Soup for the soul.

I have to be up in less than six hours for work, and I’ll probably be full of regrets tomorrow, but since I can’t sleep, let me tell you another nice story from my archives. I may have shared this story before, but my memory can be a bit fuzzy, so you can skip this if you’ve read this before haha. It’s a very very long post too lol.

In 2014, I was diagnosed with Tuberculosis because my dad got it, and obviously with an immune system weaker than most, fate dealt me another hand. Of course the whole journey to being officially diagnosed wasn’t so simplistic, and that’s where the story comes.

It started with this persistent cough that wouldn’t go away. Like I mentioned before, I’m a bit of a hypochondriac, so I went to see a doctor immediately. After multiple rounds of cough syrups and inhalers, the cough wouldn’t go away so I went to see a specialist. My x-rays came back worrying. There was a spot in my right lung that didn’t seem normal, and it was quite big, so the doctor sent me to do a CT scan and run some blood tests as well. By this time, I was a fairly emotional wreck.

X of course, was by me all this while. He even took my x-rays and scans afterwards to his doctor friend for a second opinion. And he kept reassuring me that nothing would happen. He knew I was scared and alone (I didn’t tell any of these to my family because what’s the point of worrying everyone when there’s no concrete diagnosis), and he made me promise to call him as soon as my results were out. The day the doctor sent me for more tests, I didn’t call as promised because the doctor said it might be cancer. I was already crying while waiting for the tests to be done and I knew I would break down the moment I heard his voice. He knew what time I was having my appointment, so he kept calling and texting but I just could not reply or answer.

But he persisted, and eventually I told him (while bawling of course). I even had to go for a lung biopsy because the scans came back inconclusive as well. Can’t remember why he wasn’t physically there at all but I think he was bogged by work.

On the day of my biopsy, I couldn’t drive as I was going to be administered LA, so I had to move my car from my usual spot so my family wouldn’t find out. A friend very kindly came to pick me up and sent me to hospital, and told me to call her so that she could send me home later. I checked myself in and waited. As they pushed me into the surgery room, an orderly said my family could enter with me to hold my hand if I was scared. I told him I came alone, and his face looked so sad. The scariest thing about the biopsy was how thick and long the needle was, and how they described the way they were going to retrieve tissue samples. And how I may potentially start spewing out blood from my mouth because of the position I was in. If I wasn’t afraid before, I was now this close to peeing myself.

The whole thing went by uneventfully (thank god), and I had to lay in bed for four hours without getting up in case I fainted from the by-effects of the LA. I even went home by myself (didn’t want to trouble my friend further). Results came back and it was thankfully not cancerous, and I was put on TB drugs immediately. And I was not to touch a single drop of alcohol because of the adverse reactions it may have.

X was very concerned. He nagged at me non-stop for keeping late hours and kept telling me what I should be eating to nourish my body. I reminded him I couldn’t cook and just like that, he called me one afternoon and ordered me to go to his house after work. When I got there, I saw this massive pot of soup that he cooked. While he also made me dinner, that pot of soup was to be my stash for home. He told me to freeze the entire lot and to reheat them (he even separated them out into small portions) each time I wanted to drink them.

I wanted to jump on him and cry. No one has ever done something like this for me before. Not even my mother. (When I suggested she cut the salt from her cooking for the sake of her diabetic daughter, she said she has to accommodate the rest of the family, and if I had issues I should buy my own dinner.) And he even told me to inform him if my stock was running low. And refused to take a single cent from me. Those few months, I was over at his place a lot because he knew I was queen of snacking and rubbish eating, so he wanted to ensure my diet was not all thrash.

Tell me. How do you not fall in love with a soul as kind as his? I never expected anyone to do anything on this scale for me, so for him to do this for my sake, you really cannot blame me for feeling the way I do. Whenever I tell this story to my friends, even those who have a negative impression of him, all agree with why I feel the way I do haha.


Why I’m not cut out for sports.

So you know I’ve been going for my boxing classes quite religiously the past few months, and even though the scales still show nary a difference, I can see that I’m not as flabby and soft like I was.

And one day, after class, I just felt this weird sensation in my right knee. You know how we crack our knuckles and get some relief? And how if a knuckle can’t be cracked you feel kinda weird? Well that’s how my knee felt initially. And that’s the best way I can describe it. So I ignored it and over time, the achy feeling turned into pain. But still, I went for classes.

It came to a point where I can no longer do proper squats, and movements like jump squats, in and outs, burpees in high numbers actually cause me pain. So after procrastinating for almost two months, I decided to see an ortho. He sent me for an x-ray and…

The lines that I drew are not really precise, but you get the general idea of where my kneecap should be. Also, the right term should be patella tilt. And according to the doctor, there’s no shifting it back. What I can do now is to go for physio to loosen my hamstrings and strengthen my quads (because these apparently help), modify my exercises, and keep a knee guard on. If it doesn’t get better in four months (my next appointment), he suggests getting an MRI done just to make sure I don’t have cartilage injury. What the fuck. It’s not as if I’m some athlete representing my country in the Olympics. It’s kinda funny yet kinda sad. All I wanted was to lose some weight and look hot naked but now I have a semi-busted knee.

Even though it looks like it’s nothing serious at the moment, it has already started to impede my everyday life. It hurts when I sit and when I stand up after, climbing stairs is just something that I dread, and even walking for long hours make my knee ache. I sometimes walk with a limp because it gets soooo painful and I don’t wear my knee guard sometimes because my dresses/skirts are not long enough to cover it. I mean… it seriously cramps my style.

Some friends have asked me to stop going for classes but I can be stubborn that way. I’ve put in so much effort just to see a little result, so there’s no way I’m giving up just yet. It does help that I inform every instructor before class, and some of them are kind enough to modify exercises for me to reduce the impact on my knees.

But looking at how things are going, I might have to replace my kneecap before I’m 40. FML.


My rose-tinted glasses.

Hello. It’s just gone past 1am here and I can’t sleep. Very likely attributed to the fact that I napped for almost two hours earlier this afternoon. Being a baby would suit me just fine. Sleep, eat, nap, repeat.

And because I’m wide awake and have nothing else to do, I was just re-reading some of my older posts (because I’m slightly amused by the nonsense I come up with sometimes). Am a little taken aback to see the amount of moping over the past few months. Like, how is anyone not getting depressive reading my posts? Not sure about you, but I think I prefer my non-broody self much better.

These days, I keep coming across those self-love reminders kinda posts on IG. Maybe someone in the universe is trying to tell me something. And it’s not like I’ve never come across them before. But I probably pooh-poohed them previously because I was in such denial. Now that I’ve been forced to wake up, everything were alarm bells that I chose to ignore.

The internet is right. If he wanted me, we both would be together by now. Just feel sad that my expectations vs reality was like heaven and hell. I think I’m coming to terms with it all. And it’s really no fun being such a mopey, energy-draining person. Give me some more time. I hope to revert to being the random, slightly mad person who will regale you with tales of battling with a cockroach, and showing off my beautiful clothes.

When you look at someone through rose-coloured glasses, all the red flags just look like flags. It’s time I took off mine.


A dream is a wish your heart makes.

We have just gone past 150 days now. Still not better. When will I ever be? As my emotional ass thinks about him maybe only about 50 times a day (“Oh I need to tell him this!”, “He’d love/hate this!”, “What would he say/do?”), I can’t help but feel even sadder.

How did we come to this? Ok this question is purely rhetorical because you all know how we did come to this. We were two complete strangers, who met, talked, decided we got along, continued talking for the next seven years and now, we’re like strangers again.

We talked about dreams. And our future. Our future lives had tons of ‘We’ and ‘Us’ in it. Being neighbours, having a hot drink on our door stoops in the cold nights. Possibly even being house mates, where he cooks and I eat. We even thought of what I would do if we owned a little cottage in France. He’d be painting of course, and tend his garden as well. He worried that I’d be bored to tears because I’m such a city girl and not the nature-dwelling sort. Well, I said I could help chop onions while he prepared dinner, or water his precious flowers. I’d think of something to do.

Looks like there won’t be a need to think anymore. Or rather, thinking is all I have left. As in the wishful kind.

I happened to re-watch 500 days of Summer on tv today. The first time I watched it, I cried, because it reminded me so much about us. Except that he’s Summer. I didn’t cry today, but still I felt that wrench that Tom felt. How he didn’t understand how someone who didn’t want to get serious, yet did all sort of couply things with, was just friends. And that someone actually got married to another person. I didn’t too. But as I watched the ending today, it did give me some hope that perhaps, I too, would find my Autumn in this life time. If I can only let go first.

I also happened to chance upon some video about Cinderella the other day. As a kid, I didn’t really get what she was singing about, but now I know.

A dream is a wish your heart makes
When you’re fast asleep
In dreams you will lose your heartaches
Whatever you wish for, you keep
Have faith in your dreams and someday
Your rainbow will come smiling through
No matter how your heart is grieving
If you keep on believing
The dream that you wish will come true
No prizes for guessing who bawled again.

Sadder than sad.

Turned on the tv today, and they happened to be screening this Taiwanese movie 比悲伤更悲伤的故事. Loosely translated, it means ‘A sorrowful story more than being sorrowful’, but I think it’s official English title is More Than Blue.

Anyway it was released the end of last year and I have never watched it. People who have, tell me it’s a tear-jerker. Even X told me he cried in the cinema and that’s like quite the feat.

So prepared I was to shed a tear or two. I won’t spoil it for you in case you’re intrigued after reading this post, but I think I cried for two reasons. The first being, like everybody said, a really sad show. And the second, how closely I relate to it. Two people who love each other but never confessing their love. Ok at least it resonates on my part. I will never know if X also has any feelings for me but some of the things that he did and say are exactly what the male lead did/say.

And the official sound track. My god. It’s so heart-wrenching.

陪伴我呼吸 決定我微笑模樣
是笑著與你分開 思念卻背對背張望
剩下倔強 剩下合照一張

Again, loosely translated (because my Chinese is not the best):

There’s a kind of sorrow/ Where your name is stuck on my past/ Accompanying me as I breathe, determining how I smile/ Unable to forget

There’s a kind of sorrow/ That’s laughing while being apart from you/ Missing you and always looking around for you/ What’s left is stubbornness, leaving behind only a picture of us

Yup. As you can tell, I still cannot get over him. There are moments when I almost cave in, but I have to force myself to think of the heartbreaking words he said to me in order to stop myself. It’s now been almost five months. How long more am I going to need?


I made the first move.

I am terribly sorry, but you guys will have to put up with my sappy and melancholy mood for as long as it takes to get out of this funk. We have just passed 120 days of zero communication and I’m so close to breaking. Let’s talk about happier times.

26 April 2012, Thursday.

It was just a few days before my final class with X and I emailed him to check on a couple of details because the canvas colour that we were supposed to prime for class kept changing. And then.. I’m not sure what came over me but something in me must have gone fuck this shit, let’s just ask him out, so ask him out I did. This was what I shamelessly emailed him. And yes, to set the record straight (not that there was much doubt to begin with), I was the one to make the first move. You go girl.

And with bated breath, I quickly hit send and awaited his reply. Of course, you can imagine my elation when he replied positively. I took it as a good sign that he too, perhaps had a slight interest in me.

28 April 2012, Saturday.

You cannot imagine how excited I was. I couldn’t wait for class to end. In the six weeks I spent with him in class, our interaction was minimal. Much later I found out that I was in his very first class so he didn’t have experience and the class size was a bit too big. It was difficult getting his attention because everyone else sought for his help. But whatever little attention I got from him, was a little exciting. Because he’d either be holding and guiding my hand, or else he’d be bent over my shoulder, in extreme proximity. Thinking back, it’s kinda sad that that was probably the closest contact we’ve ever had. Sure, we have brushed fingers multiple times over the years, but never really got past that stage too. Ok back to that day.

So after class, I helped him to pack up and we walked to this coffeeshop about 15 minutes away to have lunch. This was some mean feat on my part. I’m ok with walking, but in our sweltering weather, it’d be a big NO. But of course I did without a word of complaint (slut!). I’d walk to the ends of the world with him if I could. We ordered a few dishes too many, ate till we were stuffed, he refused to let me pay my share of the meal, and we crossed the street to Raffles Hotel for a drink. He tells me that they serve the best Teh Tarik (literally pulled tea- the person “pulls” the tea with milk from two mugs away from each other, thus creating a frothy mixture that supposedly enhances the flavour of the tea) there.

Who am I to question him? He could be feeding me poison and I’d probably still agree that it’s the best tasting shit I’ve ever had. At this point, you can tell that I was very smitten because I actually had a hot drink. Everyone who knows me knows that I always have my coffee/tea iced because of said sweltering weather. So the forbidden combination of weather + perspiration + walking + eating in a non-air conditioned place + drinking a hot beverage was actually all done by me. In a short span of a few hours. Looking back, I’m slightly ashamed at how spineless I was.

AND WHAT WALL?!?! The “wall” I supposedly built must be made of rice paper or something. What the hell it crumbled so easily. Bloody weak woman.

Obviously I can’t remember what we talked about but I’m sure it was a getting-to-know-you session. And sadly and too quickly, we had to part because he had another appointment to go to. What I do remember vividly was smiling to myself like an idiot on the bus ride home because we were texting each other non-stop. I remember telling me about the uncontrollable kids at the workshop he was conducting and just general chatter. And there I was, naively thinking that this was the start of something special. I really did believe that we had a certain fission going on. Silly.


When stars align.

03 March 2012.

I had just completed my part-time degree and after having no life for almost two years, I wasn’t used to having so much free time without having to rush out essays or projects (the human mind is so complex to understand lol). My uni course mate was the one who recommended me the short courses at LaSalle. They were not too expensive, and did not require long-term commitment. So without any reservation, I just decided to go for it. Oil painting for beginners. I was always interested in art but never really pursued it because life happened. Also, oil painting was a medium I never explored so I thought it’d be fun.

At 10am, after a short introduction to the school and being brought to class, there he was. Looking a little awkward and exotic. Only after he wrote his name on the board, was I able to confirm his ethnicity (not that it was important, but just couldn’t place a finger on what he was). The class went by rather uneventfully. I was more concerned in getting my proportions and colours right. I remembered painting a Sephora paper bag that day. By the end of the lesson, I thought that he was quite cute (as in adorable not hot kinda cute) because he had these little mannerisms which were quite endearing. And what struck me was how patient, gentle and mild-mannered he was.

It wasn’t love at first sight. Neither was it lust at first sight. You know how people have an idea of what their “ideal” man/woman would hopefully look like? Well, he was the complete opposite of mine. Of course, now that I’m older, I realise that there’s no such thing as ideal. Sure one can hope, but I think it’s more a matter of how much you’re willing to accept.

The course was supposed to be eight weeks long, and I only went for six because I took a holiday in between. Being away wasn’t necessarily bad (waste of money because there were no make up classes!), because I had to email him to ask for “homework”, and to catch up on what I’d missed. And by this time, he was slowly, but surely starting to grow on me. I was feeling both excited and scared. By this time, my wall was built so high, but yet I was afraid of letting my guard down. And because the relationship between us thus far was purely professional, I didn’t know what was going to come out of it (if anything ever did; even though we all know now that nothing has).

In case you’re a bit confused, this is the story of how X and I met. I’m writing this partially because this forms an important part of my memories and I don’t ever want to forget it, so this is something I can look back upon if my memory fades. Another reason is how I’m still missing him so bad. We’re still not talking, and the pain isn’t dissipating like how I expected it to be.

I have seven years of memories, so don’t be impatient. I’ll write about them sporadically. The next time I write, it will be about our first outing, away from classes. I still smile when I think back on it. 😢 (but with an upturned mouth)


Love of My Life.

On my way to Hong Kong last week, I watched Bohemian Rhapsody (I know, I’m just slow by about a year that’s all) and I was so riveted. I always thought I only knew a couple of songs by Queen, but upon coming back and downloading their songs on Spotify, I realised I know a vast majority of their songs. Colour me stupid.

Anyway that’s not really the point I wanted to make. The moment Rami Malek came on screen, my eyes *boing-ed* like how cartoon characters have springs on their eyes. His resemblance to X is uncanny. I reckon it’s the protruding mouth to portray Freddie Mercury. Either that or I’m missing him tremendously. By the way, it’s been more than 90 days now BUT WHO’S REALLY KEEPING TRACK.

And so throughout the movie, every time Rami/Freddie comes on (which is like every scene), I keep imagining it’s X. Maybe it was the G&T I had at 10am in such high altitudes. And when the scene where Love of My Life plays, my heart wrenched. Not sure why.

So I came home and listened to the lyrics proper. And then I found tears streaming down my face. I swear I didn’t will it to happen. Something about the melody, the arrangement, Freddie’s voice did it for me. I’ve since listened to it on repeat mode for at least 80 times. And the part where it goes “You will remember/ When this is blown over/ And everything’s all by the way/ When I grow older/ I will be there by your side/ To remind you how I still love you”, I absolutely lost it.

Perhaps because it seems like what we argued about will not blow over, or maybe because now we’ll never grow older together even though we always talked about it that got me.

I’m so sad, so very sad. I’ve tried, I really did. But he’s so hard to get over.

Back, hurry back. Please bring it back home to me. Because you don’t know what it means to me.


It’s Sab, let’s say hello. “Eh-oh!”

So I promised to give you the numbers at my next weigh-in. I mean, I’m not literally going to give you the exact digits (sorry if you’re disappointed but I’m embarrassed by the numbers lol), but… THERE WAS ABSOLUTELY NO DIFFERENCE FROM THREE MONTHS AGO.

Well paint me disappointed. I was hoping for even just 1-2kg, but nada. My friends tried to comfort me by saying that I probably gained muscle. But come on. I have sooooo much fats to lose, surely they can’t all be converted to muscle immediately. When I expressed my extreme disappointment at my doctor’s, he attributed it to the fact that I’m on a full insulin regimen, so it’s not easy to lose weight. Not sure if it’s really true or he was trying to make me feel better, but hey, he’s the intelligent one between us.

This morning, I was looking to pack some clothes for my vacation next week, and I pulled out a skirt. Oh my fucking lord…. I was no where near in zipping up the damn skirt. It was separated by the Yangtze River or something. I last wore this skirt about two years ago, but seriously how did I get so fat? Depressing times indeed. And now, I’m so afraid of putting on like 5kg during my trip because our itinerary mainly consists of places and things to eat. Plus, I will not be attending my boxing classes that week. Good luck to me.

I keep reminding myself that the change will not come overnight, but it is quite demoralising when there seems to be no progress. I think, I really need to look at adjusting my diet, but that makes me even sadder lol.

So looks like I can’t say tubby bye-bye any time soon. Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Laa-Laa, Po and Sab, Teletubbies, Teletubbies, say hello!


Time for tubby bye-bye.

On 8th of December 2018, I wrote a post about me starting to exercise because I was putting on soooo much weight. I won’t pretend that it wasn’t attributed to no fault of mine. I take full responsibility for being The Snack Queen.

And because I’ve been such a negative, toxic person, obsessing especially you-know-who, I shall inject some positivity into my feed.

I have honestly no idea what I weigh now. The last weigh-in didn’t show any difference, and my next will only take place next week or so. Will update on numbers once I get them.

I’m still diligently going for my boxing classes twice a week, unless I’m sick or away for work. I do feel stronger. Even though I still huff and puff loudly (sometimes embarrassingly so) during class, I manage to keep up with most of the drills and am no longer the weakest in each class. I know so because even though I’m panting for dear life, I still keep an eagle eye on my surroundings lol. Need to observe my “competition” to make myself feel better hahahahaha.

A couple of friends (literally only two- but I guess that’s better than none) have told me I look slimmer/toner, and that’s honestly enough to keep me going. I thrive on encouragement and praises. This middle child syndrome thingy doesn’t seem to want to leave me ever. Other than that, some of my clothes fit me better. I no longer have to hold my breath throughout the day or keep pulling at tops because they were getting snug. I even have a couple of outfits that actually feel looser now. Hallelujah.

You know what I’m most guilty of? Admiring myself in the mirror HAHAHAHAHA. I’m super guilty of flexing my arms and checking if my tummy profile looks trimmer lolol. I’m no where near having any form of abs or toned limbs or such, but I noticed less jiggly bits. And even the slightest hints of some shaping (I don’t know how to describe that). I know for best results, I should be dieting too but I don’t really want to take it to the extremes because if I slack one day, everything is going to come back in double-quick time. So for me now, as long as I’m moving my ass, it’s good enough.

Still finding it hard to manage my insulin intake especially on exercise days. I’ve had to cut back on quite a fair amount of insulin because I get hypoglycaemic episodes almost after every exercise days. Sometimes even twice a night. Just like tonight for example. I gave myself less than what I would usually give, and on top of that I took in extra carbs which I did not account for. Yet, while I was typing this halfway, I had to go take in glucose because I went low again. Not sure if this will push my HbA1c levels even lower than my target, but I definitely see the benefits of exercise. Less insulin means less weight gain.

I’m extremely thankful that my company reimburses me to exercise, because at S$30/class, I’m not sure how diligent I’d be if it had to come out of my own pocket. That’s easily like S$240/month! I know there are free options out there but jogging really bores the shit out of me. For now, I’m still enjoying these classes so I’ll stick to it and see how things pan out in future.

One day, if I achieve my goal, I may just post a before and after picture to commemorate my success. Not sure when that one day will arrive though lol. And wait. I realised I did not take a before (you know, one of those where people pose in tights and their sports bra) picture at all. Perhaps I could just use any random photo for comparison.

If you’re on a similar journey like me, I know exactly how you feel, but let’s keep up together. And one day, someday, when all those people who shunned us because we looked like the cast of Teletubbies now want to be our friend again, we can show them the door. Or your middle finger if you prefer. Here’s to us looking hotter, naked or not.