As I Sit Here...9

As I sit here, reading Sally Anne Morris’s ‘Trick or Treat’, I find myself noticing the last sentence in this paragraph; “Lucy nodded back self-consciously, aware of her puffy eyes and swollen nose. She was not a good-looking crier.” :weep:

I have come across that particular or similar line a few times in my fiction-reading history and it makes me wonder, (1) Should we be crying nicely? (2) Can we cry and maintain our immaculate face and make-up?

I mean, you cry when you’re sad, right? (Well, most of the time, I don’t count the times you cry from laughing so hard). So when you’re sad and you’re crying, won’t tears flow down your eyes? And don’t your nose and cheeks start to turn pink? Also, don’t your face kind of scrunch up from all that sorrow, anguish, pain, whatnot? When all that is happening, can you actually maintain that perfect facial expression? :struggle:

I've seen myself cry before and trust me, it's not a pretty sight, hahaha! Why on Earth would I want to cry prettily anyway? Maybe it would look good on my resume, "Can cry prettily." I should get hired pretty fast, huh? ;-)

The Ugly Girl-ling

It's hard not to feel like the ugly duckling of the bunch when you're constantly surrounded by smoking hot chicas all the time. I mean, yeah, people might tell you that "Oh, you're pretty" or "Don't be silly, you're attractive too" but these are what people say to you, who, let's face facts, are usually your friends and family. But how about what you yourself see when you go out?

Case in point. The girls that I usually hang out with are all lovely (let's focus on physical beauty for the meantime, alrite, but that's not to say they're not lovely inside too. Don't put words in my mouth :X-P: ). Anyway, whenever I'm out with them, it's hard not to notice the stares and looks they get from the opposite sex. And it's not those leery 'I-wanna-get-in-your-pants' stares, it's those 'Wow, what an attractive woman. I would like to get to know her' looks :inlove:.

And sometimes it doesn't stop at the stares, they even get guys coming up to talk to them :hypnotized:. A foreigner actually went up to one of my girl friends right on the streets and said, "You're beautiful." Yeah, yeah, you might be thinking the guy just wants to test his luck but the point is, that totally random comment from a random guy made her feel so much more beautiful and appreciated as a woman. If I actually take the time to relate every single approach my girl friends and cousins have had from guys, I would have to make an entirely new blog.:eek:

When I look at each and every one of the girls I usually go out with, I kind of understand why guys are so attracted to them. Like with my friends L and M, L is the Chinese beauty with a beautiful singing voice and a really addictive laughter while M is this tall and thin dark beauty who looks really good in skirts and has beautiful eyes. My best friend E has this cute round face which lights up whenever she smiles or laughs and has really long silky hair (she managed to turn the heads of the male employees at One Utama's Live It Up! recently).

As for my cousins, we have A who has this captivating wavy hair, lovely body figure and a face that simply attracts attention and wolf-whistles. Then there's S, the diva of the group, who is always immaculate in her dressing and her make-up, looking all hot and sizzling no matter where she goes. Let's not forget I, whom I am always thankful she's wearing a tudung (head scarf) for she'll just knock out every man in her sight with her no-mercy combo of long fairytale wavy brown hair, fair skin, petite body and very expressive face. And last but not least is Z, who is the quiet one of the bunch, but it is that quiet wisdom and silent sense of humour that emits from her adorable face that is so attractive (she has a very cute laugh too).

Okie, for the sake of argument (because I know I'll have some family members protesting), here's how I am; I am one of two types, depending on my mood, which are either the gangster jeans-and-jacket girl or the gothic nothing-but-black girl, which apparently some guys find totally scary and unapproachable. :-?

I'm not saying I'm jealous or envious of them (truthfully I'm not, my family and God knows that very well) O:-). I'm actually really proud of them, even more so with their individual attitudes and personalities. But sometimes no matter how hard your family (or you yourself) tries to make you see that you're beautiful in your own way, it's just hard to feel good about yourself when time after time, the attention is on them and hardly ever on you :wilt:, not that I'm the attention-seeker type, mind you. Just feeling kind of down after recent events.

So, to the family who tries so hard to make me believe in myself, I do once in a while but this post is written so that you can actually see why I think the way I think. And yeah, this is how I think most of the time. :-D And please don't go into the whole 'Girl, you know you are each special in your own way' lecture because I've heard it so many times, I know it by heart. :laugh: This is just my way of letting loose of some emotional stress, that's all, nothing more. :victory:

The Dealt Hand

Sometimes life deals you a hand where you have no idea which action to take. Should you fold and live to gamble another day or should you take the risk and play the round, hoping that you won't lose much or at all?

There are times when the hand you are dealt with looks good but not good enough for you to know for sure that you're going to win. You can decide to play it out and hope to chance, luck, God, whoever, whichever, that you would win the round. But if your confidence is kind of shaky, then maybe it's better for you to fold and hold out until you are dealt with a hand that you are much more comfortable with.

Then again, some people would say that it's not the dealt hand that determines the win or lose, it's the person holding the hand. Even though it's a losing hand, someone who knows how to handle it would make the most of whatever was given, or even better, someone who is clever would be able to turn the losing hand into a winning one.

So which one am I?

In my younger years, I usually play with whatever hand I was dealt with. No matter how bad or good it looked, my motto was always, "Go with the flow." I mean, there's got to be a reason why God dealt me this hand, right? Why not just play the round on the off chance that something good might come out of it. True, I didn't come out all clean and scrape-free from some of the dealt hands but hey, I survived, didn't I?

But now, as I approach my older years, I find myself cautious to the point of being suspicious. The hand that I am dealt with looks good, but then again, does it look good because I want it to look good? Is it good enough? Can I play this hand and come off unscathed if it were to betray me in the end? Or is my expertise too low to be able to handle it properly?

It is at that point of thinking that I start to back off because it is safer to not play than to play and risk my soul, my heart, my mind, my money, whatever, whichever. True, I might miss out on the winning of a lifetime or something semi-good, but perhaps I find myself too old to gamble anymore. When I was young, it didn't seem that I would lose much should I choose to gamble; the healing process was quite quick for me to get back on my feet and play again in no time at all. But with time and death knocking on my door, constantly reminding me of their presence, I find it hard to just go with the flow anymore.

C.S. Lewis was quoted, "You play the hand you're dealt. I think the game's worthwhile." Here's my thinking: I don't think I can afford to play games, in life, in relationships, anymore.