Because I make it work.

As repeatedly publicized, I have this on-going royal rumble with weight. While that may possibly be my lifelong cancer, I don't let it mess with this lifestyle I'm consistently trying to make normal. Let's just say, I'm not your ordinary fat girl. There are numerous things I can do, that most biggies can't (indian-sitting, hand-standing, and finger-licking, to name a few). But most notably, I've always been commended for taking risks, clothing-wise, and how I tweak each get-up to suite a 200-pounder.

When I was in high school, I had always been the fat girl who can't dress. Elephant pants + baggy shirts = the black dude in me. My sexual orientation was even questioned a couple of times. Like, did I really look like a boy? I had braids!! Oh shoot. Basketball players have braids. Snoop doggy dog has braids. So... yeah, fuck, I guess I really did look like a butch. Moreover, affirming the popular myth, my kind of fashion, or lack thereof, back then was unfortunately clueless. I was too preoccupied with pool that I didn't even notice I was slowly looking like my Idol. Only with teeth.

Good thing, I got kicked out. Not that it was an event in my life I can be thankful for (although being dubbed as the "rebel" was kinda cool, ohhh, stop, shussh!!!) but it paved way for me to stick out of that exhausting bubble. I discovered that being fat isn't reason enough to stagnate my take on things, and unmodify my life. I started to LOVE shopping, picking clothes that aren't cousins of trash bags, and make total abuse of under-utilized Fat Fashion stores. But here's the thing. Despite already dressing up like a woman, my new sense of style anyhow flummoxed people who saw me everyday, especially my mom, who simply doesn't get it, and my brother, who thinks I look like a fortune teller each time I dress up.

NOTE: Picture on your left was captured while shopping, inside my fitting room. I know, who takes a picture of herself while dressing up, right? But I just thought I'd supply you with evidence. Half-naked snapshots reserved for MySpace. *wink, wink*

Silly prints, huge dangling earrings, outstretched necklaces, and long crinkle skirts make up my usually unfathomable fashion. Years of sporting the style, nobody has come up to me and complimented how I looked. Until that particular Thursday in school. It's college, nobody would care! Brittany, who has weird but cool taste in clothes herself (*mean girl syndrome* honestly, more on the weird side, but she's blonde and pretty anyway, won't hurt her one bit), proves that overused statement on a daily basis. So I braved the anticipated naysayers and ditched the common jock outfit (sweatshirt + jeans + chucks), and geared up my inner boho.

And let me tell you, I've never been SO flattered in my life.

By my professors, by classmates I don't even talk to, and even by this random woman I shared the same elevator ride with. It was such an Ugly Duckling moment. But whatever, it's been a loooooooooooong time since somebody, unrelated to me, said I looked pretty. *rosy cheeks surge* Trust me, ladies. There's nothing like that feeling of comfotably being yourself, in the superficial public, and actually be showered by overwhelming compliments.

I don't really talk fashion here, but since I'm at it, I might as well share a couple of reminders to all my ladies (and no, I'm not talking to you, sexy bitch!).

• Clothes for plus-sized women cost a lot. Wherever you go, even if you're from Bhutan, clothes for fat people, in general, are excessively expensive. So, as much as possible, stay away from the malls. They have ridiculously beautiful (and branded, but who gives a fuck about brands) stuff in there, but awfully mind-boggling price tags. You may want to try local boutiques, they offer reasonably, and you can even get a pretty good discount if you fill out a couple of carts.

• If you're the extra-extra (or even another extra) large type of biggie, don't be shy and look for that elusive 5x mark. America's obesity epidemic is severely disseminated not to have additional Xs in their dress sizes.

• Gather as much clothes as you can when you fit. It won't hurt trying all at once, while it will going back and forth. Although that's exercise, I won't encourage you to do that. Leave the sweating off the clothes. Please.

• Don't buy clothes and shoes from the internet. Period.

• Be confident. I'm not sure why I'm saying this, because I never intend to be your counselor in any way to begin with, but let me be nice for just one second... You can hear this from a lot of [mature] guys, and trust me when I say that they actually mean it (for once in their fuckin' lives, they're saying something true). Feeling like you're pretty and sexy and knowing that you're pretty AND sexy (yeah, I said it) are two different things. Go figure.

• And most importantly, assure yourself that you're beautiful. Don't dress up, wear make-up, bathe in cologne, just because you want to please your husband, boyfriend, teacher (well, some do that), etc. But do it for yourself. I won't say the inside and out thing, 'coz that's just worn, but every person's made to be beautiful. It's all up to you now to rejuvenate that inert pizazz. *snaps*

Target Shopper Saga

Is it wrong to feel irate towards perhaps unintentional naivete? Well, I was talking to a friend an hour ago and she was telling me how she just learned that a black nail polish exists on earth. Seriously? I was guilelessly shocked. Like, have you been to the moon?? I admit I wasn't too kikay before, but I sure knew about that. But of course, as a semi-forbearing friend, I had to be artificially benevolent, hence my stubtle "really, how come?" response. Totally reminds me of one tennis player who had the exact same predicament. And guess what? They just knew about it because Chanel just recently had it. And they get it for what, $18/bottle? Ha! As if that's really worth some muscles shaping a surprised face. That's equivalent to 18 bottles at the dollar store! But seriously, is that just stupid or what? You can't even tell 'em apart so what gives. It is just because it's Chanel, that you convince yourself that you just learned about it lately? Don't let me mislead you though, I absolutely have no reason to be this irritated. But I just couldn't help but cringe over the obvious absurdity. $18?!!?! *scoffs*

Since I'm at it... I've decided to get rid of this Louis Vuitton suitcase my mother bought me a couple of years ago. I only used it once, and although it looks really good and the quality's even better, it's still got "LV" written all over it which gradually morphed into a K-Fed sighting for me--extremely annoying. I'm not even sure if it's 100% authentic, well not that I'd care anyway. Plus, I saw those kids from Laguna Beach all having the exact same thing. That alone could end my 26-hour-travel relationship with it. Haha, seriously. It's already too much. As to a song, overplayed. You know what I mean.

This is actually one of the many subjects I often battle with my mom over. But the contrast is pretty obvious, she has the job and I don't. So I'd often prefer buying a lot in a small amount of money, than just get a couple of things that would eternally inject me with guilt, 'cause she always pays. Not that I loathe branded goods, I in fact know that their qualities are the best, hence the ridiculous price tags. But I'm just not the kind who'd want to spend fortunes only for say, a pair of Cole Haans, when I can get the same quality at the mall for a more advantageous purchase. For someone who doesn't earn a lot, or doesn't earn anything at all, luxuriating in that magnitude is the last thing in my to-do list. But eventhough I apprehend practicalness that way, I know I should also recognize the fact that the better quality of item I get, the longer it stays with me. So I'm not really completely refraining myself from them branded stuff, just that the item has to be reasonable. Reasonable as in generally affordable.


And the practice starts... My first ever pair of chuck taylors.
My brother, who has the same perception as my mom's, has been convincing me forever to buy myself chucks instead of splurging in cheap shoes and boho slippers I get at Payless Shoestores or Target all for not more than 50 buckaroos. And since I'm on this self-made therapy to become a girly-girl, I always shrugged off his brainwashing, until an irresistable sale at Kohl's this past weekend. I was actually there to buy Bongo flats but my being practical hit me between two eyes. I'll be doing a lot of walking this week, so I decided to finally agree with him, and get a pair of my own. I'm not really a trend follower but these fit me comfortably and it doesn't look bad at all. I know, I have giant feet ala McDo. Wouldn't really translate very well if I were testosteroned, right?. Hahaha, but I digress. :)) At least I finally got something that's relatively cheap and that will last.

So anyway. I have tennis to watch right now (it's live from Shanghai, what the hell, haha), then I'll make breakfast, manually heat a bucket of water since this house's waterheater is totally unreliable at the moment, take a suicidal shower, get dressed, do my hair, beautify my face, last-minute packing, watch last night's Studio 60, make lunch/merienda/dinner, eat, brush teeth, call a cab, 15-minute travel to airport, wait for boarding, and leave for Los Angeles. I'll be there 10pm PT, and it sucks because I'll be missing a presumably good Mavericks game. Nevertheless, I ask you to please pray for my safety, as I'll do with yours. *winks*