Anyway, as much as I would love to no longer be an a**, I am actually more hurt that I am seriously no longer an S. And by this, I mean my dress size. My waist size. My shirt size. My tops. All of the above. It’s true. I AM NO LONGER AN S. What the heck happened?

I’ll tell you what happened. I went to work and got fat.

No warnings no nothing and BAM! fat Renee. I kid you not when I say I am NOT exaggerating. Based on statistics (yes, I performed a statistic on myself. I am that vain), approximately 14 random people from work have whispered lovely statements from the subtle “You look healthy” or “You look strong” (Yes, wth does this even mean?) to the more blunt “You’re arms are getting huge“. Why, thank you very much. And of course, who would in their right mind miss the opportunity to ask me the infamous line “Are you pregnant?“. That was 1/3 of the sample people. One even took the time in between toilet breaks to convince me that I am truly pregnant. Really, thank you kind people.

And I’ve only been working for 5 months in total. So imagine being me, where on average, 2.8 sweet loving people reminding you about your amazing weight every month. I am so lucky it’s not funny.

So I did the most productive thing I could think of to help me with my “situation” (that’s what I’m calling it now) and enrolled myself into the Standard Chartered KL Marathon 2010 recently. Which sadly, I think only managed to pass across the message that fat people can run too. Whatever. I give up.

Notice the last pic? I actually spent half the day, OUT IN PUBLIC, with that cardboard still attached to the inner lining of the cap. What’s that? Yes, ignorance is a bliss.

Have a good look at all these people.

These are all the people I hate. I hate em. Hate em.

Ok, hate may be a lil bit too harsh. Let me rephrase. These are all the people I want dead.

Just kidding. CALM DOWN PEOPLE.

I’m actually safely categorizing them as competitors. Why competitors? Well, I dunno…maybe it has something to do with the fact that they walk like they’re hiding a turbo engine in between their legs running on super efficient fuel dosed with steroids, leaving me behind looking all slow and pathetic.

I mean seriously, check out the lady dressed in green on the furthest left. She was so fast, there was no way I could have beaten her. And believe me, I tried. I tried everything from taking larger steps to hailing down a cab. I even tried hurling my heels towards her. And despite all that, she totally schooled me. In case you haven’t noticed, she’s middle age. Which makes this story a tad more pathetic on my side.

Don’t even get me started with the lady dressed in white in front of her. Look, she’s even carrying weights with her right hand. And a bigger than normal handbag on her left arm. That’s proven scientifically as an added disadvantage. I checked the rules and regulation stated under Olympics 101. Something to do with the aerodynamics of a runner and gravity pull or some sort. For some insane reason, those weren’t slowing her down a bit. She’s middle age too by the way. So someone please kick me now.

If you’ve also noticed, the couple in front of me even had time to chat. I’m sure there were some smiles and romantic words thrown in. Perhaps a bit of singing and poetry reading in between. I, on the other hand, was busy catching my breath, wiping sweat off my armpits, searching for my collapse lung somewhere on the floor, and all this while balancing the damn phone on my hand.

Seriously, WHAT THE HECK ARE THESE PEOPLE ON??

I can say that all this picture is missing would be a granny with a prosthetic leg dashing pass me. But come to think of it, that’s actually quite acceptable seeing that she’s a quarter robot anyway. So it’s pretty un-pathetic for her to limp pass me. I’ll allow granny to live. For now.

So remember last week? When I blogged about my second day of training? And how pumped I was about getting super fit with the horses and the whole Roman empire? Well, I just learned a couple of new things about my body.

Number 1, my body doesn’t do Gregorian calendars. Instead, it had manipulated me with into thinking that IT WAS OK NOT TO EXERCISE FOR A WEEK, created a deceitful calendar behind my back, and care freely pronounced yesterday as the third day of training when it should have been my eight (which isn’t any much better, I know). It wasn’t until I checked my blog had I known that the past week was completely omitted out from my life. Just like that. Seven days deleted from my life. Just like that. And with only three days left of training, believe me, I too, am truly baffled by this. Truly.

Fact number 2, as of yesterday, my body is allergic to sports. My definition of sports is basically anything that involves sweating. And yesterday, I sweated like I’ve never sweated before. I was drenched. Soaked. It wasn’t until I was crawling half way up the hill that I concluded, no man, no being, no living thing will ever beat me at sweating. In fact, even the waterfalls and its grandmas can’t challenge me. I am the ultimate warrior, CHAMPION OF SWEAT. Ok, so I don’t know why I just phrased something so disgusting with full passion, pride, and honor. But it’s true. And by the way, I’m allergic to sports you see. So it’s ok.

Finally, number 3. It has come to attention that I am held hostage against my will. It took me a while, but I realize now that I am trapped in a ruthless terrorism environment. At first I assumed that I was just imagining things, that I needed more sleep than the usual 8 hours because I’m still a growing adult, that all those hours and hours of watching television was a normal therapeutic treatment called eye exercise, and that my body actually required that fifth scoop of rice as nourishment. I know now that my body is actually taking over me. Subconsciously.

So all those insane spontaneous reflexes weren’t mine to begin with. It was my body. Even that time when I hurled the remote control towards the door because I was too lazy to walk 3 meters just to close the door. Or yesterday, when my legs became numbed and paralyzed, leaving me no choice but to square dance myself down the hill with a substitute leg. It wasn’t me. Or even when I kicked a pile of rubbish under the bed because…well, ok that was me. But all those other stuff, it was totally my body’s doing. That traitor.

So to my body I say, how could you ?! We were like family. I bathed you, I fed you, I clothed you. I practically raised you like my own. And you betrayed me. Even right at this moment, you’re making me think about food again. Ohhh…you disgust me. What’s that you say? No need to blog with pictures? Oh no no no, not this time. I’ll show you who’s boss. You don’t tell me what to do, I TELL YOU WHAT TO DO. And I say we post pictures. Comprendo? Good. But right after we go grab a cookie. Come along now…

This top I’m wearing started the day being a lovely dark blue tone and ended the day with a slightly darker shade of disgusting sweat.

We diverted on an alternate way back, passing by a sign that clearly wrote “Pathway Not Encouraged To Take”. But it turned out to be a great place to shoot.

I had…I mean my body had troubles lifting itself onto higher grounds so Raja found a stick, broke off its shoots, re-sized it to my height and blessed me with an awesome third leg. My substitute leg. I love.

Unfortunately I had to leave it behind because what came from the woods belongs back in the woods.

Like it or not, there’s no turning back. It’s official. Raja and I have enlisted our souls to the calling of Mount Kinabalu, Sabah. And because these sort of “special” climbs require prior extensive training, we’re pushing ourselves.

Last minute style, of course.

With only less than 10 days to go, we’re only at our second day of training. Which is bad. Really bad. And like any true loser, my body is already shutting down on me.

When I woke up this morning, I realized that my abs had bought some knives from Home Depot and are jabbing me from inside, my waist was making this disturbingly weird clicking noise, someone had cemented  bricks and a jumbo 747 on my back, and my legs, well don’t even get me started with those worthless twigs. I was a mess.

I still am.

To think that I was broken down by a silly badminton game and a few swings on the golfing range makes me the lamest person ever after Fanny packs and Mullet hair style. Even lamer, I thought I could conquer a 4095 meter mountain with minimum, almost zero training.

In fact, I should be made prime minister for my bravery. Mirage, fantasy, delusion, whatever you want to call it.

As of this desperate moment, I think it’s pretty obvious that I’m expecting a miracle here. It doesn’t even have to be a big one.

Dear God, if you’re listening, please pleaseeee build me an escalator from the base to the peak of Mount Kinabalu. It can even be made out of plastic. Or wood, if forest activists get involved. An elevator or a helicopter would be better. But I’m not fussy. Love always, your lamer than Fanny pack servant.

Technically, this picture proves that we were somewhat in a productive training environment. If you look carefully, that’s me on that horse with a red scarf. It may look like I was galloping away from the hard work behind me, but truth is, I was leading the pack. And I’m not naked, it’s a skin colored top.

I’m saying it’s an unusual cat NOT just because it was treated like a person, a prince, a royal majesty. Who had wagyu beef for dinner, who was dressed in a knitted sweater, or who was chauffeured around town. I’m saying it’s an unusual cat simply because Chomot scares the heck out of everyone. EVERYONE. Well, everyone except Ayu.

At first, I was pretty hesitant. Doubtful. Uncertain. Why everyone is being extra extra extra extra (take a deep breath) EXTRA careful around this cat is totally beyond me. Ok, so Chomot was saved from the jungle and ate snakes for breakfast. He had probably killed a man or two. But that doesn’t prove anything. Fact is, he’s just a cat.

So when I first laid my eyes on Chomot I was like all Aawww…so cute…so soooo cute…come here you cute kitty kitty…

Raja’s eyes immediately made this crazy twitch that looked like he was transmitting Morse codes screaming NOOOOOOO…YOU’RE TOO YOUNG TO DIE!! RUNNNNNNNN…RUN WHILE I DISTRACT THE WILD BEAST…YOU GO SAVE YOURSELF!!

But as I stroked Chomot’s tiny head, nothing happened. No attacks. No killings. No dead bodies.

I think he likes me, I remembered saying to Raja.

From then on, I posed a liking for Chomot. True to form, Chomot was indeed adorable. With his soft white coat covered with splashes of dark brown spots and his stumpy wagging tail. He was an angel.

One day, I sat myself next to him. Feet up on the couch with the newspaper in my hands, elbows resting against my knees. As I flipped through the pages, I could see Chomot staring at my toes. He looked reassuringly innocent so I paid no attention and continued flipping.

Almost immediately I felt a sharp stinging pain coming from below. I looked down and saw my toe in Chomot’s mouth. HE WAS EATING ME. Before I could pull my feet back, he withdrew. I let out a sigh. Woah, that was close.

But the wild beast wasn’t done. He attacked me again. The same toe. Only this time, he bit harder, firmer, angrier. And he wasn’t letting go. It was as if the first bite was a practice shot and the second was MEANT TO KILL. I could literally feel everyone around me taking a step back, gasping in awe, and pulling out their video cameras as Chomot feasted on the chosen sacrifice. Me.

I remembered shrieking. Not out of delight. I remembered fainting. Infinite times. I remembered seeing the light at the end of the tunnel and my great great ancestors calling out to me. Okay, I’m exaggerating here. Truth is, it was excruciating.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally unclenched his jaws of death. I think he gave up seeing that my toe refused to part with the rest of my foot. Needless to say, I was just happy to get rid of Chomot before further damage was done to the rest of my body parts.

From then on, I no longer posed a liking for Chomot. Instead, I posted a huge WANTED sign on his forehead.

Despite being a freelance assassin, Chomot was indeed adorable. With his white coat covered with splashes of dark brown spots and his wagging stumpy tail. He was an angel. Well, he was also the devil. Almost 3/4 of Chomot was practically formed by the devil himself. But that’s what makes him perfect.

Unfortunately, Chomot was diagnosed with kidney failure and had passed on to a better world. Nevertheless, his memories and killing attempts will forever be embedded in our hearts, minds, and souls.

Ayu was kind enough to send me a picture of Chomot. Ain’t he a doll?

Okay, so I know I’m 4 days off track from the actual New Year. But I was crazy flocked with work and things to do. Any time I had in between was rest time. Seriously. I actually had 3 hours of sleep, woke up, shot some pics, drove home, slept an hour, woke up again, hurried back to the same event and shot more pics. What the hey hey? Right?

Currently, my eye bags and I are at odds with each other. We are no longer talking. It’s quite disturbing but I think they may have recruited my skin and my youth into their mob too. Even more upsetting, I suspect that my hair may be their ring leader.

Nevertheless, I wouldn’t trade anything for this feeling. I can’t believe I’m so in love with something non-human this much. I really really actually do love photography.

Who would’ve thought that pig-tailed girl from primary school who had never gotten an A in arts or even a B minus for that matter, would be doing something so…artful? Well, I didn’t. In fact, I hated taking pictures or even getting my pictures taken. So in a way, I had beaten all odds and ventured into something out of the blue for me.

And in light of 2010, I would like to venture into another 10 unforeseen things, if I could.

1. Safely perform Hajj with Raja.

2. Get my scuba diving license. And dive in at least 3 different islands.

3. Exercise. Like seriously develop an exercise regime that actually works. Or learn to except my weight. No matter how “surprising” it may be.

4. Get a full frame FX camera body (Check! Did this last year).

5. Read more. So I can stop pretending to know what others are talking about and actually know it.

6. Continue to cook horrible food. In hopes of getting to eat takeouts.

7. Attempt another 2 actuarial papers. And PASSING them. Without passing out.

8. Learn to understand and speak in a third language. Not just the foul ones. And yes, in proper sentences, slang, and all that.

9. To lessen the time to think, decide, and order drinks from a Mamak shop from 2.5 minutes to 0.5 minutes.

10. Remember to continue enjoying life, love, fun, people, and photography. Even if my eye bags and its gang members feel otherwise.

I would’ve added have a baby or something but my list of 10 things are full. Sorry dad. Maybe next year then. Here’s a pic of me holding a piece of an engraved shell by the shores of Mataking island in Tawau Sabah. One of the places I want to scuba dive. Sabah!

5) The first person you encountered said she got the job, WEARING JEANS, during her interview.

4) The head of the department that you requested to join referred to himself as an eccentric person.

3) The office is within a stone’s throw of a distance. And is conveniently wedged between two of the biggest shopping malls. Civilization!

2) The department that you requested to join was repetitively referred to as a Planet of its own. Brings you closer to your childhood fantasies of being an astronaut.

And the ultimate top reason to get off your buttocks and slave for this company would be….drum-rolls please…

1) The CEO who was interviewing you, excused himself several times during the interview to work on his Farmville. A.W.E.S.O.M.E.!

Two words. Guard dog.

I swear that dog has Black & Decker power tools fitted in between its paws and teeth after seeing the aftermath of my dad’s car. We were all speechless, our jaw dropping lower than saggy old great-granny boobs. I honestly didn’t think there were any words worth saying to make it any better. No actions worth taking to ease the pain.

None, unless I painted alternate red and white stripes around the dog’s head and bought my dad a bow and LOTS of arrows. But that would be mean. Maybe a shotgun would be quicker.

Nevertheless, my dad has a heart of gold too. He came, he saw, and he forgave. Well, actually he came, he saw, he fell down, had a heart attack, cursed in several languages, bashed his head against the wall, then he forgave.

I managed to snap some disaster shots using Raja’s iPhone 3GS.

The culprit. Who even managed to chew the sides of all four mud guards, rip out the right reverse sensor, peel the bottom cover off, break half the antenna holder, and scratch the car paint in many MANY places. I’m telling you, he most definitely used power tools.

I could barely get myself out of bed today. Trapped in a fetal position, my body was like a soaked sponge. I was shivering, covered in cold sweat despite having myself wrapped around a thick blanket.

It was at this time of misery, in all modesty, I prayed. I prayed so hard  to pass out. Seriously. Someone just punch me already.

My menstrual cycles were definitely planning the next World War while on an endless Disneyland vacation this month. The pain from the abdominal cramps were phenomenally insane. With the all-you-can-ride-for- free-roller-coaster crap going around in my tummy, I was almost ready to perform an open heart surgery on myself just to draw the pain away. Well, almost.

Instead, I was busy visualizing on the paperwork for adoption. If this is PMS, think child birth. And if only Raja was a hand distance away from me I’d grab him, strangle him lifeless, and stomp him on the ground just for the possibility of me going through child labor. But I was in a lot of pain so I wasn’t really in the fittest position to kill someone. Maybe later.

Nevertheless, it made me see the side of Raja that I’ve never seen before. His concerned, clueless side that it. It was crazy, he asked me a million questions when I was clearly half dead on the bed. Where are the medicines? Do you wanna go see a doctor? Do you wanna eat something? What should I do? I could barely nod and shake my head before asking him to just leave me alone.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he switched on his wife-rescuing mode. The next thing I knew, I was swallowing a packet of Chi Kit Teck Aun pills, sipping on nice warm tea, laying in a hot tub filled with bubbles, and resting my head against a towel folded pillow. Ok, maybe I will have that baby with him after all.

But seriously, it worked. Not the baby thingy silly, the whole abdominal pain-free thingy. It’s good to know that he didn’t bail on me when I told him to. Although, he did keep a safe distance from me the entire time. Perhaps my fangs and claws had something to do with it. Then again, maybe it was just my imagination.

Because I couldn’t take a picture of me in the tub for obvious reasons, here’s a sneak on what’s coming out soon.

I really can’t blame him though because my dad, being a pilot, went to many many places around the world and brought back all sorts of goodies for us to munch on. He would come home with the weirdest, coolest, most awesomeness stuff that anyone, or at least any Malaysian could ever think of during that time. It was just too much of a temptation living next door to a family with a Santa Claus fridge.

Back then, the 1-foot chewing gum was a total crowd pleaser around my neighborhood. I could even share it with all the kids along with their imaginary friends and still have some to stick under my mum’s kitchen table. It was so cool it raised my level of coolness by 34%. Uhuh, I was THAT cool!

Among other wicked stuff were odd shaped chocolates, swirly red and white mint candies, worm jelly, sourish color-changing gumballs, and the list goes on. But alas, now you can just run down to Toys’R'Us and grab a bucket full if you wanted to. Ah, so much for the 34% increase.

Anyway, one day he did his usual routine of dropping by our house and head straight to the kitchen. Inside the fridge, he found a box full of tiny chocolate cubes, much like the pieces snapped from a Rubik’s cube. When he knew no one was looking, he grabbed a handful of them and stuffed it down his throat.

A sudden pause.

That’s weird, he thought to himself. It didn’t taste so good. It didn’t even taste sweet like any candy or chocolate was supposed to.

Out of guilt and a tinge of panic, he finally confessed to me. He innocently questioned about the peculiar tasting chocolate and felt instantly uneasy when I gave him a confused look.

Huh, what chocolate cubes?

It turns out that HE HAD ACTUALLY EATEN FISH FOOD. It was stored in there to last longer. To be more specific, they were mini cube worms. Yuck!

Speaking of refrigerators, ours had finally arrived this evening. The lorry transporting it broke down but our nothing-can-stop-me-fridge made its way into our kitchen. It’s safe to know that Raja and I do not own any fishes, or any pets for that matter. So the next time you drop by, feel free to peek into our fridge and grab anything you like.

The clutter from the previous fridge.

The new fridge. Before vandalized.

The new fridge. After pimped and blinged.