On money, again

The other day I wrote a post on the money's code of silence. Since then, I couldn't stop thinking about it.

I will not aspire to something so ambitious as cracking this code because (1) I don't know how to, and (2) I don't really want to speculate, you know, for various undisclosed reasons that are primarily directed at my desire to avoid misunderstanding. There has been a few times whereby I was incapable of writing in a way that is understood in the way that I intend it to be. I would love to say that other people have an uncanny ability of taking what I said a little bit too literally during the most unfortunate moments. But it is mostly attributed to me not being bothered enough to explain myself, let alone my meanings. I feel so grown up; ten years ago, that sentence would never have crossed my mind.

Money is a fascinating medium: it can be so much more than its purchasing power alone. Money can change the dynamics of your relationships with people, money changes how people look at you, treat you, befriend you, money makes people behave differently, choose differently, live differently. People may even love you for your money, or stop loving you for your lack of money. It is a sad, harsh reality of life. I am tempted to run a social experiment whereby I declare myself a lottery winner and see how many people 'suddenly' want to catch up with me. I have not won the lottery yet, and given that I have written about this experiment here, chance of me running it is like pretty much zero.

It is not about my refusal to spend my money or even share it; it is about how others simply expect me to spend my money on them. This is something I find incredibly annoying: what makes you feel so entitled to other people's money. If I have to pay for the pleasure of your company, that is a fact that I prefer to know upfront, thankyouverymuch. Even when I had the desire to spend money on these people, their sense of entitlement usually puts me off. Seriously. Have we forgotten what it is to be courteous, or not even that, how about just being... socially acceptable?
 
Thankfully, these days I am no longer fronted by this issue on a regular basis. People I call my friends are those people who have been raised well and they would never, under any circumstance, demand that I spend my money on them. And if I do spend my money on them, because I am nice like that, they have the courtesy to accept and then return the favour. The last bit is something they don't have to do, but they always do, and this is something that is independent of how much money they make (or at least my estimates). 

Because of what I see in my friends, I like to go on living life, and observing other people's lives and coming to the conclusion that who we are (and more importantly, who we are not) has nothing to do with the size of our bank balances, savings account and investments. The older I get, the more I realise that, whether that is true or not, I am not so sure anymore.

I get judged on my monetary decisions on a very regular basis, by friends and strangers alike (case in point: buying lunch). If I were to be completely honest with you, I have also been on the other end of this judgment stick: I am guilty of judging people's spending habit. And when I say people, what I really mean is my friends, not so much some random stranger. (Although there was this one time whereby I got a compliment on the necklace I was wearing, which was like some random necklace I bought at a flea market, which was unlikely to be vintage, only to hear the same person calling me fake because in her opinion, those stones are not real turquoise. Bitch, seriously? After being affronted by something so unexpected, I cannot not judge.)

Because I don't care about what some random strangers are buying - it is their prerogative. However, if you are my friend and you have gone shopping with me, chance is that I have judged you based on what you buy. Lest you think that this is a bad thing, let me kindly remind you that I am not the sort of person who would let you make a bad choice. Seriously. If something makes your bum looks big, and I love you enough, I will tell you. I may even choose something more flattering for you. You're welcome.

Okay, yes, we can go shopping together! You can contact me via Twitter, @drbelles. You've worked out what Twitter is by now, yes? You can find a more superficial side of me in my other blog, and snippets of my life on instagram. You may even get a glimpse of the fake turquoise necklace!   

On being a child and on getting married

AKA Why parents should NOT tell their kids to get married. And other things.

Being a child is hard. Child as in, being someone's child. You have a lot more responsibilities than you ever realised. People always say that it is harder being a parent, but there is no competition here. Being a child is hard, even when you are not held into unrealistic standards of filial piety, there is always this part of you that would forever perpetually seek approval from your parents.

The irony is of course these are the very people who claim to love you unconditionally, and some even go as further as saying that they know you better than you know yourself. While perhaps it is true, since most of us are in this never-ending journey of self-discovery, it is also not true at the same time because this is the journey that we have ourselves, something that our parents may not be privy to. Unless, of course we tell them, and they listen. Most of the time, they don't, or only pretend to. Because they think it is just a phase. It may very well be a phase on the grand scheme of things, and this phase is relevant for now, and that is the point.

It is easy for me to say this because I am not a parent and so therefore I have absolutely no idea when it comes to what parents feel about their children. This is absolutely right: I don't have the slightest clue, and I am not going to pretend that I do. We are all here in this planet as someone's child, and growing up with our (biological) parents or not, we are all someone's child, and we don't get to pick who our parents are. We got given these people as people who were supposed to feed us, clothe us, provide shelter and hopefully teach us some life skills in the process. These people are not professionally-qualified to do that, they are just life-qualified to do that. How cool would that be, if there is a school to be a professional parent?

Our society is rather strange that way, and I am not the first person to say this: you need a license to drive on the road but you don't need one to become a parent; all you need is an egg fertilised by a sperm.

***

I recently got married. The months leading up to the marriage were a very interesting experience, mainly because of my parents' pressure for me to get married. What can I say, they are old school like that. Apparently, for parents, having their children get married is such a GREAT life achievement, almost bigger than having a child itself. This one event is something they take so personally that they are so ecstatic that words can't even begin to describe this particular life achievement.


I think marriage is a very strange institution and our society places too much importance on marriage, or being married. That aside, sure, seeing your children happy is quite possibly one of the most important thing in every parent's life. All is fine and well, if they are happily married.  Or at least, if they are miserably married, they are oblivious to that fact, or ignorant of their own ability to enjoy marriage in a more... happy way.

There is this implicit assumption that the act of marriage will guarantee a lifetime of happiness, you know, the happily ever after and all that stuff. Because every story has to end this way, right. I know because Disney told me so whilst I was growing up, and Hollywood tells me so whenever I see a movie. Besides, there is nothing wrong with aspiring to a happy ending, right? It makes the suffering leading up to the grand finale more bearable.

I am all in for hard work, effort, and all of that jazz to make yourself happy. I do not believe that marriage is an end goal for the individuals involved in the said marriage, in fact, it is only the beginning of an on-going commitment to work on making it work. Marriage alone does not and will not guarantee you happiness. Marriage with the right person may result in that. Thus I personally believe that instead of pressuring their children to get married, parents are better off trying to increase the chances of your children marrying the right people, perhaps by giving them time to decide on their own.

Or in short, giving them some space.

God forbid of course that there are children out there who succumb to their parents' pressure for them to get married. Yes, there are, and there are plenty - that's what arranged marriages are. If these marriage work, in my opinion, that is because the two individuals who are stuck with the arrangements have decided to make the best of it, and therefore make it work. It does not only mean that their parents have chosen well; choosing well is only the beginning.

Besides, if it is true that parents regard their children's marriage as their life achievement, then it is only fitting that they take their children's failures in marriage as their life failures too. Especially if the reason that their children get married quickly is to keep them happy. It is only fair, no? You can't just cherry-pick the good ones whilst discounting the bad.

Of course parents will never say that their children's marital failures are their fault. I am yet to come across any parent who would take responsibility in the role that they play in their children's marriages, even when if it weren't for them, their children would not have gotten married in the first place. They just conveniently forget that it is at least partially their fault that their children were such in a rush to marry, and in the process, married the wrong people. Somehow, in their own twisted minds, parents just expect their children to just know that the persons they were about to marry were the right persons. And in the after math of the disintegration of the union, the parents response would be: why did you marry him/her if you didn't think he/she was the one?

Because you rushed me into it. Do you have amnesia?

Marriage is such a personal decision. It is an event that is celebrated because it is a big decision and your ability to make that decision is worth celebrating.This decision is yours to make, you and you alone can decide for yourself whether this is really what you want.

And if you don't want it, at least you can be honest with yourself. 

This story is too good not to share, and has been sitting in draft for months, enduring edits after edits and does not resemble what it was in its first draft. You can tell me your thoughts via Twitter (@drbelles). For other lighter stuff, head over to my other blog. Or for happy snaps, visit my instagram!

In which I struggle to find a title, but we can generally call it self reflection

Something happened when you turn thirty. Or maybe I should say, when I  turn thirty.

And this thing is no ordinary thing.

The last time this happened was when I turned twenty one. I described it at the time as "I stopped caring". About a lot of things. I never knew I was quite the worrier. I swear it's not just about being an adult, or anything along those lines. In fact, the legal age here in the land of oz is eighteen. When I turned eighteen, well, it wasn't as exciting as I had hoped it to be.

Look, don't get me wrong ok. The celebration was nice, some of my friends rocked up and I am forever grateful. The rest of the people that rocked up was a combination of err.. let's just say other people. People that I may not recognise on the street today or tomorrow. Let's just leave it at that. But that's not the point. The point is that there was hardly any emotional growth on my part.

That growth started happening at twenty one. Dare I say this out loud: I only started liking myself at twenty one. I swear this has nothing to do with my losing weight and slimming down, then again, I would not be so quick in writing that achievement off. It probably has something to do with wrapping up an honours thesis and then graduating with honours. Oh those prestigious two words. I could have settled with "with distinction" but hey, what's one year of your life in exchange for "with honours". Yeap, I thought so.

I received the news of completing my PhD exactly a week before I turn twenty five. I rushed off from work to catch my PhD supervisor who kindly waited for me to rock up so that he could deliver the news in person. I love that man. That was a pretty awesome day. I mean, really, this day beats graduation day any day. In fact, graduation was ... errr... graduation. Being the second time around, Dad was not very enthusiastic. I don't blame him. I was not very enthusiastic myself. I think it was because my then-boyfriend brought me flowers.

So. When you're like twenty five and you got that one two syllables two letters word in front of your name, that is like, uhm, well, FRIKKIN AWESOME, but mostly ... scary.

Truth be told, if I were to live my life again, I would do it differently. This is not to say I regret my life and how I turn out bla bla bla, for fuck's sake, can I not choose to have different experiences? What is the whole point of second chances if you do exactly the same shit but expecting a different outcome?

I spent the first few years of being a doctor feeling like I was too young to be one. I don't doubt my skills but I was made painfully aware of my lack of experience, something that comes with being young, and really, at the time, was not something that I could change instantaneously. I mean, it is not like I could enrol in the school of experience and then graduate a year later with experience. There is no remedy to this other than well, living life yourself. And hopefully gain some experience in the process.

Having gone through all of that, I despise people who fault others for their lack of experience. It is like these people forget what it feels like being inexperienced because you are young. I have not come across anyone who is both young and experienced.

Turning thirty was the first time that I truly reflect on what my life has been all about and the person that I wanted to become. I guess it only took me almost thirty years to realise that I haven't quite asked myself this question to be able to answer it truthfully. It helps that I have someone who asked me to marry him at this stage because for the first time in my life, I started thinking that maybe, just maybe, there is something more to life.

A substantial part of turning thirty is overcoming this thing called fear. Of course when you actually turn thirty, it's not like you break free and you fly without fear. It's more like, okay, I am thirty and I am okay. I am actually more than okay. I mean, I am no Einstein, but I am not a junkie on the street either. So, I can't be that bad, right?



The thing is this: whether it's good or bad, it really is up to you.

At some point in the not too distant past, I stumbled upon a (real life) discussion about the moments that define you. In an era whereby our successes are often blown out of proportion (and thus modesty is fast to become a rare virtue), it is so easy to define someone by the things that they have achieved and how long it takes them to achieve them. To a certain degree, I believe that this is somewhat responsible for the five year goal question - what do you hope to be in five years time? More often than not, if we were to be completely honest with ourselves, the answer is this: I don't really know just yet. But if we were to say that, we are guaranteed to be deemed as clueless and unfocused, in addition to being unambitious. Sometimes, honesty is not the best policy.

I know how hard it is to answer the five year question, because there was a period of time during which I had to answer that question over and over and over again. Practice often makes perfect, or at least, almost perfect. You don't get used to being asked the question, given that, if you think about it, such question is incredibly confronting in nature. Its answer requires a lot of thoughts and once you've decided on the goals that you'd like to achieve in five years time, you actually have to put in the effort to achieve them. And the next thing you know, five years have gone by and you ask yourself this question: have I achieved what I wanted to achieve in the past five years.

At this point, it may sound like I am this over-achiever individual who has a tendency of over-analysing things. And perhaps it is true that I am, given that my friend recently told me to stop thinking about things, and instead, relax and go with the flow. It is no coincidence that every time I speak with her, I get the same advice over and over again, and it baffles me that she is not sick of giving me the same advice (motherhood may give you a higher patience quota). I am on the thinking camp, and I need to remind myself, that in addition to thinking, I need to ... live. A thinking life is ... useless unless you live it.

Recently I was asked to write a short bio on myself, which a seemingly simple exercise which required me to give a summary of what I've done in the past ten years. My resume is unconventional (imagine a (a)typical Gen-Y resume). And for the first time in my life, I realise that I quite like it. It is not just a summary of what I've achieved and where I've been, it is also very much me.

Throughout our lives, we have report cards to tell us what we've achieved and where we can improve. And then suddenly, there is hardly any report card to track our progress; but we have to start writing our own, this document called the CV, resume or whatever you want to call it. You have a lot more control than you think. If you are ever at a loss as to who you are, and what you would like to become in five years time, go back to this document and remember where you've been, and see if you like the person you've become.

Whatever it is you choose to do, just make sure that you'll like who you've become in five years time.

Ok, that was really long. You're still here? Congratulations! Any thoughts you'd like to share, please head over to Twitter. If you're in the mood for something that will make you smile, then head over to my instagram (warning: you may end up leaving hungry). Otherwise, head over to my other blog, whereby I talk about less intense stuff like fashion and shopping. Thank you for reading. I promise I will not write something so long in future! And yes, I've been told that I need to be more concise.

Gratitude

One

Every so now and then, I get an unexpected me-day and find myself with some space to write. Me-days are getting rare these days, you guys, because I suddenly find myself in situations whereby I can't quite easily see the people that I love; unplanned interactions with these people are suddenly a thing in the past. I mean, it's somewhat manageable given I am a natural planner, but I do miss those days whereby we would just hang out, you know, for no apparent reason other than, well, we can. The remedy to rare me-days is to schedule a me-day (duh!). This year, one of my non-new year resolution is to spend more time with people I actually like, so I have begun the not-so-simple task of sharing my me-days. Hey, sharing is caring, right? Right? I have never regretted this move and hope to continue in future because these people bring so much joy and laughter into my life. I am lucky, yes I know, I am grateful, every day. Not all day every day, because, I do other things too, but every day.

Two

I have been really ill for most of this year, which is incredibly inconvenient on one end, but terribly nice on the other end. I often say that my family fusses over me when I am sick and I am home, but I don't get this privilege whenever I am not home. I get love from le husb, but he is not always around, you know, he's got stuff to do. However, when he is around, he does so much for me that I am actually tearing up as I write this. Like recently, my stomach has been playing up (my digestive system is very ... weak, for lack of a better description), and consequently, I lost my appetite. So, he took me out on an impulsive date nite to this restaurant that was recommended by a foodie, got me to pick the things on the menu that I wanted to eat, ordered all of them, and the amount of good food just broke the spell: the next day, I could feel that my appetite returned. Not so much with a vengeance (getting back to running would do this trick), just enough to get me excited about food again. The said stomach issue, however, has not been resolved yet - that would take time. One step at a time, and  being excited about food is a good start. As they have always said, when you love life, you love your food. Or something like that. Or it may be something that I said, actually. Oh well. I am thankful for marrying this person who loves me more than I love me. I know this because he loves me even when I don't like myself that much.

Three

The majority of issues that I have are of first-world nature. I have been told that I should feel privileged for having them, but I don't wish to seek feeling privileged in a way that screams desperate more than grateful. Human contentment is a muscle, an emotional muscle, according to me. And just like any other muscle, it takes regular exercise for it to be strong. Without such exercise, it will become weak and useless. I am glad that I have the chance to exercise these muscles on a regular basis. These are not the best of times and often leaving me feeling empty and worthless, which are not nice feelings, even when they are felt only momentarily. I wonder if this is what depressed people feel continuously - plus helplessness for not being able to snap themselves out of it. I am lucky to have examples in my life whereby I get to witness people who passionately fight for their own happiness. These people may not be saving the world, but they are saving themselves, one step at a time. I don't know if there is anything else more powerful that you can do for yourself. I have a lot to learn from these brave souls.

Four

Amongst the five languages of love, a lot of people mistakenly identify mine as words of affirmation. Their reason is errr... I don't know; but baby, let me tell you this: words of affirmation is not my love language. I don't care how many times you tell me that you love me, because I think talk is cheap. When you show me that you love me, by cutting fruits for me, for example, then I would feel loved, by you; it doesn't matter that cutting fruits is such a trivial thing for you (in fact, it is actually better because minimal effort for you, maximal impact for me). Yet recently I unexpectedly derive a lot of joy from these so-called words of affirmation. I realise that I have a soft spot for is people who write me cards - and no, they are not the generic form of "Merry Christmas - have a great one" or "Happy birthday, you old fart", but they are the blank cards filled with words that are written from the heart, the ones that you know perfectly encapsulate what you feel at that point in time that have been immortalised on a piece of paper. I know this because I have been the recipient of such cards lately, the kind that made me tear a little bit, and smile in remembrance. Sometimes, it doesn't even have to be a card, it can be a blank piece of paper, or even electronic ones: text message, an email or my favourite lately, whatsapp. Such a simple gesture can mean so much; simple may not always be the best, but the best must be simple.

Ok, now it's your turn to think about what you've been grateful for in your life. You can tell me about it via Twitter. Or even better, you can write about the things you are grateful about in your life, and then tweet me the link - use @drbelles. I am thinking of doing gratitude writing on a more regular basis, because I think there are a lot of good stuff in my life that I don't really notice, and even God forbid, take for granted. I am ashamed to admit this, but it happens despite the best of intentions. To see my attempt to un-superficialise myself, visit my other blog, and for happy pictures, my instagram.

Stuff I wish I worked out earlier

On the Valentine's day that just passed, le husb woke me up before my alarm via a hug and too many kisses and gently encouraged me to wake up so that I could re-ignite my love for running. What a better day to return to an old love, right? As they have always said, timing is everything, and I must say, that man has a knack for timing. Plus what can be a better gesture of love? This defeats flowers, chocolates and diamonds any day. Almost as good as shoes.

My first reaction was to say "hell no" but then I remembered a rule that I invented myself for situations like this:

The best time to exercise is when you don't feel like it. 

I always impress myself when I come up with rules that (a) I frequently use and (b) I remember during the crucial moments and (c) I actually follow and find useful. I have come up with one too many rules to remember, and this one is definitely my favourite - at least for now - given its applicability. But to be completely honest, I like this rule the most because it eliminates the need for should-ing myself to exercise. I hate hate hate should-ing myself into doing things; I prefer to want to do them because it implies an active choice. I also believe that if you convince yourself that you like doing the things that are good for you, you will end up wanting to do them, and have a better life overall.

Sometimes, I think about the secrets to a good life, and I come to the conclusion that exercising regularly is one of them. But this is hardly a secret, this is public knowledge - similar to eating well is one of the secrets to a good life. Despite this awareness, I find it easy to slip into sedentary inactivity coupled with regular consumption of fried chicken. The saving grace is actually getting older - like it or not, your body will eventually start showing its age. Occasionally, it may even refuse to digest the food that you've consumed, your organs start to deteriorate, and all of these will result in inconveniently persistent pain that stops you from enjoying life - or living it. So, when they say that you have to take care of yourself, what they really mean is you have to eat well, exercise regularly, shower daily, be presentable to society - not only because you want to be socially acceptable - but more because you have maximised your chances to living longer, with minimal pain.

It occurred to me that I have been ... lazy with my life. I loathe typing that sentence because I obviously did not want to admit that. I think of ways to better my life, like fitting in exercise into my schedule and being more deliberate of the things that I let into my stomach, and at times despite my best intentions, I don't always end up where I visioned myself to be because my lack of action is attributed to my laziness. If there is a report card in life, then I probably would get an F for eating too much fried food - and getting an F is like totally despicable because I grew up with Asian parents. Fact is that for most of my life, I have been getting an F in this department, irrespective of my body shape at the time. The reason that I am talking about this now is because for once, I actually want to score an A (and maybe A+ eventually).

I rely somewhat rather extensively on le husb for food - and this is because in addition to buying me food, he is also the designated cook in our household. What can I say, I married well. I got really lucky because he can cook, and he doesn't mind cooking most of the time. (When he does mind, we resort to take-outs.) Because I am married to a man who cooks well and cooks often, I have become even lazier in feeding myself. Instead of going to the kitchen and find something to eat, my default position has been: babe, I am hungry. These four words worked like a charm earlier in our relationship; used too often, however, signals a desperate, needy, useless and hungry person that can, and eventually will, drive the other person mad. I would rather not come to this point. In a relationship, I was told to choose my battles carefully; this is definitely one of them.

It is not like I can't cook, it is more like I haven't learned how to cook properly - and even then I am not sure what the definition of "cooking properly" is. I am no magician in the kitchen, and whenever I tackle a cooking project, I always need a plan B - the take-out option. That, plus a quick way of disposing the cooking disaster, and cleaning up the resultant mess, which is something I don't even pretend to like. There we go, I said it: I don't like cleaning, I haven't found anyone who genuinely likes it. I have found a lot of people who like being in a clean environment, myself included, which is why we clean.

I know that like myself more when I am healthy. I won't promise that I will learn to cook, that sounds too ambitious for someone who doesn't even like chopping vegetables and whose eyes water every time she peels an onion. I won't even attempt to like cooking, or find it relaxing, or anything along those lines. I will just cook, and hopefully le husb will want to (and perhaps even look forward to) eat the end result, and not feel obligated to do so.

Oh, and a new rule:

The best time to cook is when you don't feel like it.  

You are much welcome to tell me your thoughts, via Twitter. As I have always said, conversations with random strangers are best conducted via this platform.You will need to @drbelles me, that's how we connect. You can also follow me if you want. If you don't know what Twitter is, go find out. Oh, signing up to Twitter is free! Occasionally, you can drool over what I cook on instagram, which is also where I pretend that I have a dog. If you can't get enough of my random ramblings, you can visit my other blog, whereby I try to live by my other life-rule: the best time to dress up is when you don't feel like it.  

A story about money

I am weird. I have been told that so many times by so many different people, and some of these people I see on a regular basis, and some of them are my friends. I have grown accustomed to being called weird although to be completely honest, at times I don't exactly know what I am being accused of being weird for.

Recently, I have been ill quite a lot, so much so that I was actually sick of being sick all the time. I have been on antibiotics over antibiotics which caused other issues that I am still dealing with. In my attempt to be healthier, at the encouragement of a friend at the office, I began packing my lunch to work. Actually, that's not true. What she said was actually this:

I am surprised that you buy your lunch everyday. You look like someone who is good with money.

And that's how I discovered that apparently, being good with money and buying lunches are two mutually exclusive things. It is rather hypocritical for you to be good with money and buy your lunch on a daily basis. People who are good with money pack their lunches, okay. That's how you stretch the value of your money, that's how you save money, that's how you become good with money.

I have always wondered why there are more so-called finance bloggers who are blogging about their attempts to get out of debt rather than the ones who share stories about successfully managing their finances. I haven't crunched some numbers yet, however, based on my extremely limited experience with Google on this particular issue, I must say that getting out of debt is attractive. Almost as attractive as the instant gratification of acquiring things on credit.

The attraction of stories of how to get out of debt is similar to that of weight loss. Weight loss is so attractive that it is a multimillion (billion?) dollars industry. Losing weight is almost as attractive as the accumulation of fat and weight - the endless instant gratification of eating junk food - the high fat, high sodium and high sugar, one after each other to mask the lows that they inevitably bring.

And for these watch-me-get-out-debt-bloggers, being good with money equals to saving at every opportunity you can, which really means, not buying coffee, and not buying lunches, not going out for food because you know, preparing your own food is more cost effective. And if you are trying to lose weight, how about you eat less food, because when you buy less food, you can use the money to pay your debt faster. 

My question is this: where are the people who are on the opposite spectrum. Why isn't there more people who openly share their struggles with saving their money, the kind of investment decisions they have to make, the maintenance work that they have to do to stay on top of things, you know, the kind of things that they have to do to be financially successful: how to be successful with money. Is it like some kind of high-mile club whereby those who've cracked the code have been sworn to a code of silence, and the rest of us mere mortals can only guestimate what it takes to be part of the said club.

Or perhaps because when you share stories of financial success, you are viewed as bragging. Plus in general, people don't really want to tell other people how much money they actually own or owe. The code of silence is alive and well - we just don't talk about money altogether.

So, the said friend suggested that (to be more in line with her perception that I am good with money) I pack my lunch to work. And I said, sure, I can do that, just baby steps okay, like we start with one day a week, then the week after that, two days a week, the week after, three, you get the idea. We are now at the end of week one and the number of times I bring my lunch to work is ... five. There are only five working days last week. What can I say, I like to outdo myself like that.

Oh, and set goals that are easy to attain. It makes you feel good and so... accomplished.

If you want to leave comments about this post, you can do so via Twitter, and you need to @drbelles me. You can follow me if you want, you just need to promise to put up with my weird-ness. A display of my almost daily weird-ness is documented on my instagram (no, not really, just a display of the food I eat and other consumeristic endeavours that I pursue). I write about other stuff in my other blog, which you can read if you can't have enough of me. 

How to lose weight permanently

This post is dedicated to those who want to lose weight permanently. Of course you need to be fat on the bigger side at present to be in a position to need to lose weight. Whether you want to be healthier or you want to look good - superficial or non-superficial reasons, I don't care.

I grew up fat, I was a fat child person. My dad and the mirror told me so. This is not about my Dad and what he said/says. He is my Dad, and he is forever my love, and he is not perfect, so please leave him (and his parenting techniques) out of this.

Oh, and if you are fat because of some other medical condition, then this post is definitely not for you.

So. How to lose weight.

(1) Eat lots of vegetables. Make sure that 70% of what you eat comprises vegetables of various colours. The rest is preferably protein and some fat. There is no dessert in this equation - and for a good reason: dessert is meant to be for special occasions, special as in once in a month kind of special, like celebrating a birthday kind of special - aka once a year kind of special.

If you are hungry, eat vegetables and some protein. You can eat fast, slow, whatever speed you want, I don't care. I try to eat slow because apparently that's better for me, but I think I eat fast, because I eat a lot. Like as in I am the last person in the table to finish eating, for almost every single meal I eat. I either eat a lot of food or my companions don't eat that much. Anyway.

Most of the time, you are not hungry when you eat dessert. Admit it! You just want to taste something sweet, something light, bla bla bla. Ok, I get it, sugar cravings, or whatever you want to call it. The rule is this: if you want to lose weight, you gotta make sacrifices. You either sacrifice your meal (vege and protein) or you sacrifice dessert. You need the nutrients in the meal more than you need the sugar hit of the dessert, so choose carefully. It's your choice, really.

(2) Move more than a dead person. The main reasons that the majority of people are fat are poor diet and sedentary lifestyle. I know I was fat because I did not know how to feed myself (le husb told me this - not the fat bit, but the other bit) and  I had quite an aversion to exercise. I have since started to exercise regularly and I like myself a lot more as a result of that. I guess this feeling can be called ... err... healthy feeling. Like you know when you feel 'bleagh' after you binge on some junk food, well, this feeling is the opposite of that, except, better.

As you all know, this is not just about exercising, it is about moving in general - like as in, you get up to get your own drink, or you walk instead of driving, etc. This is the best excuse to invest in really good shoes. Good shoes are necessities in life. You need at least a pair of shoes that are comfortable, stylish and make you feel like you can conquer the world, one step at a time.

You don't have to buy a pedometer, although you can if you want to. Some people are motivated by numbers, and if you are one of these people, then by all means, buy the pedometer and you can be motivated by the number that you see or don't see. I have never owned a pedometer, but had the pleasure of buying some for my dad and my uncle, who were (still are?) using them once upon a time. They are not fat, they are just number-curious people.

(3) Drink water - and just water. No soft drinks. No alcohol. Yes, no alcohol. If you are thirsty, drink water. What? You don't like the taste of water? Then you shall suffer in your thirst. Can't give up soft drinks and alcohol? That's fine - there is a very good chance that your weight loss journey is going to be unnecessarily longer and harder. Your choice.

I get that soft drinks and alcoholic beverages can be addictive, if not were designed to be addictive (these corporations like to make money, okay). I get that we are human and we succumb to temptation. The point is to not make a habit out of it. Or in other words, cultivate the good habit of drinking water.

(4) Say no to things you don't like. This doesn't just pertain to food or drinks, but to everything in your life. If there is something you don't like in your home, either toss or donate it (or give it to someone). If you don't like your hairstyle, change it. If you don't like your clothes, then change them. If you don't like where you live, then make plans to move to an area you actually like. If you don't like your financial position, then start budgeting. If you don't like your habits, then change them - replace the ones you don't like with the ones you like.

Why? Because the more you like your life, your surroundings, your look, etc, the better you feel about yourself. When you feel better about yourself, it is easier to give up dessert and eat vege and protein. It is also easier to exercise and move more. Really, trust me, it is easier to walk in a house that's not cluttered rather than a house that's cluttered to the roof. I know this because my imagination tells me so.

Once you've lost the weight you want to lose, then it is a matter of maintaining your weight. Maintaining your weight takes effort, okay. It pretty much means you gotta eat vegetables and protein and give up dessert most of the time, move more than a dead person everyday, and say no to the things you don't like everyday. But you can drink soft drinks and alcoholic beverages occasionally.

Good luck! 

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We gotta connect through twitter. Largely because I don't want to deal with spams in my comments, and because I am personally of view that in the world of social media, conversations (with strangers) are best conducted via twitter. If you want to look at some pictures, you can view my instagram and my other blog, where I talk about other things, with pictures. If you like full on writing, and only that, then just stay on this blog. If you want me to look at your blog, you can send me a twit - @drbelles, okay. If you don't have twitter, err... get one! It's free!