On Greece bailout plan

A labour of love

Those books and articles on the labour and delivery process are so enlightening that instead of allaying my fears, the jitters now have their tight grip firmly on my shoulders. You see, cases of a fast and smooth delivery seem far and few these days. Many hours of painful labour appears to rule the day now. And if the Greater Being up there were to decide that the pangs of childbirth weren't enough, he might along the way prescribe some complications to warrant a caesarean or a full operation.

Isn't that great news for a first-time pregger?

But not all hope is lost. By staying active does help in a smooth birth apparently. It appears that walking, yoga, swimming are beneficial for us preggers. Walking however acts up my backache and the one and only maternity yoga class in this ulu place is fully booked, whatelse! Thus, I am left with my favourite sport, swimming!

In spite of the constant fight with the sloth monster and with the fear of endless labour pain lurking at the back of my head, I finally succeeded in dragging my big ass literally off the couch to pack for the swim. Well, it's not like staying with the bestie where I can simply put on the bikini (yes, I can still manage to squeeeeze myself into the two-piece) and throw on a tee and shorts and I am ready to go.

So. Bag packed. Destination reached.

Once in the pool, I took to the water like a fish. It was a good swim albeit having to scurry to the loo every so often. The best part is I felt weightless in the water and my back didn't hurt at all. Overheating and shortness of breath evaporated into thin air.

However, being cautious to not overexert myself, I limited the workout to 45mins and called it a day thereafter.

When stepping out of the water (trying at the same time to do a Ursula Andress but failed miserably of course) to retrieve my towel, I noticed 2 young boys next to me giggling. I turned towards them just in time to hear them whispered, 'Look at her tummy!!!' Well, kids can never master the art of whispering, can they?

That's also when I realised they had no idea about my pregnant state and thought I was just fat!! How cute!

Frankly, seeing other pregger ladies hanging out at the pool in their bikini and some with kids in tow, I admit I am now less conscious about baring my pregger self in public pool. Hence, in order to avoid an arduous labour, I better take pains now to remain active and not succumb to the temptation of The Sloth.

Footnote: 27 weeks and 12kg heavier. Most clothes are too snug now. No more power-puffy ankles though itchy skin is not letting up.

No waist, no ankle and no neck soon?

The slender ankles were vanishing quickly after touching down in sizzling Singapore and the local food laden with sodium, MSG and whatnots certainly sped up the rate of disappearing act.

The bestie and the Lion stared fixedly at my power-puffy ankles and broke into laughter. I chuckled along. The feet were all inflated like a puffer fish and trust me, it's not a pretty sight but totally hilarious. Fitting into that pair of ballerina I brought along was out of question now.

And then the Lion observed: 'Each time I see you, you are always eating!!!'
Me: I can't help it. I am always hungry!!!'

She and the bestie were quite astounded by my bottomless stomach capacity.

Most articles I read advise against pregger ladies to eat for two. Instead they should only add about 300 calories more to their diet each day.

I am not sure about other pregger ladies but the hunger pangs are like my sidekick these days. They are always hovering around and no matter how much I stuff my face to chase them away, they would come back haunting me again in less than a couple of hours. Regardless if it's in the middle of the night.

And of course being back in Singapore means all hell just broke loose. There's no stopping me from launching an offensive on those resplendent food I've been craving since months.

Hence, the Lion's comment that I have now no waist, no ankle and soon no neck too? LOL!!

The weight I have piled on escaped no one of course. Some expressed silent shock on their face while others (usually those who were once pregnant) commented on how great I look.

After the uneasy first trimester where I was struggling to cope with the awful morning sickness, constant throwing up, curious cravings and aversions of food plus changes to the body, now in my 6th month, I've learned to embrace and live with these changes and the demands made on my body.

The friends' harmless teasings I take them in stride. Because being pregger means I have the privileges and the perfect excuse to incessant eating, to weight gain, to walk slower (due to backache and shortness of breath), to rest more often, to special requests like asking for a whole row of 3 seats to myself on the plane etc., all without having to feel apologetic or guilty about it.

I felt loved and blessed basking in the friends' and family's indulgence and attention and now in the man's pampering such as cutting fruits for me every evening, doing most housechores, rubbing my tummy and being more patient towards my needs.

Now all I need to do is sit back and relax and enjoy the kickings and the somersaults in my belly.

The hunger pangs return. Nasi lemak and ayam goreng await.

Chicken soup for the soul

I am bored. Of the endless colourless and uninspiring music issuing from the googlebox and the tuner everyday. The djs either have no clue of other music genres or they are just belting out tunes which they think appeal to the masses. Well, I am not the masses and I am not feeling the music. It is like a glass of plain water, flat and tasteless. It does not excite nor move me. My soul is suddenly in famine land.

Determined to not concede defeat to the gratifications of mass commercialization, below is my very own chicken soup for the day:

1. She is the new thing - The Horrors (The video is wicked!)
2. Fire - Kasabian
3. Florescent Adolescence - Arctic Monkeys
4. Crystalized - The XX
5. Where did all the love go - Kasabian
6. Someday - The Strokes
7. Teddy Picker - Arctic Monkeys
8. Maps - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
9. Soma - The Strokes
10. Butcher Blues - Kasabian
11. Whole new way - The Horrors
12. Y-Control - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
13. Song for Aberdeen - Mando Diao
14. Vlad the Impaler - Kasabian

And yes, Kasabian is definitely my favourite flavour on the menu card!

Childhood taste memory

When we were little, weekly visits to Grandma's were nothing unusual. I suspect my mum has never gotten used to staying away from her family for too long after her marriage. Being the eldest daughter, the burden of assisting my Grandma in taking care of the large brood naturally fell on her young shoulders. That explains the tightly-knit bond she has with her folks.

So each Saturday morning we would be dragged out of our warm bed for the habitual visit. In the old Kampung Geylang.

The one thing I wasn't hot about these visits was having to face my fear: the large black dog, deliriously welcoming us at the entrance by almost barking its head off.

Each time after gingerly walking past my psychological hurdle, I would gleefully await Grandma's return from the wet market with my favourite brekkie.

Yong Tau Foo!!!

Drenched in red sweet sauce and chilli sauce, Grandma would lovingly cut them up into small pieces and feed me while I sat on her lap. My little mouth would be working the food while the taste receptor cells sent data to the brain for permanent memory retention.

It is no wonder I still love Yong Tau Foo so much after all these years.

Till this day, the palate can never forget the medley of distinctive flavours of those unadorned Yong Tau Foo which Grandma bought.

Sure, other Yong Tau Foos which we have tasted so far are good but I doubt they can ever match up to the childhood taste memory.

Replicating the dish here is simply not the same. The broth with the essence wanting and the recipes for sweet sauce and chilli sauce lacking.

Bun in the oven. Raging hormones. Crazy food cravings.

Oh, I am homesick and I want my Yong Tau Foo!

Hacked by virus

Winter. Coming out and play is in order, decided the viruses.

Deep winter. The mischievous viruses knowing no more boundaries, reared their ugly green heads and wrecked havoc on their defenceless quarries.

Vulnerable victims such as the Hoonie was warned by the well-meaning friend of the looming danger at the recent get-together. Alas, lured by the dark force disguised in the black cloak of gluttony, the Hoonie turned up at the party against her better judgement.

Immediately, the virus closed in on its unsuspecting prey. The very same moment, Hoonie was shrouded in the warmth and affection from the friends.

No trace of regrets later even when the indication of the infection manifested. Except for having to postpone a dinner.

The dinner was scheduled weeks before and must be put-off again to the great disappointment of the partners in binging.

How not to when samgyeopsal gui (Korean grilled pork belly) was supposed to be the feature of the day? SIGH...

But better to be safe than to knowingly let more victims fall prey to the dark side.

P.S. And a diet of bland porridge for days has its devastating effect: the craving of a bucket of KFC.

Horse scent

The bestie secretly stashed my birthday present among the packs of Prima Taste. The gift was disguised in a Body Shop bottle. How naughty!

I was so thrilled to discover it's my favourite shampoo. But this is no ordinary shampoo okay. This is a shampoo made from horse oil.

When the bestie was at an onsen during her Japan trip, she chanced upon this hair product, fell in love and bought it despite its hefty price-tag for a shampoo.

She then very sweetly gave me some to sample. There's no looking back. It was love at first sight. Naturally, I've been raving about it ever since.

Apparently, horse oil is a popular ingredient in the Japanese folk remedy for hundred of years. Due to its strong moisturizing properties, it is also used in beauty products to treat dry hair or skin.

After a week of using the shampoo, the texture of my hair is indeed softer to touch. And there seems to have a shine to it too. Or was it the light reflecting??

But what really wooed me was its scent. I cannot put my finger on what fragrance it actually is. Could it be lavender? I really can't tell. Its sweet gentle scent soothes me each time I catch a whiff of it from my hair. I love it that the perfume lingers all day long. It clings to the clothes and to the pillow case. I am now hooked. If I can help it, I avoid using hair products or perfume to not mask the scent.

With our lives now taking a new direction, I guess a calming agent such as this to hush my fears and worries (not forgetting the joy and excitement) is in order. Obviously, the bestie shares my sentiment too.

So months ago, she quietly got my poison through her colleague who went to Japan. Ain't she thoughtful?

I can't remember....

We were about to roll out with our overstuffed bellies after a steamboat dinner when I told S just how forgettable I have recently become. Realising the mistake, I corrected myself, 'No, I mean unforgettable.

I only recalled my boo-boo much later. Oh dear! I can't even remember the word to explain my absent-mindedness. Need I say more?

The poor girl must have thought I was speaking in tongues. No wonder she was quite silent while I fumbled for the right word in my scatterbrained trance.

How embarrassing!

The Immaculate Collection

Our mini fridge doesn't come with a freezer. Due to space constraint, the basement is where the separate freezer currently resides. Thus one would see me running to the basement at any time of the day or night getting those frozen whatnots. In my frumpy, colour-faded homewear and glasses with matching unkempt hair no less.

And yes, that means I would always be literally running back to the pad as I have no wish of bumping into the neighbours in the alluring ensemble.

But I am not always lucky.

Talking about the neighbours. Either they have the most stylish loungewear to be worn at home, not unlike those you saw in Desperate Housewives, or they are diligent enough to make pretty every single day once they are out of the bed. Because I have never once seen them with a hair out of place or a bare face. No matter at which time of the day or night. Such arduous labour is indeed admirable.

But I am not alone. I found another pea in the pod:

Torn between a durian and rambutan

I recently developed a habit which I find most insufferable. Reading a book halfway and for some reasons not able to finish it. I could not fathom the rationale behind it because back in Singapore I never had that problem.

Okay, maybe once.

I attempted Peter Carey's Oscar and Lucinda but I guess I was probably too young and too ignorant, not to mention too impatient to fight my way through the long thick book that I gave up eventually. Till today, I still wonder about the plot and the characters development. I kick myself for not sticking it out till the end and be rewarded by its (as claimed by many) beautiful literacy style. Like how I did with Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie.

I might have grumbled to the friends just how long-winded Rushdie can be that it takes pages before he reaches a point and not forgetting his weighty political talk. Midnight's Children remains however an extraordinary piece of work because Rushdie is without a doubt a literary master. His wittiness and intellect and his knack for an array of puns, wordplay and rhyme is dazzling. His cleverly crafted lines left me mesmerized and yearning for more.

Naturally after such a masterpiece, it is almost impossible to find another book of the same caliber. Not that the current book, Absolute Friends by John LeCarre, is mediocre. While it is rather engaging, it lacks Rushdie's Midas touch of witty wordplay which I often devoured with relish. Sure, the comparison is unfair to LeCarre. But it's like having to choose between a durian and rambutan, the choice is very obvious. The durian, the king of fruits it is of course.

Hence, I am currently stuck. I am itching to get another Rushdie's book to quench my literary thrist. And many other books on my list as well.

But to avoid history repeating itself, I have to repress that temptation for now and bloody finish my current book first!

On second thought, having the humble rambutan once in a while is not such a bad idea at all.