You all know that this blog, if anything, is hardly evar emo. Bitchy, candid, feisty, bimbotic, vain, frank; yes. Emo? Big NO.
And yet, I feel the need to get all emo now. And yet, I find it difficult to let the emo-ness flow as I am typing. I have read blogs where it flows like a river, on and on but I am somewhat dumbstruck.
I don’t drink/ smoke/ smolder/ sulk when I get into this kind of mood. Instead, I feel a strange comfort in feeling a sense of self loathing. I stare into space.
How bloody fat I am. A bloody size 12 in a sea of size 8 and below.
How undeserving I am. It was 3am when I still couldn’t sleep and I wanted to eat something. Big refused to let me cook and got up to make me a hot bowl of noodles. This man has to get up at freaking 7am in the morning to go to the office. I freaking hate myself.
The freaking irony in that I am the person obstructing myself from quitting. The paralyzing fear. The little voice whispering, you know, you are not a hotshot Ivy League grad, anyone with your kind of qualifications is earning half your salary, what are your kids going to live on, can you live without your shopping sprees, you materialistic bitch, how are you going to pay for the children’s hobbies and needs, and no you are not thinking of leeching off Big are you, can’t even survive in your current job, your health is going to the dogs, that other higher paying job is going to break your back, don’t even think of getting a pay cut and a more relaxing job, you lousy fat piece of lard.
I read this from Work from Within:
THE COFFEE OR THE CUP
A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor. Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life.
Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups - porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite - telling them to help themselves to the coffee.
When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said: ‘If you noticed, all the nice looking
expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress.
Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups…
And then you began eyeing each other’s cups.
Now consider this: Life is the coffee; the jobs, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and the type of cup we have does not define, nor change the quality of life we live. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee provided us.’
It’s all very well, but I beg to differ. Money and position in society does affect your quality of life. Try living in Singapore (or anywhere else for that matter) without or just enough money. I know I would be miserable because I don’t like the feeling of not giving my children the best I can. I know if I am not working my ass off, I will not be able to feed/ cloth/ provide a roof for my children, much less talk about buying them nice jewellery to keep till they have their own kids to pass on to, giving them enrichment classes, take them out for a good time, have nice food, go on holidays etc. Forget about subsidies that are barely substantial that are handouts from the government; I have the ability to earn my own keeps and I don’t need such condescension. Forget about living off Big, because honestly, I already feel very bad as it is. Who is helping out with all the chores, when he never had to do anything at home? The same tired argument that I throw in his face, that they are not his kids, is always squashed with a dozen reasons that he deems very valid but I have somehow never been able to accept. The overwhelming one factor being that it is not fair to him.
It is already bad enough that he might be mocked that he is marrying a divorcee with two kids. His family in Malaysia is quite big and some of them are active in politics. There are influential people in his family (think Datuk, politician, business people etc). The worst is, he is the only male child and grandson of the maternal branch.
I just can’t write anymore. I feel rotten inside and my f87king back hurts again. Strangely, even in moments like this, I don’t feel suicidal. Which may not be such a bad thing, as with the insurance payouts, my kids could be millionaires.
And Paddy, you’re a great host! Thanks for having Big and me as guests! 
