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Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.
I’ve been losing weight. I didn’t notice it of course – you simply don’t notice small changes in yourself because it happens so gradually. Today however, I took a look at myself in a shop window as I was walking past on my way to a meeting for work, and it suddenly hit me. Perhaps not so much weight, but general body shape – my legs are slimmer and my hips not as wide. Still have the stomach, but well, you can’t have it all. Of course, I celebrated by scoffing down a huge bag of potato chips, which probably undid a lot of good.
I haven’t intended on losing weight. It was merely a result of a few lifestyle changes:
I wouldn’t want to lose any more weight than I already have though – I already look outlandish enough with my out-sized breasts on the body I do have. It’s already impossible to buy clothes; I went shopping with Dylan on the weekend and threw a tantrum and got all sulky because everything I liked, wouldn’t have fit my body. If they had fit my body, they wouldn’t fit my F-cups.
Which when you think about it, is actually really sad. I have to actively curtail my taste in clothing because of my body shape. I’m used to dressing older and more mature than I’d actually like to, because mature clothing is the only type that will fit my chest. I have never dressed my age. What I’d really want to wear are rainbow halter neck dresses in floaty chiffon and silk…which will never happen. I can’t even buy a print Tshirt because I end up warping the print. I can’t even wear short-shorts because showing both my legs and my chest (no matter what I wear, I end up showing my chest) would just be too much.
It’s fucking ridiculous – and you bet your arse that once I’ve breastfed the three kids I plan on having and have had my breast lift and reduction (C-cups, here I come!), I’m going to indulge and wear the youthful clothing I never had the chance to wear in my youth. Forty-year-old mutton dressed as lamb? That’ll be me, and I don’t care what anyone thinks!
Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.
So I’ve finally got most of my room in order, in that the bedroom furniture is in place, curtains are up, and everything’s stored and organised as I like it. It’s a small room, but really, I don’t own enough to require a larger space.

I’ve done pretty well with minimalising my wardrobe. I’ve gone from this, to the above – just what you can see in the chest of drawers and portable wardrobe. Ideally I’d be able to minimalise it further, so that it would all be contained in the wardrobe without what’s currently in the chest of drawers, but that’s more a pipe dream, and quite unrealistic.
As a form of girly/lazy interior design, I’ve turned one wall into a live display of accessories. I have sparkly necklaces and colourful scarves – why not turn it into a wall display? The other wall is still very bare – I’m thinking some large framed abstract painting or macro photograph would go well there, but that’s something that can wait until I’m a bit more flush with money.
Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.
Where do I even start? Let’s try and break it down into categories and organise the information, because this is going to be a long arse entry:
How it happened: I don’t think it’s any secret that I’ve never really been the daughter that my parents would have chosen for themselves. Past entries on this blog (check under the ‘Family’ category) have made it blatantly clear that their traditional strict Asian values are completely incongruent with my own. Put simply, they’re about as stereotypically Asian as you can get, and I’ve been told repeatedly that I’m about as white Australian liberal as they come. I drink beer! I enjoy pre-marital sex with white men with huge penises! I believe in equal rights for women! I like long extended holidays and don’t work six days a week, 52 weeks of the year! I have a tattoo! I’m immodest and flaunt my body in bikinis! I go out and party regularly!
And, I guess the difference between their actual daughter and their ideal daughter finally got too much for them. I was out all last Tuesday night, and was on my way out on Wednesday night, when they stopped me and basically yelled something along the lines of “If you take one step out that door, you’re no longer our daughter, don’t bother ever coming back, etc”. At which point I just thought:
Wait. What? I’m turning 23 in a week, I’ve been paying my way in this house in both a monetary and supportive sense since I was a teenager, and they still want to dictate when I go out? I’m not irresponsible when it comes to my social life – I hold down two jobs (have had three jobs in the past), I study, I organise their business and my brother’s schooling, and I balance all my obligations with a social life. So fuck that, and fuck them and their stupid antiquated ideas about propriety.
So with those thoughts, I left. I took that one step out of the door, and have only been back to pick up my belongings when there was no one else in the house. Which, by the way, I managed to fit into my new car, so I obviously own less than one Camry’s worth, considering the Colt is a micro car! I own much less than I originally thought, which bodes well for the whole minimalist and bare-boned essentials lifestyle I’m slowly working towards.
I have spoken to my brother, and essentially told him to behave himself and keep his head down for a while until our parents simmer down, but I haven’t spoken to my parents since I left a week ago. Nor do I have any intention to for a few months – put simply, I’m just too angry to see them or even speak to them. Given a few months break, things might improve enough so that we can meet again as adults, but for now, I just need to be away from them.
( Read the rest of this entry » )Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.
Earlier this evening, I announced on Twitter that I was kicked out of the house, pretty much permanently. Do not worry. I’m fine. I have places to stay, a regular income, and I’ll be just fine. I’ll find a way to pick up all my possessions and load it into my car when there’s no one in the house, and I won’t be deprived of anything at all.
Needless to say, blogging will be last on the list of priorities over the next few weeks. I should still be twittering though, so feel free to follow me for regular updates on how angry I am, and how fucking unreasonable and irrational my parents are.
Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.
And I feel pretty flash with my alloy wheels and pedals, and my leather-wrapped steering wheel. Time for a road trip to put the car through its paces I think.
Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.
There’s an old adage, “You can catch more flies with honey”. After the day I had yesterday, I can confirm that I’m not one of those calm and patient people who live by that rule – rather, I’m more likely to be a real cold and nasty bitch and throw a tantrum if things aren’t going the way I like.
The loan car that I was given last Monday to use until my new car arrives, was a piece of shit. A 1997 Holden Commodore with performance stickers all over its back windscreen, it had been through a real flogging by the various fully sick bros who had driven it before me. The steering was shot, the windscreen was by no means roadworthy (one knock, and it would have shattered), the indicator switch was unsteady, the battery light kept flashing on the dashboard, and it was just bad. I took it back to the dealership on the Saturday (the first chance I had), complaining about the state of the car and detailing the various things wrong with it, and asked for a more suitable car to drive until my car comes in. They made the excuse that there were no other loan cars available at the time, and unhappy with the non-service I’d received since I signed on the dotted line for the new car, I left the dealership.
An hour later after having been to the nearby fresh food market, the alternator on the battery died, and there was no way the car was going anywhere. I was absolutely livid at this point, especially considering that I had just complained about the battery in the car, so called up the dealership again, saying something along the lines of: “I was in an hour ago complaining about the car, it’s now dead, and I want someone here with a new replacement car in the next ten minutes or else I’m going to absolutely crack the shits and cancel the $19K sale and take my business to another dealer”. There were also possibly more “fucks” and “shits” and “cunts” in that sentence, in order to better convey the amount of rage I was feeling.
And what do you know, they manage to find a 2002 Ford Falcon (in good condition!) for me to drive in the meantime, to replace the Commodore. WHAT A FUCKING JOKE. “Oh, there’s no more loan cars available” my arse. Being a bitch might be nasty, but it gets results. On a bright note, my brand spanking new Mitsubishi Colt will be ready for me to pick up on Tuesday afternoon, and I’ll soon be zipping about town in a shiny red car!
Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.
So I had my graduation ceremony for my undergraduate degree today, and you know what the best part was?

Having someone important from every part of my life there. My family were there. My cousin was there. A high school friend was there. A friend from my first trip to China was there. Friends from my second trip to China were there. My boyfriend was there. I felt very very loved, with all my loved ones there. Another very awesome part to graduating, was the fact that I looked absolutely radiant, if I do say so myself.