Monday, December 6
Act-cute shit
But in reality, I was just jealous. Plain jealousy, man. Sure, the plot was weak but the stunts were not bad (for a Chinese show). By right, I would have sat thru' it like I sat thru several flops of movies; call me stupidly weird, but I was not one to walk away from a show. I felt uneasy not knowing how the show progressed and ended once I started watching it.
But jealousy was a force stronger than my fetish. Especially when Monet had doubled up the no. of times he hinted/asked me to slim down coz I was "very fleshy", a state which "I'd been so ever since I returned from the US."
I was beginning to feel real bad about being a very snug size 4 (instead of a snug size 2). I'd been eating indiscriminately, whatever food there was on the table. I didn't exercise (discount that few rounds at the stadium), and my Bridget Jones granny-sized panties were, as a result, miraculously beginning to turn into hipsters coz of the increased waistline.
Adding to the guilt, several of my friends who were gym enthusiasts, were now slim and nubile like the ballerinas in The Nutcracker, if they had already not been so before they started their gym routine.
Only I, as clumsy and grumpy as The Old Woman Who Lived in A Boot, and petty like shit. Now I totally missed my chance at seeing hotshot Edison Chen and Donnie Yen in action (in the movie) too.
I was watching "εζΊε" (The Twins Effect) with Monet. It had all the pretty faces and special stunt effects attempting to cover up an extremely flaky plot. Twenty minutes into the show, I declared my disgust and walked away from the show, because the act-cute girls were proving to be too much for me to digest.
But in reality, I was just jealous. Plain jealousy, man. Sure, the plot was weak but the stunts were not bad (for a Chinese show). By right, I would have sat thru' it like I sat thru several flops of movies; call me stupidly weird, but I was not one to walk away from a show. I felt uneasy not knowing how the show progressed and ended once I started watching it.
But jealousy was a force stronger than my fetish. Especially when Monet had doubled up the no. of times he hinted/asked me to slim down coz I was "very fleshy", a state which "I'd been so ever since I returned from the US."
I was beginning to feel real bad about being a very snug size 4 (instead of a snug size 2). I'd been eating indiscriminately, whatever food there was on the table. I didn't exercise (discount that few rounds at the stadium), and my Bridget Jones granny-sized panties were, as a result, miraculously beginning to turn into hipsters coz of the increased waistline.
Adding to the guilt, several of my friends who were gym enthusiasts, were now slim and nubile like the ballerinas in The Nutcracker, if they had already not been so before they started their gym routine.
Only I, as clumsy and grumpy as The Old Woman Who Lived in A Boot, and petty like shit. Now I totally missed my chance at seeing hotshot Edison Chen and Donnie Yen in action (in the movie) too.
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