful but no photo is necessary to describe the condition…erm, you get the idea) That wasn’t always a good sign to me so naturally I went to see a doctor.

As expected the doctor said it was a normal allergic reaction to something I have eaten the night before – which kinda a lot! So he gave me some cream and Panadols but no anti-biotic. Anti-biotic is bad for allergy I was told.

And I thought I was taken care of and good to go but NOOOOO…. merely hours after that fated visit my temperature skyrocketing to the new height, over 40 Celcius! I was literally flattened and I swear I thought I was experiencing hallucination. No amount of Panadols and Paracetamol would do it for now.

So I mustered some strength and drove back to the clinic only to find another doctor manning the shift. I told her the whole story again and after much closer inspection, surprise! surprise! She came out with her own, different diagnose altogether - that I was in fact suffering from a very bad case, acute, swollen tonsil - and that rashes was just the side effect. I was stumped. How couldn’t I know better? I knew I should have insisted on their practicing medical certificates! Sigh, but I thought that was just rude.

I went back home, grudgingly, with the new “disease’ in tow, knowing too well it’s all temporary and it could change to anything worse anytime soon.

And I remained in my bed for the next five days after that – entertaining the hallucinations. What a rotten ways to spend your weekend and some of your weekdays! Erghh!

Truth be told, up until now, I still don’t feel 100%. I still feel weak and uninterested about anything. So typing this post is sort of the conversational equivalent of an out-of-the-body experience.

I can’t feel a thing.