The engagement ring

Right. It’s time for the ring to make an appearance.

Yes, THE RING. The one ring to rule them all!

No, not really.

I’m talking about the engagement ring, of course, the one that signifies that I’m silly for wanting to wear thousands of dollars on one insignificant little finger, when I could instead have bought the latest iPad and iPad Mini and iPhone and iMac all at once with that money OMG *cry*.

Why are women so stupid.

(Please don’t scold me. I am only human!)

((Actually, I did see a £16 ring once at Argos which I liked very much and told Piers I wanted as my engagement ring and he looked at me like I was nuts. Really.))

But, anyway, stupid we are. Although, admittedly, there are many smart women who don’t succumb to the evil Gollum syndrome — “We must have the precioussss!” — and I heartily applaud them for it.

Unfortunately, I am not one of those women. I could have insisted on getting the £16 ring but I didn’t! The truth is that I am always torn between my girly and geeky sides, a bit like Jekyll and Hyde, except none of my sides are evil, only stupid.

So, the short story is that Piers proposed to me using a fake diamond ring because he knew that fusspot me would never like whatever he picked, because my aesthetic sense is too weird for him to fathom. Then we would go shopping for the real ring together afterwards.

Many shopping trips later, I finally decided on this one.


Engagement ring


I actually preferred another more unique looking one (which was also cheaper because it didn’t require a bigass diamond to sit in the middle like most engagement rings do) but everyone agreed that this one looked nicer on my finger.

Okay, I was at least a little bit smart. I didn’t go overboard and make him spend $10,000 on the ring because, deep in my heart, I kind of would like him to still have money left over to buy me all the latest iGadgets (my precioussss…), since Christmas is coming! :D

By the way, it is freaking hard to take a nice photo of a diamond ring in your bedroom with a compact camera.

Fortunately, the diamond shop people had gifted me a professional photo!

I bought my ring from Vivo Diamonds in Singapore, where they custom make every purchase and use only high quality diamonds, so they say. They gave me a free lecture on the 4 Cs but, honestly, I don’t think I can tell the difference.

They promise that this photo is of my actual ring and not a generic photo of their ring samples. So, here is a photo of the photo. (Sorry, lazy to scan, so it’s a bit crooked.)


Engagement ring professionally taken photo


I also bought my wedding ring from them, after being quite pleased with their good service and nice designs. But I can’t show that one until after the wedding ceremony, which will be in June next year! It’s really unique looking (for a wedding ring) so I’m very excited and can’t wait till I can actually wear it!

3 old photos and 3 new photos

I was looking through my old photos cos I’m going to chop off a lot of hair on Thursday and need to check what hairstyles I look okay or horrible in.

While flipping through my folders, I found some holiday photos of me and Nanny Wen wearing each other’s clothes. It was hilarious. We generally didn’t like each other’s wardrobes, so it was quite a challenge.

It was an impromptu bit of fun. We were in Genting Highlands for a few days and, on our second day there, we decided to swap clothes for the day! This was in March 2007.




The main thing I didn’t like about this outfit was the top because it was stretchy skintight, had a hole at the chest (see photo below) and was turtleneck.

Turtlenecks make my face look fat and short, stretchy skintights make me look slutty, and holes at chest advertise my non-existent cleavage.

The skirt was nice, but I wasn’t into big belts, although I suppose that suited the outfit. Boots were my own cos I couldn’t fit into Nanny Wen’s shoes.


Nanny Wen


Nanny Wen was soooo uncomfortable in my outfit, haha. It was very anime-costumy and she just doesn’t wear stuff like that. I thought she looked cute enough to eat, though.

Then again, she always does!


Two uncomfortable people


Anyway, that was a stupid hairstyle I had, but bangs give me a lot of freedom and peace. With long fringes, I’m always (95% of the time) annoyed by rebellious hair getting into my face. Even if I stuff all my hair behind my ears, I have strands of hair in the front that are like three inches long and never ever grow longer, so they’re always hovering about, tickling my forehead and generally looking ugly.

Stupid hateful hair.

Anyway, fast forward.

Piers just sent me a couple of photos of us taken at his company dinner. Took them so long to release the official photos (more than three weeks)!








In other news, I’m back in Singapore and trying to not be jetlagged but it’s a bit hard when you’re staying up all night chatting with your partner because of time zone differences.

I need to cut my hair very badly. Half of it is severely damaged due to perming and colouring and dry weather in England. Cutting off the damaged parts will mean my hair will be shoulder length at best. Just nice for Singapore weather, I guess.

Anyway, looking at my photos didn’t help. I think I look horrible in all my hairstyles. My hair can’t be styled in the ways that I like because it’s stupid and stubborn, so I’m sad.

Okay enough about my hair.

We’ll see on Thursday!

Do not judge a cake by its icing

I’m taking a short break from Mallorca posts because I’ve been kinda busy shopping for my outfit for Piers’ annual company dinner.

It’s a black-tie event and I haven’t got anything with me in England, so I have to buy everything: Dress, shoes, bag, shawl, jewellery, maybe gloves.

I kind of left it too late. There’s nothing decent in the shops so I had to go online. The problem is, all the dresses I like that suit me are made to measure and will take a month to be delivered. Even the shoes I have my eye on are made to measure.

But the dinner is next week!

It’s very hard for me to find dresses because I don’t look good in bustiers, V-shape necks and halters, which basically describe the style of most evening gowns.

So I had to finally settle for this cheap ready-to-go dress. Ordered it two days ago and it arrived today, but it’s 10 inches too long (even though it’s XS / UK size 6) so I’ll have take it to the tailor.


Evening dress


Dress: USD84
Shipping: USD29
Tailoring: GBP30 (estimated)
Total: SGD200

Turned out not so cheap after all, for the quality. The stitching around the beads looks a bit poorly done.

But what is done is done and I have to wear it.

After shopping, there’s still the business of retouching my hair, threading my face and doing my nails.

Yep, very busy.

Actually, I wanted to talk about a cake today but got sidetracked, sorry.

The supermarkets in England carry very pretty cakes that look inedible because they look more like decorative items than food.

Piers assured me time and time again that they taste awful.

But I can’t help being drawn to them, especially this one.


Pretty cake
Do not trust a cake that you can stand upright.


I made Piers buy it because neither of us had a birthday cake this year so we needed to make up for it.

It’s so pretty it makes you happy, doesn’t it?


Pretty cake
It’s so pretty it shouldn’t be edible.


Pretty, pretty cake
Cut along the dotted lines.


Ooh pretty cake
Please unwrap me. Cos no one else would.


We should have just left it alone as a decorative item.

It tastes awful.

The description says:

“A Madeira sponge cake layered with plum and raspberry jam and vanilla flavour frosting covered with soft icing and decorated with a sugar plaque and candy flower.”

This is how I would describe it:

“A dry and hard cake with cough-syrup-flavoured jam filling, wrapped in a fatally thick layer of icing so sweet you could go into anaphylactic shock if you tried to eat it.”


Do not judge a cake by it’s icing. And ribbons. And harmless-looking teddy bears.


Well, I have learnt my lesson now.

Next time, I will get Piers to buy the Hello Kitty one instead of the Forever Friends one.

Back-to-school outfit

Since I’m going to be a student soon, I have an excuse to change my wardrobe again!





Okay, not really. This probably won’t be the most appropriate outfit to attend the course I’m doing (Montessori education). In any case, I already had the outfit way before I decided to go for the course.

It’s just that I’ve liked high school uniform fashion for a long time already and never seem to be able to outgrow that disposition.

I think it’s because Singapore uniforms are so ugly that I feel like I grew up deprived of style. And there’s 12 years of deprivation to make up for.

Of course, I realise that school kids are not actually supposed to care about style and beauty, but I think people can’t help being drawn to aesthetics. People need beauty in their lives. We get to have pretty school bags and stationery and water bottles, so why can’t we have pretty uniforms?

Well, I’m not trying to change the system or anything. Just explaining why I like wearing school uniform inspired styles.




I also happen to really love school. I wish I were school-age again.

I mean (if you overlook the occasional essay deadline, which is evil, times two if it requires you to read an infinite number of books on pretentious philosophical and literary movements that actually don’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things), being a student is immeasurably better than being a working adult.

If you’re currently a school-age student, you have to trust me on that.

One day, when you have a job, no matter how much you love your job and your boss, you will eventually get chewed out for something you didn’t do and you can’t defend yourself for whatever reason and you can’t quit because then you can’t pay your bills, you’ll start to appreciate school.

Or you might get backstabbing colleagues who will keep trying to get you into trouble or steal your credit.

Or you might get hired into a position requiring you to do the work of five people and you don’t get overtime pay because you’re executive level and above.

Or… a lot of things. You’ll find out for yourself one day. Don’t be in a hurry to find out.

Sure, school years have different sets of problems. But I think I very much prefer them. Plus I like learning.

Oh, well.

Can’t turn back time, but I can go back to school, even if only for a short time.

The trouble with bikini shopping

I’ve been really busy lately (which explains why my blogs have been coming a bit slow).

More specifically, I’ve been really busy shopping.

Even more specifically, I’ve been really busy shopping for bikinis.



Bikini from Simply Beach.



Shopping for bikinis is a colossal task of epic proportions, inversely proportionate to the proportions that the bikinis in question are tasked to contain.

In other words, the task is huge because the proportions are tiny.

In more words, I’ve been doing a favour to mankind by avoiding being seen in a swimsuit since puberty.

I’ve never had to worry about bikini shopping because I normally just beg off swimming or beach outings. We have a lot better things to do in Singapore than patiently sit on a piece of towel and grow skin cancer cells.



Sun bathing comic



But, this month, I’m going to Mallorca (pronounced mah-yor-ka), a holiday island in the Mediterranean Sea that belongs to Spain, with Piers and his extended family. And I don’t want everyone to think that I’m a hypochondriac recluse by hiding indoors all day when everyone’s out enjoying the sun by the pool or beach, never mind that I am a hypochondriac recluse in fact.

So, I need a swimsuit like everyone else. A proper bikini, because that’s what everyone wears, and none of those granny-style swimsuits that make men wish they’d stayed home that day and never gone to the beach.

Then again, me in a bikini probably inspires the same thought but I figure it’s a lesser evil.

If nothing else, I can always be counted on to dress appropriately for the occasion.

I did toy with the idea of just wearing shorts and t-shirts and pretending that I’m allergic to water or something. But even that might foster the impression of hypochondriac reclusivity, so I decided to just go to heck.

Meaning, I have an excuse to go shopping and Piers can’t say, “You already have enough clothes, dear!”

And he can’t blame me if, along the way, I also pick up a dress or ten, and a half dozen necklaces. And maybe a few pairs of shoes. And don’t forget bracelets because the wrists need loving too. Maybe some handbags to go.

Because having the appropriate outfits with matching effects is very crucial for a successful holiday.



Beach kaftan
Beach kaftan from Simply Beach.



(By the way, this is not advertising. Just happens to be the shop I bought some of my beach clothes from.)


I won’t say how much I’ve spent in the last 10 days because Piers reads my blog. Not that I’m spending his money or anything like that, but boyfriends have a funny way of insisting that you really don’t need another little black dress because they can’t tell the 10 that you already have apart, anyway.

What do they know, really?

So that’s what I have been busy with. You must understand that shopping for bikinis is very time consuming and frustrating for some people, due to the challenging nature of trying to fill a specific shape with nothing.

For some reason, they only make gorgeous bikinis for women with Barbie doll proportions. If your proportions resemble Ken more than Barbie, you have to settle for uglier, plainer designs that make you think maybe swimsuit designers have a shady deal going on with plastic surgeons.

But, after sifting through mountains of photos, I finally settled for less just to end the misery, so now I am done shopping and can get on with my life, which usually involves a bit of blogging and a lot of shopping.

Well, if you don’t tell Piers, I won’t.