As Lithe as a Cat

A World Away...

2011-10-25T21:49:00.001-07:00

Dear....,

I am now in....ASIA!

I can't say where exactly...but it's definitely south of cool and north of FUCKING AWESOME.

Sorry, A bit too excited on my end : )

It's been more than a month since I landed, and I have to say...it's a world away from London.

I escaped. I escaped unemployment, I escaped the impending doom that is tearing apart Eurozone...and more importantly, I escaped the Russian. Comrade.

Here's what's happened since coming.

He saw me once before I left...was too "busy" see me again, and left to visit the other Russian up north (you know the one I am talking about)....the weekend before I left. It was my last time in the country and he decides to just not see me. Fine.

Then asks me to write him something so I do...and explaining why I moved. A lot of "i was really in pain, i was unhappy blah blah"...

To that he responds still not understanding and signs off with a "love you, m"....

...and then I just exploded. I knew not to take the L word from him seriously, but also wanted to let him know how I truly felt over the last few years...so I told him I loved him, but I am not the girl for him.

In so many words, I left him.

And last week he replied back...and basically said "I can have genuine feelings for more than one person...I would have hurt you and we would have never been friends again...not in the same way"

It was a painful decision leaving London, but I am glad I made that choice. Especially considering the boy I would have stayed for had no intentions of treating me seriously.

The thing is I never wanted him to breakup with his girlfriend for me. He would just be replacing her...and who knows how long it would be before he did the same to me? I guess I dont...trust him. And he confirmed that with his reply. He would always have lingering feelings for his girlfriend, who has no choice but to stay with him and bear the burden of watching him divert his attentions to others.

I can't do it. I cant keep loving someone, if that's what this is...and not receive much in return. So I moved on...and that's the last time I spoke to him. It's been exactly two years since we met...and I am happy to have known him.

There were many tears last week...

It's been a huge adjustment to a different culture...and with constant fevers...and going to work in spite of it to prove that I am serious...and now this. I had a breakdown last Tuesday.

And since then, the mind is freer. A big huge venting slash crying session was needed, but after...I felt a huge burden had been released. I felt free...and lighter.

I think about him every now and then, but with work and gym and shopping and generally falling into rhythm here...I am slowly forgetting about him.

I will never see him again.

I made the right decision.

I am protecting myself.

...And that's that.

On to a new life in Asia...tho this is temporary as in a few months I am returning to California. I am just here to gain skills...and in the mean time, take a well needed break and treat myself to luxuries I dreamt of in London...

I shall speak about work, food, and gyming in my next post.

Until then, the Cat is alive and well...more than well, doing fabulously in an entirely new world!

Love,
Belle

Gilded cage

2011-08-09T12:50:00.000-07:00

He is FUCKING UNBELIEVABLE.

Like seriously. I am leaving so he stops talking to me. Unbelievable.

Unbelievable. The nerve. The sheer nerve.

I walked around the City today, looking longingly at the place I once worked at. I walked around, had lunch and realized how incredibly done I was with this place. I am done. I don't want to be here, I have nothing left for me here, and quite frankly, it hasn't exactly been great with my personal life here.

The thing is, I dont feel anything when it comes to "love". I am just sad, and tired. I was too scared to hold his hand. I can't believe how scared I was to hold his hand. I just didn't want to. I really didn't.

He won't bring me happiness, just sadness. A girl in a gilded cage.

I guess I just miss the attention. But the thing is, we had a great working relationship. Going shopping, having coffeee...dinner on occasion...drinks. Talking about god only knows what...but now, it's boring. We have gotten distant mainly because of the job I have taken on. Like, I need to find my own happiness and if it comes with the job, then I have to put myself first.

I can't believe him.

In a way, London now has become that as well. It's a cage and I need to get out.

I am going to miss walking by the Bank of England. Along Gresham Street...losing myself in the winding cobbled foothpaths that take you to nowhere...and somewhere important all at the same time.

My tickets are booked for the end of the month but now I really want to just go back to California.

I can't believe him.

Fuck. I just lost a really good friend.

Belle

Without a Heart

2011-08-09T04:10:00.000-07:00

I wish, I so wish...I didn't have a heart. or emotions.

That way, I wouldn't have to feel this pain.

I miss him.

I am now unemployed again, and am leaving in three weeks.

I am still in denial about all of this, but I made a decision...and now I have to stick to it.

I miss him.

I thought this would be easy, but it looks like it's slowly going to dawn on me...what I am letting go off.

I have to be stronger than this.

Job rejections and now this. I am tired.

I really am.

I wish I didn't have to feel anything. It's been so long since I felt genuinely happy...I dont even know what that feels like anymore. I am tired. and I want to go away...some where far far away.

Belle

Onwards and Upwards

2011-07-31T13:22:00.000-07:00

Who knows where my life will take me? Who knows anymore?

I am happier. Lighter. Cleaner.

I met up with Comrade yesterday at his place for a BBQ with a mutual friend and his girlfriend.

When his g/f is away, I am the one he calls.

No way I am playing this game.

I was away to California for a week to see my parents, and was ridiculously sick for the next two weeks in July. I only just recovered from the jet lag, the cough, the periods, the hay fever...He thought I wasn't meeting up with him because I was ignoring him. I was taking care of myself.

Admittedly, he did try contacting me, but when I spoke to him last week, it was "maybe...we [his g/f and himself] are going to this place..."

Seriously. Only two-three weeks, and you're already like this? I was taking care of myself you buffoon. I did send him a text last Friday night being like, "i wish i was there where you are blah blah"

and he was like "you are being sweet today"...and then invites me to his BBQ.

He is comfortable with his girlfriend, the same girl who is fairly throwing shooting eye daggers at me...

Comrade, I am not the backup girlfriend that you want me to be.

I am not getting any younger, and you just aren't nearly as aggressive/strong enough to be my boyfriend.

For the first time, everything made sense today. I want him to be my friend, I want him in my life...but just not in that capacity. He will never take a risk on me, and quite frankly, there are other boys in the world.

I am not impressed. and I am happy knowing my career dreams are still in tact. Who knows if I will reach them in this job market, but I want to chase after something as opposed to letting them go because of a guy who will confine me to a housewife role that Comrade's girlfriend is...

I can't. In the short term it would be good, but in the long term...I would pay the price. For what? For me to be the fling? No.

Sorry. No. Just no.

I am done. finito.

I want my career to be amazing, whevever that maybe. I am still in denial about leaving London, but the tickets are booked for end of August.

Nothing amazing will come up, and according to Susan Miller (astrology extraordinaire) I shouldn't accept anything next month unless I absolutely have to.

I want to go to Hong Kong, Singapore...exciting growing markets...

anyway. I am happy folks. Last week of internship, very sad...but hey.

Losing weight after my trip to California. La mere, who I am in good terms with, fed me like a thanksgiving turkey. gained weight ... happysad.

Anyway, cross my fingers and wish me luck everyone! Last month in London...few applications sent locally, Paris, Singapore, and Shanghai! Who knows where I will be in a months' time!

The uncertainty...gotta love it!

All is well,
Belle

Fresh Start

2011-07-03T11:12:00.000-07:00

Wow...my updates just seem to be so sparse as of late. Apologies.

So I moved in with magsbag and mannequin. I know. When did this happen?

So we had a massive fight over the last year, and in May, I decided that Mannequin was right about many many things, and was wrong about many many things.

His ex, Marilyn is getting married. To a rich guy who may or may not be gay. I dont know for sure. And quite frankly, I am too tired to care.

This is what happened. Over the last year, I grew to like Marilyn but noticed certain things about her. She was needy...as in, always needs someone's attention on her. This is fine, because I have met far too many people like her and I know what to do. It's just bothered me towards the end of 2010 when it seemed that far too many things were going wrong in her life. But, I stayed out because it wasn't my life. It just seemed like she was making mistakes (as we all do, example, me)...but making mistakes that could have been easily avoidable for the normal person with some level of common sense. Then...because everything is going so "Wrong" in her life, she decides that marriage...to a guy she's been properly dating since December, announced in February because she needs a visa to work in this country....is the "best" decision for her.

Normally, I would say...hey, it's your life. Do whatever you want. But this, it irked me. It irked me because it seemed as if this girl was just giving up on herself instead of actually, you know, taking responsibility for herself. I mean, who am I to talk? I am 24, with a masters degree, and still living in London my parents money. Seriously. but still.

So we had a massive fight about this in May. Talk about May Day! I mean really. I told her that she was being an idiot...ofcourse no one likes to hear this, but it's a mistake. Not the guy, the marriage itself. She replies "in two years, I will prove you wrong".

Seriously? Prove me wrong? Not my life, I repeat, not my life. It smells, sounds, and looks like an arrangement, and from what I gather from her ex, it seems like she wants to get married...and wow! here's a rich guy and who can provide for her, but doesn't actually know her all that well.

The thing is, with me, I figured it out. Sweet girl, lovely...and very supportive...but only when it's convenient for her. It worries me because I tolerated it for awhile, but then you know, kind of let go and was like no. I am sorry but I can't keep giving and giving and giving and coming over every time you are bored, scared, worried blah blah blah especially since if I have a problem, most of the time, it doesn't actually concern you. Or at least you act that way. I figured it out after a few times of hanging out with her in London, and realized she is a close friend only when she's in a another city.

What worries me? She will pull the same stunt with her fiance. Her fiance is rich, she is moderately so. In another country all together. If she gets this clingy and does things for her own convenience...it wont be long before he notices...and then what? Married at 24, Divorced at 26? No. She may have irritated me, but that I wouldn't wish on anyone.

So I spent that weekend in May crying. I got the internship, and wasn't even happy for myself. Then I realized something. She's 24. She's an adult. She can sort herself out. I am not getting worked up over someone else, especially knowing that if the positions were reversed, she would carry half the worry (at best) that I did.

So that's that. I'm done. I am being selfish with my time and energy. And for the first, I realized that Mannequin was perhaps right in his own way, and forgave him for it.

So I moved in with them. I know, way to switch sides eh.

Last weekend I moved, and had an interview. My time in London is over. That interview didnt go well, and I am too tired in this city. Far too much has happened...and I am falling for Comrade.

A few weeks ago, I found out that he is this secret super rich guy. I found out about his background. I can't say anything else, but lets just say he is wealthy beyond anything I could possibly imagine.

And I cried to him about Marilyn. Told him about how it was inappropriate to marry a guy because he is rich...and that it's too costly for just a pair of shoes, and that you really should marry for love. Because I thought he was well off, but not like ridiculously holy shit rich. I was falling for him way before I found out, but now...I am slightly scared to be around him

Scared because I respect him that much more now. Inspite of having that much money, he is doing all he can to make his way in the world. good for him, bad for me.

There was a point when I couldn't stop thinking about him. But now. I have to. He has his beautiful girlfriend, who apparently, is pulling a Marilyn stunt...and wow, if I did do anything I would be pulling a magsbags stunt. Seriously, my life has just become a can of worms as of late.

Which is why I am thinking of moving. I need to get away from all of this, and so...there's this firm that's has connections with the place I am working at right now...and they have a training program in Asia. Asia is booming. Emerging market. Why not?

A fresh start. London has been good to me, but I am getting tired. I need to move.

Walking into work and tomorrow and discussing this with my boss.

Dear readers...where is my life heading? Oh the uncertainties...

Belle

2011-06-13T14:31:00.001-07:00

So I started working three weeks ago, and this is my fourth week (wow time flies!)...

It's going good. I dont actually get any critique so it's up to me really to constantly improve myself because I dont like making mistakes.

However, it's unpaid, but I like my work.

Now I say I like it, but I actually love it. You see, it's hard for me to actually say that because it means that I have a goal...and my fear is that I won't reach it. But I suppose I should be confidence in what I want and go towards it. So many times I have said this and it never worked out, so now I am scared to actually admit because I will actually be devastated if this doesnt work out either. Devastated. But I suppose that's the risk you take in setting goals. You work towards it and see it where it takes you.

I want to progress into mergers and acquisitions but dont know what internship/paid job I will come across next. Do you see the worry in all of this? There are major insecurities.

That, and I have no credit card to fall back on. So now, I have to squeeze the living daylights out of every pound...walk 40 minutes to work and basically you know, deal with life as it comes.

Pray for me. Seriously, no idea where I am going from here.

Belle

Eureka?

2011-05-16T14:04:00.001-07:00

I start end of the month!

It's unpaid, it's for one month, and I have no idea where to go from here. I really dont. But guess what, it's a foot in the door and I finally have something on my plate. Finally.

FINALLY.

We'll see what fate has in store for me. Seriously.

Major drama and updates on the way.

But really quickly. I saw the Russian again yesterday. Total chance as Comrade contacted me and so I met up with him...only to meet Russian and his friends. It was...awkward. to say the least. I made small chat...and he look hot as ever.

UGH. NOT PINING OVER HIM. NO.

oh the tears. the tears. i think i have residual feelings starting...but no! I went through this drama last year, and I refuse...absolutely REFUSE to fall for him again. no no no no no.

anyway. just saying.

he still looked fucking hot tho. would jump his bones. but i have gained weight...and he definitely toned up. definitely.

Belle

Hello

2011-05-01T11:17:00.000-07:00

Not much going on in my life I'm afraid. Though I may have a shot at getting an unpaid internship in my field.

: )

Yea, I know what you're probably thinking.

Master's degree. Unpaid Internship. Really?

Really.

I have to start somewhere.

I don't think I want to work at the Goldmans of the world, but I certainly want to be at places like Blackstone or Lazard or Rothschild...

or for that matter, Evercore...Moelis...really awesome boutique banks.

I am buying a suit this week. That will most definitely cheer up, but I am sure the size probably wont.

This is a weight blog, but I think now...my priorities have drastically shifted since I started writing. I want to be thin, but that should be the by product of working hard. Not the main focus of my life.

Hmmm....

Yea, this whole becoming the person I want to be is hard work, but then again, if it was easy it wouldn't be hard right? Right.

Anyway.

Returning to the States in June. Late June actually. Sigh, ah well...onto better things!

In good spirits, and that's that for now.

Belle

The Tarot Says...

2011-04-12T14:00:00.000-07:00

I paid a tarot reader 50 pounds to reassure me.

This is something la mere should be doing...for free. So I spoke to this woman a couple nights ago, and told her about the asshole hungarian who wanted to take me home. Her response:

"Why you, I mean...is he that desperate?"

I mean, I shouldn't expect anything else from her. I really shouldn't. I mean, why not me? I am hot. I am cool. I am amazing.

For some reason, in her mind, I am so worthless and uncool, people talk to me as if they are doing me a favor. I really dont understand why this woman thinks this way, but as it stands, it's more of a reason to actually seperate myself from her.

The funny thing is, as unsupportive, negative, and downright callous as she has been over the last few years, she expects me to take her side when she complains about my dad...or anyone else for the matter.

I have stopped. I listen, and just skip the conversation. Because...she isn't worth my time anymore. I speak to this woman once every six-ten weeks. It's nuisance when she calls, it's nuisance after she calls...she is just an unnecessary nuisance.

The only help she has given is powering my runs. Yea, I go to the gym and workout in anger. It does miracles you know.

So at my lowest point, which I hit yesterday, I went to a tarot reader. I needed guidance...a friendly voice...but more importantly, I needed reassurance that the path I am on is the right one.

The uncertainty exists and I always wonder if this is what I should be doing. Corporate Finance. Advisory. Banking. Ibanking.

Even writing this is scaring because I feel like if I talk about it, it wont happen. I dont know why.

July-Dec, I was all about trading, and I realized that it wasn't for me. It just wasn't, mainly because I was only doing it to prove that I could I do it. I hit final round at one of the best banks in the world, and realized that...I didn't want it that badly after all. My heart was always on corporate finance, and it's taken several years to realize I should just wholeheartedly...go after it.

A tarot reader. What she said to me was this:

"Have faith, and Let go"

Both of which I am struggling to do, but I suppose I have to. I have to let go and see what happens.

I am blessed to have my dad's financial support in all of this. That I will never forget. Sigh.

Le sigh.

Oh readers, I wonder when this will end. I really do.

Belle

The Chase

2011-04-09T11:23:00.000-07:00

So...apparently, for guys, it's all about the chase.

I don't actually understand this concept, but hey, if I don't have to do anything...then that's amazing!

Amazing!

Makes my lazy heart sing with joy. I wonder what it's like to be chased after. I really wonder who is thinking about me.

I just assume if you like a guy, you should let him know. But then again, that's not really worked out for me in the past so perhaps try this, "don't do anything"...just accept compliments.

See the thing about people complimenting me, is that I just can't deal with compliments. I complain about people putting me down, but equally, I can't take compliments.

I always have to return the compliment. It just seems fair.

I guess this part of the recovering from dealing...with...you guessed it, my mother. Most of my relationships...are me taking the inferior, "I am so honored" to have you as a friend etc. etc. Because that's what it was like with my mother. Like I am not worthy of attention, because I was not worthy of her approval.

Which was always why I tried so hard to do everything to please her, because that, in some way, made me think that I would win her affection...approval...love. And I replicated that with many many people. I am only now coming to terms with this, and have rapidly readjusted friendships...so that's more of a balance.

After many years, and after many tears, I have come to realize that I will never be perfect. But then again, what is perfect? What exactly am I chasing after? Surely, I am fine just the way I am. Surely I have the right to feel comfortable in my own skin.

Surely, I have the right to find my own happiness. Surely...

I used to think that when people talked to me, they were just taking pity and doing me a favor. I know right? Pretty warped thinking.

Sigh. I am not angry with her anymore...I am just trying to build my own confidence. I can't blame her for anything, I should accept what is and move on.

Because. Because. Because.

I see so many people from different walks of life on a daily basis. Seriously. People who don't have the opportunities, the education...or the chances that I have gotten. I suppose this was what Mannequin was referring to back in October when he called me out on this very subject.

For that reason, I should try harder and chase after my goals. I have one life to live, what exactly do I have to do with all that time.

Seriously. I am secure in knowing what I want...and while I have always doubted myself and my abilities...and my confidence, I think today. I should just put all those fears aside, and just do it.

For the first time, I am chasing after my goals not for anyone else...but for myself. And that feeling is pretty damn amazing. It's daunting, because my failures are my own...but likewise, my successes are my own.

There is no point in thinking..."what if I fail?" "what if I don't make it?"

No. Just work and study like there's no tomorrow, and leave the rest to fate.

I never really bothered trying because I always thought I would fail. That fear of failure has stopped me from properly applying myself.

I have something to live for now. My own happiness.

Isn't that worth the chase?

Belle

Update!

2011-04-01T03:53:00.001-07:00

Hello all.

I have some explaining to do.

I haven't really been busy...just really depressed. That's all.

I have gained weight.

Since January, not much has happened.

But overall, the tone of this year is much chirpier than last. I am not sure why.

I don't have a job. I have gained weight.

But I have friends. A proper support system around it's kind of amazing.

I think I have been going at things by myself...thinking "I need to be stronger" blah blah blah.

The reality is, I have suffered tremendously because of it.

I need someone holding my hand...and as it turns out, there are so many people who are willing to do that for me. It's kind of...amazing.

I am calmer...happier...and well, while everything is still up in the air, I am blessed with what I have.

So let's start with BOYS as this is now my favorite subject.

The russian. So over that.

Now I am in the phase of DATE LOADS of people and see what happens. I am actually going for coffee with this hungarian next week, but that's an interesting story.

A few weeks ago, I went to this bankers party. I have no idea why, but apparently, I come off as a trophy wife. That was interesting because tired bankers, with no means to really pick up girls, tend to thing that I will go home with them. That I am there to find someone rich blah blah blah.

And I get treated as such. It's annoying, but I realized...I can have fun with this.

So the hungarian's flatmate, who I wont even name because he was just scum. just scum...decides that he is so cool that he could and did grab my waist and pulled me closer towards him at this party.

He wanted to take me home. Threw so many comments as to how he was so good in bed and how I will have the time of my life. But I think what pissed me off is how thought I was stupid. "Do you know M&A is?"

Fuck you. Screw off. I spent most of my time studying or applying I know what M/A is you douche.

Sorry, I felt really insulted and then to top if off, he just thought he could be suave in his drunken state and take me home. Ugh.

SO I proceeded to play along with it...and spent 20 minutes building his ego and making him think I was going home....only to just drop him and leave to meet with my friends.

It was awesome but at the same time I royally pissed him off.

Yea. So now I am meeting his flatmate because...his flatmate was actually sweet.

Anyway. Amsterdam. Got high, ridiculously drunk went to seedy bars and overall enjoyed my weekend. it was fun. i like that city. just don't think I could work there. I would need a ridiculously intense job there in order for me to move.

Ugh.

Anyway.

Belle

The Long Wait

2011-03-31T03:14:00.000-07:00

Omgod. I am so stupid sometimes it's not even funny.

I was in Amsterdam last weekend to drink and smoke away my woes of not having a job. And in tune with my surroundings, decided that it would be fun to take a boy home.

Cough cough NOT.

Okay, I am now PANICKING.

This next part is candid, so be warned.

He was Dutch and I had drunk goggles on. Not sure why I did what I did, I just wanted to know if I had the balls to take off my clothes in front of a guy. Apparently, I can.

We didn't actually have sex. It was my first time, and it really hurt every time he tried to enter. That, and apparently, I was totally not turned on by this guy. He was for sure, but not me. Probably why it hurt so much. It was protected for sure, but I am not sure if I am going to get pregnant or not.

You never know with these things. You just never do.

UGH. OMGOD. WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY.

So I have to patiently until the dates of my next period to know for sure. That is one hell of a long wait.

Oh geez. Last time I ever pull these stunts again. No sex till marriage, I can't handle this stress. I really can't.

Ugh.

Belle

In Better Spirits

2011-01-10T12:33:00.000-08:00

My goodness, how things have a way of resolving themselves.

So this recent job rejection came as a major blow, but in a way, I am relieved.

These last few weeks have been really clearing, and my career goals have shifted significantly in the last few months. For a start, I want a career. A long prosperous one.

Forget the money. Forget the prestige. I just want to be challenged.

See the thing about markets, is that for the next two decades, I'll be doing the same thing over and over again.

With the recent interviews, I have learned where my strengths and weaknesses are. I'll speak more on this in the coming weeks, but for now, please note that my spirits are high. No meltdowns around the corner. I promise.

On love and romance. The Russian situation is resolved. I sent a brief message at the end of the year to clear my conscience. I told him exactly what I thought: I was hurt, but I am not anymore. I was angry, but I am not anymore. And with great subtlety, I was into you, but I am not anymore.

Are there any lingering feelings? Residuals will always exist, but it's important that I move on now. I made my peace, I said my thing, and I brought closure to an issue that should have been shut down tightly ages ago.

Of course he replies, directly apologizing and saying that he met another girl he thought he was in love with etc. and that he never meant to hurt me and that he was not a nice person.

I give him credit for apologizing. I give me credit for responding. I give him credit for recognizing how much of an asshole he was.

However, knowing that I was so easily substitutable just hurt. How can you fall in love with someone so easily? "I did like you, but I met what I thought was the love of my life."

Like how am I supposed to respond to that? Again I feel discarded. An apology would have sufficed, but details of who I "lost" too are unnecessary.

Anyway, I guess I boxing him in the "damned if he does, damned if he doesn't" category. A Catch 22 of sorts.

I just dont want to deal with this emotion. I am not sure what it is, but I just want it to go away.

I don't want to pursue anyone. Because it hurts when the pursuee falls for someone else and only gave you a glance because that person liked the attention. It's like he waited for someone better to come along and I was useless at the point.

Fair enough he moved to a new city. It's lonely being in a city without too many friends, let alone a new one. I can understand all that, but why tell me?

Sorry. I am belaboring, but it hurts knowing that I liked someone more than they liked me back. It's not enough.

My heart is bruised.

My mother.

In a ten minute conversation, I essentially summarized what I have said on here about her. About the way she handles criticism from me, and how I found it so frustrating that there was no point in me talking to her. She put down the phone, and the matter, as always, is buried. Well she knows now, it's up to her to deal with it. I have had enough.

As I said, I am starting the new year off with a clear conscience. I can't say I am over it, but I will definitely move on. I need to grow up and mature a little bit.

and I need to find a job.

In all of this I have learned one thing. As risk seeking as I am when it comes to matters of career, I am that risk averse when it comes to affairs of the heart.

What a balance.

in better spirits,
Belle

News in the New Year

2011-01-09T04:07:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year.

Happy New Decade.

Happy ___________.

I got rejected.

Not the end of the world, but the job hunt starts again.

Belle

In Purgatory

2010-12-11T03:25:00.000-08:00

I'm in the waiting period.

Had my interview...sorry, interviews earlier this week. It took two days of sleep and bare minimum human contact to fully recover.

Eight interviews, 4.5 hours. I know. I'm exhausted just thinking about it.

That makes it a total of 11 interviews trying to get into this bank.

The first one went...reasonably well. The discussion entailed an analysis of financial news. QE + Eurozone politics. All exciting stuff, with brief testing on how quickly I can understand financial products.

The second one. That was interesting. Every now and then I hear of stories of horrible interviewers being absolutely stern and tough all in the name of testing the interviewees ability to handle an investigative line of questioning.

Oh my god. This man was good looking, but wow I definitely struggled. He just went at it for 20 minutes, with every minute verbally questioning my ability to do the job...only to proceed to be occupied by his cell phone half way in. It was harsh, strict, but...

I didn't cry. Again, after this year I think my tear ducts are dry. I have used my yearly quota of tears, so much so that I was shocked yes, but stood my ground. My answers were terrible to say the least, and I would understand if they didn't like me or thought I wasn't good enough for the position...but...

I didn't cry. Apparently, girls cry at these things. They probably thought I was really defensive and I wouldn't be surprised if this desk didn't hire me. But there were two more desks at the same company that I expressed interest in...

so after a rather tumultuous 2nd interview, I now wonder how I manged to get through the next 6. Desperation. It was all or nothing, and I couldn't let one guy determine the outcome of the following interviews.

The next three- purely technical. But this point, it was two hours in, and I realized that I had lost two desks. I stumbled so far south, that I really just didn't know what to do.

But alas, kept going. I had three more interviews with a different division...keep a happy face on, and just keep walking. It's fine.

And it was. I really like the guys who talked to me towards the end. It was relaxing and just nice to be able to discuss economics...politics...the bank. It refreshing even, and after four hours, I was happy that the day ended on a positive note.

I didn't even expect this division to interview me, but they did. I can see myself working for them. Now I just have to wait for the phone call.

These days I just keeping thinking of how I could have better handled these questions or how I could have done x number of things correctly...

but I did the best I could. And that's all I can do.

So now I wait. Patiently.

I didn't go to the Russian's party. That's the end of that.

Life has come to a stand still. I am applying for parttime positions around the city because I do need money now. What's life without a bit of struggle eh?

At least I have a roof over my head, really good friends...good food every now and then, but most of the time I go to bed hungry....

You'd think I'd lose weight. No no no...the times I don't eat are taken care of by friends who basically are feeding me. Net effect = no weight loss >

Anyway. Thanks for the moral support, I just need to pray now that they liked me enough to give me a position this summer.

Belle

STRESS

2010-12-05T10:29:00.000-08:00

stress.

STRESS

STRESS

STRESS

STRESS

STRESS

S T R E S S

S T R E S S S S S S S S S S S S S S

!

fini

belle

Awake and Breathing

2010-12-04T04:33:00.000-08:00

Right.

It's been awhile.

I haven't had exams or anything.

I have been majorly networking. This involves going to bank events, panels, debates, informational sessions...the like.

All in the hope of getting more information and trying to push through my application as far as I possibly can.

This resulted...in one application getting as far as final round interview. Next Monday. Already had one last month, and I am...

(a) excited
(b) scared
(c) nervous
(d) thrilled
(e) and them some.

To be honest, I am not sure what to think anymore. I am tired and emotionally exhausted. Last weekend, I spent the entire Saturday in bed and literally felt anvil on my heart...everything seemed hopeless.

Waking up in the mornings is the hardest thing to do. I don't know how many applications I have sent, and how many rejections I have received. But I am here.

Barely alive and always hungry.

I was reading through my posts I have written since my arrival in London and I can't believe how much I have changed.

The Russian...I can't believe I gave him so much importance. I saw him again at a party last month but ignored him. Of course, he goes and invites me to his birthday party...which is today, but I am not going. I have no money. It's embarrassing to meeting people and say that I am unemployed. But most importantly, I am over you and I don't want anything to do with you.

Is what I want to say. I still think of him occasionally, but I have so many other things going on, I just can't be bothered anymore. I still get excited seeing him, but then I am like...I don't want to talk to you. Never ending saga.

Much has happened since I wrote last. Remember Mannequin? The friend from my alma mater who started being really mean this time last year? The one who I avoided this whole year. So in October he invites me to MagsBags surprise birthday party to which I promptly decline. Of course, he basically lambasts me for ignoring him and having "ill founded grievances".

With the year I have had, I think I became stronger. I refuse to take crap from anyone anymore. I wanted to be treated with respect. So I sent a very long message essentially saying everything I wrote about on this blog about him. All done with class and maturity. He then sends back yet another harsh message. Loads of fancy words which all amounted to fluff. Not much of an argument on his end because even he realizes where I am coming from. So I send one back...harsher, but still with grace/maturity. And that was that.

And that was that. I am on talking terms with MagsBags...but distance. Distance Distance Distance.

That took a lot out of me. It's one after the other, but I still wake up in the mornings.

And now...I have this interview on Monday. I didn't know how much I wanted this job until I started thinking how I would react if I didn't get it.

Weight. Up and Down. I haven't been going to the gym as aggressively as I should, but I still look fine. Haven't been eating much though.

Not sure if it's the stress...but I can't hold food down anymore. I am always tense and on the edge.

But I am keeping my head up. I have to. The downside is too dark to contemplate.

That's it for now, but there's plenty more in the next week. Thank you for your continued interest in my blog dear readers. I have no one to talk to. I am alone and I am going through one of the toughest, if not the toughest, trial of my life thus far. I can't burden any of my friends with my problems and I can't put this on my parents. They will worry unnecessarily.

It's probably why I am still writing. It's just nice knowing that someone is reading this and commenting and well...cheering me on. I need support as much as I deny myself that luxury. The comments you folks write really do make me smile.

I keep asking myself if I have the strength to continue. But I just don't have a choice. I know what I want and I need to get it. This is a rough patch...and it will end. Hopefully.

Belle

alive

2010-12-03T11:06:00.000-08:00

i'm here.

Belle

Riding on Belief

2010-10-18T14:18:00.000-07:00

Hello Friends.

Stay strong. Be resilient. Have hope.

Very important these days to recite this over and over again.

The stress has definitely taken it's toll. My clothes are fitting properly again. All the dissertation weight gain has all but disappeared...and my face has become that much more defined.

Normally, this would be a good thing. But these days...the lack of spending power, the mounting anxieties and the lack of opportunities is really getting to me.

I have to have faith. I have to have hope. I just have to believe. Because that's all I got folks, that's all I got.

Stay tuned.

Belle

Return to Normalcy.

2010-10-07T14:16:00.000-07:00

Okay. Back on Track.

Momentary lapse there this afternoon.

Sorry. It's stress. It's tension. It's life.

I need a better handle on my life, but if you were to meet me in real life, well...I think you'd think everything was going just dandy at my end. Seriously.

Anyway. I am fine now. Well okay, as fine as anyone in my position can be. But still. I'm okay.

And I have three more banks I can apply to. So. There you go.

And...those numerical tests are important. Nevermind me and my rage.

Also- I wouldn't be surprised if many you DONT read through my posts seeing as I mostly whine, moan, and bitch here.

Thirdly. Thanks for sticking around anyway. In spite of the manic posts, and the annoying complaints and god only knows what else I write on here.

And commenting even! Seriously...what you guys put up with.

I will warn you. The episodic meltdowns will most likely continue. Because I can only do it here. Anonymously. Of course.

Anyway.

Belle

Lost and Confused

2010-10-07T04:23:00.000-07:00

You girls are so sweet, I'm not sure I even deserve your support.

It's fucking depressing at my end. It really is.

I took tests for bank of america, credit suisse, deutsche bank, and now...morgan stanley.

I am not sure what to do anymore.

Firstly, let's start with where I want to go.

In investment banking, there's two sides.

Side 1: Corporate Advisory. This is where bankers advise on how money should be raised to finance companies like Intel, Exxon-Mobil etc. It's called capital structuring. You can either do it through raising debt or through issuing equity (you buy portions of the company called "stocks" or "shares", where the company gets your money; in return you get ownership of this company- sometimes you get payments called dividends, but most of the time, the value of your stock depends on how well the company performs). It would be easier if you can use your own revenues, but when those aren't enough to take on large projects that would increase revenues in the future...well you go through debt/equity. So bankers, advise on how to do this. Another part of advisory is handling mergers and acquisitions- basically when companies want to join together, or when you want to buy another firm outright, or when you want to let go of a firm (divesting) etc. they seek bankers help because bankers can forecast the value of the merger/acquisition.

Side 2: Market Finance a.k.a global markets. This is buying and selling stocks or debt or foreign exchange currencies or commodities (oil, gas, soy beans, wheat, cocoa). This is where the term "buy low sell high" most applies as you make profit of the spread ((high-low) times quantity of money invested = profit (hopefully)). Trading is amazing. It's fast-paced, dynamic...and more importantly, it's fun to watch for areas where you can make money for yourself, the bank that employs you, and for people you are investing on behalf of. This requires constant vigilance on how news...any news really- politics, inflation, interest rates as these can affect how people buy and sell therein either increasing or decreasing the price of the product that's traded.

At least this is how I understand this.

So guess which I side I want to go into? Side 2.

Mostly male dominated as it requires really really good math skills. Which is why banks ask you to take numerical tests at the first stage of the application process.

It's here where I just completely utterly get demolished. I hate tests. I really do. I can do interviews, I can do real world, I just can't do tests.

So far, I have applied to several banks. Goldman Sachs has not replied. Nomura and Citi haven't replied either.

Credit Suisse, Deutsche Bank, Bank of America...I took tests for them, but haven't heard back.

UBS and Barclays Capital- took tests, but outright rejection with 24 hours.

Societe Generale (SocGen) and HSBC- rejection within 24 hours.

I have an undergraduate degree from a really good school in economics. I have a masters degree in a specialized finance subject from an even better school. I have a personality. I am funny. I have interests in art. I am intelligent. I am nice. I cope well with stress.

And yet. here I am. Rejected because God Forbid, I would lose thousands of dollars simply because I can't do these tests.

And then everyone says...well you have the academic background so you should do well.

why yes, i do have the academic background. well spotted.

so i don't know anymore. I am just really disappointed, and just frustrated. irritated. because i finally know where I want to go, but am doubting my abilities. once again.

it just seems so much easier for everyone else.

everyone else has smart guys writing their tests for them. i don't. i am actually doing these by myself, but maybe I should cheat to get ahead?

everyone else has someone to support them. boyfriends, girlfriends, parents etc.

my parents say they are supportive, but with an ocean separating us...really, that doesn't count for much. and they will stress more than i do, which will make me stress unnecessarily.

the only emails in my inbox are rejections or expired requests to take the tests. which i have already taken.

i just dont know anymore. what is my education worth? what is my one page CV worth? what are the hours spent starving to maintain skinniness whilst studying for tough quant subjects worth? what is this all worth?

you mentioned how this all seems complicated/complex. it's really not. believe me. twenty years ago, any girl/guy could go and trade. meaning people like you and me would not have needed degrees to do this. today, with systems making it more complex they need quants (quantitative minded people) working these tables, but experience over the last two years would suggest that even these guys got it wrong. way wrong.

this is turning into a nightmare. a living, breathing nightmare. i just dont know where to go from here. i really dont.

i pray everyday. i really do. because i have this vision of where i want to be, but i just cant seem to catch a break.

this year, i feel like my life is in havoc. every facet of my life...career, education, love life, family, friends...they have all just plummeted. i mean you all have read my posts since january. it's been non stop and it should make me more resilient but how much can the heart handle? just how much?

if there is one area of success i want, it's definitely in career. i just dont know anymore kids, i really don't.

belle

Tuesdays with Geeks

2010-10-05T06:57:00.000-07:00

Greetings...again.

So my astrological forecasts say that this week...nay this month should be good in terms of career opportunities.

Well if they're anything like my lunch appointment with one of my professors, well I might as well move to amsterdam and take refuge in the red light district.

...a tad dramatic, but hey. embellishments or not, it really felt slightly strange.

before we get into the details. lets talk about the setting. it's this swanky, yuppie lunch place right by the university and i was totally not dressed the part (ie no stuffy suits, try worn out shirt, faded jeans, new look elf booties and frizzy hair. especially the frizzy hair). however, my rather collegiate attire answered the questionable looks, especially since I swiftly took my pencil and book as soon as we sat.

i am a student. wanting answers. from my professor. this is nothing else.

my prof is eccentric. quirky. didn't realllly help much as the info he gave i already knew. suggested i look into private wealth management instead of trading.

private wealth is basically financial management for multi millionaires of this world. not just the rich, but the uber i-can-buy-an-island-and-give-it-to-my-shoe-shiner rich.

you see alot of attractive woman in this field. because men, especially rich men, are like fleas to the light when it comes attractive women.

so yea. i was told to go and do this.
complete silence from my end.

then it was....why not try middle office?

again. my silence gave it away.

finally after 45 minutes....so you want to be in front office trading. got it.

finally.

then the discussion started. 1.5 hours, and half way through i managed to get this guy to discuss industry prospects. rates? credit? forex? commodities? equities? which which which?

in the end, a couple good pointers...go towards rates, it's easier than credit. gee, thanks.

well. really, he has a point. my academic marks suggest anything but smart. more like lazy-heartbroken-lovesick-pathetic 23 yo with no plans for the future and is fucking about doing nothing but staring at photos of a loser russian.

still. no idea.

and i love how every single person goees..."this is the best time in your life. transitioning! you are so free and flexible to (blah)...(more blah)...(and even more blah)....(okay, really.. what the other would have done in my shoes)"

he didn't pass on my cv. it's fine because my lack of quantitative stuff would have put him in quite the dilemma.

and then add in some interesting details of yet another prof who you admire...in that he loves certain type of woman though the man is married with kids...

and there you have it. my career talk on trading.

i also got some free advice on how i should eat to have energy.

after practically forcing me to have bread (i avoided the butter)

he didn't notice that i ordered soup as a my main. he was on the phone.

and then he asked towards lunch...if i was on a diet.

ha ha ha. if only you knew.

talk on singapore. how cool singapore is. and then the finale:

"you know, there is a study that suggest people who graduate during a crisis don't fare too well in banking"

gee...thanks. i feel so much better already.

Belle

Eyeing Mecca

2010-10-04T06:17:00.000-07:00

Greetings.

One month and four days into unemployment.

Lord only knows how many applications have been sent, how many cover letters I have botched, and how many CV's I have exaggerated.

Lord only knows.

Trading. I need to find my way to the trading floor.

So much so that this month, money has been redirected to tube fares...not that tube fares are actually costing much these days since strikes happen nearly every day now. if not that then some important line (cough cough victoria cough cough) is closed or under renovation or simply nonexistent.

anyway. money has been redirected to other areas leaving the food bill...to a whopping 10-13 pounds/week.

i know. that's an achievement. i live on canned beans. and houmous.

i live on carbs.

and i have lost weight. alot of it. i wore a coat that use to be tight around the waist...key word used to. i love when i go to button that i feel like there's room for me to "fill into" the coat. that it's just too big for me. yea. love it.

anyway. stress is leading to starvation which is good.

practicing for my numerical tests...the first stage in the job app process. apparently, most people cheat and have some smart engineer do it for them. i am sitting these with a friend of mine who is okay at calculations but better at the understanding the questions. ofcourse, when you are in stress mode and theres 20 minutes on the clock to do 20 lengthy questions...you tend to misread whats being asked of you.

so yea. friend sitting next to me destresses my situation.

now i just hope i got through with these.

and i am always hungry. this is a good to be sure, but still. living on canned beans is fucking miserable. i can't even afford proper vegies because this country makes it too fucking expensive.

i am miserable. cold. hungry. tired. rejected. dejected.

and a million other things.

and it's only just begun.

this is really going to be a long journey to get to the trading floor.

if any of you are in london, look towards to the city today and pray for me. that place is quickly becoming my Mecca.

Belle

To Russia With...Indifference

2010-09-15T15:23:00.000-07:00

Comrade threw a soiree last Saturday evening. I dressed up in simple white dress, with black leggings...kept the jewelry simple, and made sure I absolutely looking spiffing.

Casual, but fabulous.

Russian was invited. I brushed off his invite with mere indifference, thinking he wouldn't go.

My, oh my, how wrong I was.

Within 5 minutes of entering, and exchanging pleasantries with comrade's girlfriend...I see his face.

He did a very obvious double take. When you look to the side, and then look again. Fuck you, I'm hot.

You know it.

I know it.

You know I know it.

I know that you know that I know that you know....

yea, you get the picture.

Offers me a mojito with far too much mint.

And so ladies...and gents...it becomes a cat and mouse game. I am doing my utmost to just simply avoid all contact with this tool, and for awhile, he is within eye range, and often...joining groups I am in. Fuck you.

Everytime he came, I had to top up.

I barely faced this kid, so much so I can't even remember what he looked like.

I haven't seen him since December 2009.

and I am hurt. and angry. and just so many other emotions coursing through my eyes, it took an entire hour and a few drinks to really relax.

i just feel cheap.

like fair enough, you found someone else. you broke up with her because she had to leave the country. and now what? I am your backup bitch and you are trying to get into my good graces. like seriously? me?

the part of me that missed seeing him...and that still wants something from him, is increasingly being overshadowed by the feeling of being discarded. cheapness. useless. a second-rate citizen.

i passed out at 1:30 in the morning. i slept on their balcony. i had a clear view of the city.

this boy will only hold me back. no respect. nothing. and i have goals now. i have vision of where i want to be. and he will only hinder my progress.

no. this time it will be different. i don't know if this chapter is closed because i will see him at parties, but i have changed.

no more of this nonsense. i am going investment banking, and that's really all there is to it.

and i am looking towards the east.

Belle Svelte

from russia with...what?

2010-09-02T12:31:00.000-07:00

Dissertation...Submitted.

Unemployment...Un-welcomed.

Me...Where am I going with my life?

Weight...let's not even broach this.

Wait, this is my weight blog. Shit.

I have gained massively, and have returned to gym aujourd'hui. Because, you know, something needs to be done about the thighs, the face, the boobs, the un-loved handles...and the butt.

job search and weight. those are my big targets.

so remember when i told you folks that the russian was out of the picture? i didn't actually say that did i? so i got over it. am well, as blah as can be as there are no new prospects on the horizon...only to see...

that russian decided to "like" one of my status updates. don't know what to say to this. wait, hold on. i do. fuck you. i'm over you. now go away and stay away.

seriously. what the FUCK? it's just so random. like who does he think he is? i know i am making a big deal about this, but you don't just randomly go post/poke/"like" on someone else's facebook without some hidden agenda behind it.

apparently, russian's hot serbian girlfriend's visa expired, and thus, she is no longer in this country. so what? now that thats over, you try and weazle your way into my good graces?

fuck you. i'm no backup bitch.

ugh, the more i think about his facebook "like" the more irritated i get.

perhaps i am thinking too much into this. what say you girlies? and guysies if there are guysies.

belle

oh man...

2010-08-23T16:08:00.001-07:00

I am so embarrassed to even post. But I have to.

I have gained god only knows how much weight. I have been eating. Left and right, just eating.

and I am bored.

...and lonely.

I have been lonely for a really long time.

lonely with four fat cheeks. god that sound so lame, it only works as a singles advert. fuck.

heading to the gym in the morning. and no more fucking chocolate.

Fucking Frenenemies

2010-08-16T14:33:00.000-07:00

Okay.

Mannequin sent me a message saying that he has next Monday off and he is "coming to see me one way or another"

howz about just stay the fuck away.

like honestly, you'd think not talking for since...i don't know, january might be a hint. you know when people don't text you back, cough russian cough, you realize he doesn't want you.

so i thought hey. i don't want to see you. or your girlfriend. especially together. now fuck off.

shit man. they know where i live. i am heading to the library all of next week. temporarily camping out because guess what i cant deal with them.

i mean really. take a hint guys.

ugh.

I HATE DISSERTATIONS.

and i hate that i am going nowhere with trading.

belle

blah

2010-08-10T10:06:00.001-07:00

So flatmate situation...resolved.

She is german. doing finance. and fucking thin. like stick thin. like size 0 for sure thin. like size 24 jeans thin.

she is thin.

and when she heard me and my job quest, she said she could use my tenacity as motivation. guess we both benefit. my career drive will push her and her skinniness will...

oh who am i kidding?

i have been at this for years.

she asked me if i had a boyfriend today.

i said no. every where i look, i see couples and sex.

well okay, i don't see sex literally...but suggestions of it.

i binged.

wonder if there is a correlation in there somewhere.

belle

ugh

2010-08-07T14:21:00.001-07:00

I have been eating. Alot. Fuck.

Fuck.

Currently debating about getting some cigs. cancer sticks. fuck.

fuck

belle

In the Trenches

2010-08-03T10:08:00.000-07:00

Right now, I am just trying to dodge the bullets.

Where do I even start?

So Angel showed much interest in moving in with me come September, only to have backed on mid July after months of asking her and her being "just keep the place for me". She says no and then tells me that she is traversing through the east...blahdiblahdiblah...

tell me in advance! seriously!

so then i try and find another roommate...yet another Russian, who tells me 99% sure that she will move in,

but come Sunday, August 1st when I was meant to tell my landlords.

lo and behold, even SHE says no.

so now i am left with a room that won't be mine come september, unless I magically...just MAGICALLY...find someone else who would want to be my roomate.

did I mention I have a dissertation due at the end of the month? well I do.

oh yes, and on the job front...nothing.

myriad of rejections, both official and unofficial...and still.

so lets do a summary shall we?

no job.

no room.

no words...

...for dissertation. for my current situation.

oh yes, and i definitely gained weight.

just throwing that in to show there's a gain in there somewhere. not exactly the one i was looking for.

i am actually surprisingly calm...placid even. i should be stressing, but somehow it's gotten to the stage where it's pointlessness.

i am just trying to dodge anymore surprises here.

the recent job app i sent (mind you these take awhile to write) came back as a rejection...this time, they were so lazy, they sent the same rejection email to everyone who got rejected. i dont know what's more insulting...have this done to you, or not receiving an official rejection at all.

fuck. fuck fuck.

add to that the stress of having potential tennants viewing the flat. there is a girl who is still deciding, and i have given her every reason in the world to stay with this flat.

fuck.

i bought that loaf of bread. make that two.

and then you view other people's lives...like comrades. his dad is buying him a flat. and when i ask what his budget was for food shopping...he replies "don't ask me that, i don't economize when it comes to food".

i am really really on edge right now. i mean, every says with my degree i should be able to land a job just fine...but the question is, can i land the job that will get me where i want to be?

i have already given up on the hope of landing that star trading job. there's no way i will get it without base level experience at other, less stellar places.

but even those, other, less stellar places are rejecting me because i don't have work experience/training at bigger banks.

bigger banks are rejecting me because i don't have work experience in the field. period.

you see how this argument is on a loop?

FUCK.

Belle

Dilemmas, Dilemmas

2010-07-31T10:43:00.001-07:00

So. I am at an interesting cross roads.

Weight. or Career?

To a normal person, this wouldn't even be a question to ponder over...let alone waste hours on end wondering if it's worth sacrificing weight for career...but for belle svelte, it's a question that needs to be faced full on.

Should I pick career, I need to start eating more. There is just no way, no way I can maintain starvation/obsessive gym habits and have the energy to THINK whilst practicing for those numerical tests. I know you guys know that feeling of breathing in air to trick the tummy into feeling fuller, but let me tell you...5:30-6ish in the library, my head starts hurting and I just can't think. I can't think. I can't understand simple problems...it's just. fruitless. I need to think. I need to analyze. I need energy.

I just can't do it anymore. I guess...yet again, I am giving up.

I am happy with my body? No. I doubt that will ever happen. Ever.

Will I start eating crap food? oh fuck no. I am sticking to spinach, edamame, beans...fruit etc. This is my lifestyle. Natural foods.

I ate cereal today. Seeing as it's saturday, and my legs are absolutely screaming in pain (major major gym sesh yesterday. burned only 600 cals but lord, 50 lunges AND squats...EACH). what cereal? Krave...man I feel sick. never doing that again.

Will I stop blogging? No. But the momentum has shifted over the course of two years...I think this is more of a diary about my life, my struggle with weight and food, and the ways I circumvent suspicion...and ofcourse, bitching about every one. the latter being my favorite.

But I need to start eating more. and I am shit scared about the weight gain. still contemplating to bread it or not. i mean, i eat couscous more often than not...and beans are carbs...

So I guess I will forever be teetering on size 4 to 6...

sad day indeed.

belle

On Goals

2010-07-24T11:13:00.000-07:00

Hello.

Back again.

This is what happens when you have readings to do for a 10,000 word thesis you don't really want to write. or read for.

So I was browsing facebook, and randomly fell on the profile of Mr. Diplomat, yet another German to add my list of guys who for some reason, just don't call back.

After exams, I ended up watching the USA v. Ghana game with him and his buddies at Texas Embassy by Trafalgar Square. Not a bad place I'd say, I managed to make a guy drop his plates when he first saw me. Ha Ha. Sorry, moments like these shouldn't make all giddy, but I can't help it. It's just...very reaffirming.

Anyway. It was an awesome evening though USA lost. I was chatting away with Mr. Diplomat about him...his life...and what not. We ended up going to this bar that's essentially an alcoholic version of GLEE. Now I like Glee, but drunken flamboyant overgrown show choir singers enthusiastically playing tune after tune...after tune...ever so loudly...well...it gets to be too much. Furthermore, we joined up with some alumni from my alma mater-- really posh ones whom I instantly recognized and mentally laughed at the coincidence of it all. Normally, had this been my elite, hierarchical undergraduate campus I would have had to either (A) be on the guest list or (b) be publically humiliated by a student bouncer asking who I knew at the party or (c) all of the above....

....

instead. here i was. an equal. it was odd.

what was more odd, was the guy who i recognized, who would not have noticed me in my college days...actually flirted with me. ha. ha. ha.

wow.

so anyway. weird turn of events. night ended and at 2'0 clock decided to part ways with Mr. Diplomat. I thought he would walk me home.

He didn't. He just said bye. After what...nearly 6 hours of chatting. Just walk me home. Nothing else. We live in the same direction anyway.

He said he would call the next day for the Germany-England game.

Since then...no calls. Nothing.

Sorry, I am just really annoyed.

I am getting the feeling that my desire...nay sheer want now to become a trader is isolating me from the world.

I cant help it. I want what I want.

I always used to think this was a guy's job. That I can't handle it.

You know what. Fuck it.

I want to do this.

The guy downstairs, Mr. Law who I know likes me...basically told me to go into consulting instead. I don't get it. Why is it that all these males just can't deal with me moving in this direction? Why?

I am getting more and more annoyed now. I guess I am not meant for relationships or boyfriends or anything of that sort.

Fuck everyone. The sad part is, I caught the eye of an incredibly cute guy who basically moved across the room at Texas Embassy to be near me. Of course, it would have been rude to talk to him in front of Mr. Diplomat. So I didn't.

Missed opportunity.

I don't even have money to go out.

UGHHHHH.

So when I see people holding hands and stuff...I just sigh and think...you have a goal. you need to become a trader.

belle.

Clouds of Doubt

2010-07-22T08:50:00.000-07:00

Bottles of wine consumed hier soir with seven people.

That's a bottle each.

I was fucked off my face, stumbled my way out of St. Johns Wood, and to put a pretty cherry on top of this wonderful cocktail...

I actually got into a minor "debate" with the cabby about the legitamacy of the Cypriatic independence. Hence the tipping. Nice chap that one, but sir, walls may be broken but animosity still exists.

So yea. Dinner at Sofra, drinks at chez Mrs. Spontaneous'...with bulldog, k-san, and surprise surprise, Adonis.

Yup, Adonis. To my new readers, check the Sept/Oct posts...he was my first crush after returning to London only to be disgusted by his choice in woman. Actually, I went to HIS party Sunday evening where I met his cute cute german friend, Mr. AM. Another drunken evening where I proceeded to misplace my favorite ring that I bought when I was in Adonis' hometown a couple years ago. Okay screw it. I was in Prague. Vintage ring. It's kinda my thing.

Anyway. Over the last couple weeks, it seems like things between Adonis and I have gotten to a chummy chum chum state. Platonic ofcourse, but the man is right royal MALE. Cars, girls, booze....with a touch of European pizzazz finished off with French classiness. You'd think he was a sleazeball, but actually, quite the contrary. Family man. Off every weekend to some family event or wedding or whatever. Anyway.

He's working front office...fixed income sales at a major investment bank. I am envious...trading floor, all the energy, excitement...but then when you hear the guy speak of his wine import/export business and his transatlantic adventures (nay mishaps is more like it), it makes me wonder. What the hell have I been doing with my life? Makes me feel like I haven't lived. at all.

So last night was his night. Settling miscommunications at dinner, negotiating for better bottles of wine at cheaper prices, waxing nostalgic about his business dealings with czech politicians...all in all he is the big man. and was supposed to bring Mr. AM to the soiree but apparently mergers and acquisitions is already taking its toll. the guy has homework. and then i realized something.

Mr. AM will have no time for a social life. These guys go 30-72 hrs at a time during major deals which happens more often than one likes to admit. They have BEDS at these places for mini naps.

I pick them well don't I?

i wish my life was cooler. i wish i had something speak for. i wish to not be so boring. i wish...to have the thrill that Adonis is having. you can hear it in his voice. the confidence of knowing that he has entered a top job at a top bank. it's like getting into the ivy league. just once, i want to know what it feels like to get into something you've always wanted. what's it like to achieve your goals?

And then you hear stories of russians helping each other get interviews at major investment banks. used to be one of the Russian's ex from cambridge. anyway. she studied LANGUAGES and gets into proper Ibanking through connections. how. how. HOW?

Let's just say that I am irritated. I am properly applying, redoing that resume, getting in touch with profs, industry professionals in energy trading all the while praying my ass off asking god to somehow get me out of this funk.

when everyone is working and you're still dancing with unemployment...

it's just not poetic. it's pathetic.

and then I applied for this fund management position in Zurich. i would have to assuage the egos of UHNW. don't get the acrnoym? ULTRA high net worth individuals. apparently, being high is not enough, adding ultra just makes it that much more accessible. haha. anyway.it smells fishy. why? because there's a stench of escort-ism in the air.

but anyway. more meetings with academics discussing energy market dynamics...pure theoreticals this friday. monday, meeting with a carbon guy with commodities market experience of read...20 years. fuck me. i got to him through a visiting lecturer who wrote the exam question i liked answering so very much. he invited me to discuss how energy trading works...because apparently...

emails are enough to answer all my questions, diagrams charts and PIXIE DUST will only begin to color the oil...painting. pardon the pun. oh man. energy.

it's not like fixed income (bonds) or equity (companies) where items traded are intangible. commodities...nay energy is essentially bartering physical assets. sugar. steel. iron. minerals. and my favorite. energy. and not just bartering, figuring out delivery/storage. trading, macroeconomics AND supply chain management knowledge. shit monkeys. falling in love.

actually. there are so many skills sets needed. knowledge of the product- chemistry background. knowledge of the markets. industrial economics for competitive behavior. macroeconomics to check for systemic risk/linkages between countries. and dear LORD awhole HOST more things.

oh man. oh man. oh man.

energy. trading. is. the. new. black.

also. food. haven't eaten much. surviving on two meals a day. around 500 cals for lunch, 2 cups of coffee in the morning, and a small salad at night. with another coffee in between. all in all a little less than 1000 calories.

i find that on days i don't go to the gym, i can eat less and get away with it. on days i do go, sadly i have to eat a bit more so that i can actually you know...READ. but yea, gradually decreasing food. starting with breakfast. no more mochas just plain coffee with 1/2 tsp of sugar.

upping cal burn at the gym to 650 cardio with around 200 stretches.

i think my body's adjusted to this. hence why i don't lose weight anymore. FUCKKKKKK.

on grades. adonis has similar grades in shared classes. but Prince Akeem, who is set on world domination, has an ego that puts the size of my ass to shame (well, i suppose it's nice knowing that something else is larger than my ass...it's all relative)...has three top marks so far. i am walking away with barely passable grades (if you can even call them that really), and him and his complicated "friend" have merits and distinctions. comrade didn't bother trying but still managed merits. where i got passes, he got merits.

fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck.

fuck.

useless.

prince akeem has the job i want. trading. at one of the best banks in the world.

there are HARDLY any female traders. at most sales, but rarely do you see the XX genese in trading.

i have doubts.

will i get what i want?

belle

Marking my Year

2010-07-20T02:09:00.000-07:00

46. 50. 51. 52. 70.

F. P. P. P. D.

what does that mean?

My scores from this year.

Clearly having issues with russians*, "friends", flatmates, parents, and food, does not bode well for exam marks.

I just have to get a high Pass/Merit on my dissertation and I will graduate with a Pass from one of the best universities in the world. Go me.

Woot.

Oh and one more thing.

Failing/passing exams is no measure of one's potential, motivation, and sheer drive. If I wake up one more day thinking I can't do it, then I really have failed.

So now...it's test of character. Can I continue progressing in spite of poor results? Je ne sais pas.

I went to a friends party two nights ago, stumbled into my flat with a dear dear friend, mrs. spontaneous. Totally fun, and met a super cute German kid I will call Mr. AM...since he does mergers/acquistions at a major city bank. I thought we hit it off well, but this time, if he wants to pursue me, he knows how to find me. I'm a girl after all.

Secondly.

Russian, apparently, has a girlfriend. Since March. That explains the 3 of swords and 8 of cups in my tarot readings with regard to this kid. I stalked her on facebook, surprise surprise.

My Stats:

6/10- pretty scale.
9/10- height
10/10- legs.
8.5/10- boobs.

personality? no idea. but judging by the 92 photo albums ms. serbian has of herself exposing her, her long lean legs, and her vanity, i'd say...

-million/10- personality.

apparently, eastern european woman pose like none other. i even checked out russian facebook for proof of the general cultural desire to have no sense of shame whatsoever. oh brother.

vainglorious. that's all i have to say.

i'm sure that's not true for many easterners...but for the most part, it's like watching camera stills of soft core porn, circa 1995.

oh dear me.

i don't know if i should feel insulted for yet another guy picking a tall, thin modelesque brunette or if I should feel complimented that someone so shallow did not find me good enough.

whatever the case, i'm over you russian. this time, for reals.

i found myself a yummy german instead.

love.

belle.

Ps: beans i eat- lima and kidney. cheapest.
PPs: thanks for reading. it means alot to me!

86. more like 100.

2010-07-09T11:07:00.001-07:00

BEANS.

OPEN. DRAIN. EAT.

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY.

IT'S CHEAP.

oh dear. back to my pure food ways. this time, at little less than a pound a day, I am feeding off of beans. protein. carbs. all good things. and it's safe. and it bloats me. and i don't eat junk. and i live. and i think. and i just don't have to worry.

that's one last thing i need to worry about. food.

over the russian. now i just to find a way to not think about him.

i am alive.

it's 86 in the city, but it might as feel like 100. and i feel like a tub of lard.

fat.

summer.

beans.

cheapness.

no money.

have a dream.

staying up till god knows when to finish applications.

yea dahling. c'est la vie.

will update more. boy stories.

ugh.

belle

Stray Kitty

2010-06-12T08:13:00.000-07:00

Okay, yesterday was only the appetizer. Today's the main course. Yea, take that for size my food hating dainty little munchkins. It better be enough to fill your teeny tiny tummies.

Anyway. I think I have my groove back after months of lulling about life dealing with la mere, le crazy german, et le stupid russian. This week, I've tasted sunshine and boy was it rejuvenating. Thirst quenching. As thirst quenching liquid hot molten lava can get. Ha Ha Ha.

My flatmate and I are in a tense, cold war situation at the mo. I dropped the ball on cleaning, and apparently, I shut my door too loudly at night. It's exams, we're stressed. Apparently, she doesn't stress and she doesn't suddenly inherit a selfish attitude towards life...which is why when she wanted the flat clean on her terms, when she wasn't busy after nearly two weeks of doing nothing, I had to suddenly drop my books, clear my tables to acquiesce her request.

So I didn't do anything. When she's busy, the flat is goes from super clean to clean and back to super clean as I realize, she's busy and I have time so I can chip in. But when she's not busy, and I'm busy, I have to suddenly live by her schedule.

So I didn't do anything when she asked me last Sunday. Thursday morning, day before my exam, she calls me self centered for not obeying her order. Does anyone else see a paradox here or is that just me? Yea, that's what I thought. So I told her I could clean...albeit on my schedule, and that she needs to deal with it. I don't know what's made me more mad....the fact that she thinks I don't do anything, or that I don't live by her schedule, or that she decided to call me out the day before my toughest exam...knowing that I had a tough exam. Telling someone that they don't clean is one thing, telling someone they are self centered...entirely different story.

I am having a chat with her when exams are over. That really pushed the line for me.

Okay, in other news.

Carbon finance. One of the questions I had to speed write, like so fast that I could feel my wrists getting tinier, dealt with emissions reduction regulation and the corresponding affects on asset prices. To keep this simple, it's connecting various emissions credit schemes and seeing how that might change in the future, taking future benefits/alternative energy sources into account and discounting all of that...to represent future costs/benefits in present values (the only way to compare things really)...and then evaluating those on business strategy, and how that might reflect on share price...and as added bonus, what would I do as a trader? go long? short? construct a hedged portfolio?

yea. sorry. my tid bit of four weeks of non stopping studying. okay nonstop with stress relieving dance parties in my room and steaming hot fantasies...about the russian. who else? those need to stop. now.

anyway, point is...corporate finance/m&a sector is not really hiring, so i maybe venturing into market finance with specialization in carbon markets.

i told this to comrade. just to throw a bone and see what he says. nothing. a couple days after i mentioned this, he said he found the "perfect job"....akin to doing middle/back office work at a british fashion house. now i like fashion, clothes, pretty shoes and earrings. i also like power suits, clickety stilettos, and leather whips to bring them boys in line. basically, i can handle the boys world. girls are bitchier anyway.

so why did he suggest this? my guess, especially from the way he treats his girlfriend, is that it's male ego. ever present, age old, male domination sensation that one gets in his pants. in that swift moment, i knew he thought I was becoming too ambitious . so what? look, i'm not in this for money or power anymore...that gets you somewhere tomorrow, but I want something that will satisfy my intellectual hunger. so i don't have balls...it's not like i cant get some. geez, i think i have more than most men in this world given what i've had to stomach over the last decade.

ugh. men. either step aside or become collateral damage.

i guess i am really tired of people holding me back. parents, family, "friends" (cough mannequin, whom i have spoken to in well over 5 five months).

ever since i've written off la mere from my life, maintaining a physical and mental distance from that cesspool of hate and envy, I've had time to learn about myself.

here's what I have so far.

I've hated myself for a very long time. I probably will continue to do so, but I know when people look at me...they think I'm fun. smart. pretty. attractive. loveable. i am many awful things as well...like how i hide in my tortoise shell and scheme/seethe in anger plotting my next resurgence...which is what is happening now. my lack of sociability-ness in the last term has signalled my "serious" factor...and that has left people like annoying judgemental asian and prince akeem stunned. apparently, prince akeem goes around telling everyone about his future plans of world domination (seriously, no joke on this one!) without having actually returned to his homeland in well over five years. he does this with everyone...except for me. the buck stops at me apparently. why? because he knows i see through his insecurities like a two way mirror.

anyway. back to the point. i've gone through...kind of a internal metamorphosis in the last half year. perspectives have definitely changed. working my on self esteem, confidence, self respect...and realizing that while i am a cool person. i have my head on straight and only ask for respect/kindness in return. if i don't get it, i'm moving on. hence why I fantasize about the russian so much. yea, i'm a work in progress.

my attitude towards food has become...well...just eat salads, and if you must have chocolate, eat the purest/freshest underlying and subsequent derivatives...no preservatives whatsoever. ruling it out makes for interesting binge episodes.

essentialy. coffee, tea and spinach are the order of the day. a few seeds, avocados on occasion, cherry tomatoes, some (2-3) potato chips for crunch...and there you have it. my daily meal plan. so much so when i eat real food with friends...i actually have to come home to sleep it off. it's too much. 400+ calories in one sitting might as well be thanksgiving dinner. i am out like a baby for atleast 2 hours.

i honestly 't know how much i'm consuming and my stomach seems to get full faster than ever before...like that uncomfortable, oh my god roll me down the hill kind of fullness. disgusting. and it happens when i have carbs. yea, carbs suck. they make you sleepy.

one more exam. just one more. and then i'll splurge on career in more detail and how much...new alliances are helping me out with my um, future plans.

i don't have a single penny to my name. just 45 grand in student loans, an enviable wardrobe, some dry wit and sweet charm...

and an idea that's all my own.

my thoughts. my dreams...my life. it's all mine. i have full ownership of it.

how...thrilling! with the future riddled with uncertainty, i'm jumping off the cliff. i can't stay on the edge, waiting for that wind to push me off, i might as well just go on and take a giant leap of faith. after years of observing two varied cultures...trying to reconcile the growing duality, i am giving up to find myself. who cares anymore? i am of no culture and of no country. i am ****a, and i want to live my life on my own terms.

the worlds turning my friends...so better grab that bike and go against the wind!

makes for a crazy head spin don't you think?

belle svelte

Carbon

2010-06-11T15:59:00.000-07:00

I fit into my Paige Premiums size 26. Not a comfortable fit, but I still fit in. That's a size 2 folks, a size 2. What can I say? Obsession breeds creativity.

So I am still in the midst of exams, and spent the last three weeks commiserating the fail and/or bad fail of all but one exam. Fuck. Shit. Oh well. That's life.

I also have one word for you folks: carbon.

As I was writing an exam for my main course, one of the questions really peaked my interest. It was actually fun writing out the answer as it was applied theory as opposed to just simple regurgitation. Really, it started from there.

Two weeks later, bada bing bada boom. Spent 90 odd pounds going to this lecture on a career based around this question based around aforementioned word.

Ofcourse, I mention this to Comrade...and well, stay tuned for the next post to find out his response. Typical Russian, what do you expect eh?

Anyway, just wanted to let you punks know that I am alive and well...barely, but still there.

Cheers bitches.

Belle

Opportunity Costs

2010-05-31T12:53:00.001-07:00

Earlier today, I get a random message from an old flame. I was too scared and too self-loathing a few years ago to recognize that this boy liked me enough to look past my flaws. I was just too scared.

He is, sorry was, in London. Messaged me as he walked by my campus and said he thought of me.

I had the opportunity to go meet him. I had the chance to reconnect with someone I liked and well, still have a soft spot for.

Except for exams.

And, that...dear readers, is my excuse. It was my excuse back then, and it's my excuse now. In reality, I didn't meet him because I felt I gained too much weight to wear anything cute.

Fuck. Nothing's changed.

May's End

2010-05-30T07:01:00.000-07:00

Worst week of exams...over. Three still to go, and it's far too sunny to be cooped inside.

Gained weight. Totally feel it, and haven't been to gym in over two weeks. Returning from having chocolate something everyday (!!!!!) and back to salads.

So I get really sleepy when I have far too much carbohydrates. Not cool at all. Minimizing carb intake because it makes me groggy and bloated and all those things.

Did I mention that I've gained weight? I've gained weight.

After this Friday, I am returning to the gym and running my heart out.

In other news...after five-six months of toying with the idea, I think my mother was emotionally abusive...for the last 10-15 years. There moments where she was "loving"....but I those were few and far between.

It's just too much when you start reading articles and check off every single sign...and symptom.

What now? I am tired of being angry...and oddly enough, emotionally detached from the world.

I am seeing a counselor this week.

I just want to forgive...and then never speak to her again. I am really exhausted and tired.

And by moving on, I mean actively seeking out this German kid I was talking about a few posts ago. The international diplomacy one (not the crazy German)...who seems interested. He's invited to a few parties after exams and I'm excited at this new possibility. It's time to let people in....i may not be perfect, but then again, what is perfect?

Belle

FML

2010-05-15T02:31:00.001-07:00

Now multiply by 6....in less than a week. FML.

Liquidity Crisis

2010-05-07T15:37:00.000-07:00

So, my bank sends me weekly alerts regarding the state of my financial position. It's pointless really, considering that there is a severe credit crunch occuring in my world. Liquidity crisis at 0.31 cents. UK cents. So around 50 american cents. Kind of pointless converting, seeing as I am now a beggar. Proper poverty.

Of course, dad's plastic is really the saving grace at the moment, seeing as even an ano (apparently, short for anorexic) would need atleast 10 pounds weekly to survive in this city. Atleast.

Which is why I need a job.

I guess around the time the volcano hit, I had a personal underwater volcano erupting. I am entering the world of indepedance, of grow-up-ti-tude and I need to embrace the coming responsibilities. As in, take any fucking job that comes your way.

And at 0.31 cents in the bank, I need to start looking elsewhere.

But for some reason, I am welcoming this "throw your resume into the gauntlet, and see where it gets you".

I think the whole the Russian, mom, crazy german thing during the last few months has left me in a state of turmoil...from which I am finally get out of. It's been nearly a month since I've returned and thanks to a virus that's kicking me off of skype, I don't have to call the parentals. And believe, I don't want to. Apparently, la mere is worried that I haven't called. Why? So that you can lash at me every which way? Yea fucking right.

So I've returned to what I know best: gyming and food. Finally regained some sense of normalcy in my world, stopped eating massive loads of nuts in attempt to be healthy and am actually living on spinach. Okay spinach with a few nuts and a dash of dressing, but still. Salads are the way of the future. I'm telling you.

Combined with 300+ reps of various ab crunching routines and atleast 600 hard cardio...well. You get the picture. Ofcourse, my exam prep has not come under way, with four incredibly tough quant based exams coming first. Oh who am I kidding? They're all quant based, and here I am watching Maid in Manhattan, brazenly following the ever exciting British elections (lib dems, just side with the conservatives and we'll call it a week shall we? now where's the tea), and just puffed a smoke after four days of staying away. Trust me, I have my habits under control. Smoking has lost it's pleasure but I will be seeing this pack through. Seven more to go. Fuuuuck.

I have a strange feeling the Russian be entering the picture in a couple of months. Comrade has been mentioning him far too many times and it almost seems as if he's becoming his friend's mouthpiece. I am merely a text away, an FB message away you idiot, you want to talk to me, just talk to me. This time, if I am correct, it's going to be different. Confidence, and self-respect are the name of the game, and I will not let this boy take me for a ride. No no no no.

Seriously folks, an oxbridge degree doesn't shield one from being a total moron. Ugh. Boys. They suck.

In return for carrying his B/N digital reader thing, Comrade brought me chocolate that was meant to taste like pot. It was nice. He has a girlfriend. Must. not. fall. for. him.

Why are my posts becoming so mundane? It's because I have no life outside this living room.

And that's my weekly update.

Cheers bitches.

Belle

Swimming

2010-04-29T03:12:00.001-07:00

Do you ever wake up and feel like you’re still dreaming?

Something’s strange. I feel off. For some reason, it seems like the world is turning and I’m just moving…

People are coming and people are going, and I’m still static. Emotionless even. Hollow.

Nothing really matters anymore, but I keep going. Aimlessly wandering the winding streets of London.

Sorry for the general emo-ness of this post, but I really do feel like something is off with me. Like I’m part of this world, but for some reason, I’ve mentally checked out.

I smoked again yesterday, but even that lost it’s glamour…

See? I told you. Something is off.

What on earth is going on?

There are moments when I feel like something much bigger than me, an overarching force is pushing me along in a direction I do not know…it’s like I’m finally, after years of controlling everything…I’m just letting go.

Hands off the strings and just gliding with the eb and flow of life. I really feel like I’ve lost control, and there is no desire to regain it.

Just swimming really.

But yea. I feel like something big is coming my way, but can’t quite figure out what it is. Like I meant to do something in the near future, and the path is being illuminated just as I take the next step…but the fog is too dense to see what’s ahead of me. It’s a feeling. An instinct.

And I never doubt my instincts.

I went to dinner with Comrade last night, after a surprisingly easy day of group work. The others actually contributed, but I have a feeling Comrade may have had something to do with that. Dinner with him was nice, as always. Seeing as I am broke once again, he paid…with me promising to pay him back. Salad at Strada. How sweet. For some reason, I feel like he knows something’s off with me, and is his cute way, trying to cheer me up with nonsensical stories from Oxbridge.

Cuter than ever that one. With impeccable manners and dignity. Fuck.

Of course, it is officially strange how he keeps offhandedly mentioning Roman in his stories. All in a good light might I add. It’s either how the Russian took tough classes at Oxbridge or how the Russian is that or the Russian is this or when the Russian is coming...not too often, but just regular enough for me to think that something odd is going on.

Or I’m just making an issue out of nothing. That’s usually the case anyway.

Belle

stalking

2010-04-25T14:10:00.000-07:00

someone needs to shoot me now.

i have weeks till my first exam, and here i am wasting time by writing this, skimming the russian's facebook profile (someone wrote on his wall. apparently, either he is going somewhere in this weekend or is being visited by someone in this weekend). fuck. i am a stalker.

no really, i am. i just went through all of his posts (i mean all!) just to see convos with his ex-girlfriend. OMGOD I AM STALKER.

someone needs to beat it into me that this boy is not interested in me. that i need to move on. that i need to not smoke to get over this.

i have walking around the house listening to music fantasizing about him. f. u. c. k.

why oh why do i do this to myself?

tomorrow, i am out of the house. i am actually out of the house. i can't be here. i just can't. thankfully, i get my loans so i HAVE to be on campus and I have to clear them because yours truly is out of money...once again.

why is there always a credit crunch in belle's world? why?

i can't smoke either. it's been three weeks since my one cigarette that i had after four days of having another cig after i found out the russian was in town...and didn't call. fuck you russian.

oh come on, what did i do? seriously what?

oh look, i smell desperation and it's wafting from...me!

i guess i just want to know what i did that turned him away.

you know, for future reference.

but then again, people should like me...for me.

am i seeking approval again?

fuck.

ugh. i'll probably update this post.

belle

Volcanic Epiphanies

2010-04-25T02:04:00.000-07:00

Nearly a month ago I was flying over Iceland...gazing at the beautiful, placid ice sheets thinking...

how on earth can this little country affect the world?

ha ha ha. the joke is on all of us.

*please be warned that this will be a long long LOOOONG post about family, because, well, this is my pensieve and i really REALLY need to relieve these thoughts in order to study/focus better*

these last four months have been rather quiet, with internal change really marking the hour. being reflective is the operatus modi, and by golly, have i really really absorbed it like a sponge. i realize i have been going about my new diet, and my lifestyle, but i doubt i actually delved into why i needed this sudden, almost explosive change...

as many of you may have surmised, i had a brief sojourn in california a couple of weeks ago...and it was...well...interesting.

for the first time, i noticed how not normal life is back there with the parentals. the family. the culture. it was like stepping into an extremely small, confined box...but knowing that I was stepping into said small, confined box. see, the difference this time was that I went back knowing it wasn't "home" anymore...rather, just another place to hang out and "relax". family...it's not home anymore.

it's not home when i constantly worry about what la mere will say in the first five minutes of meeting her. it's not home when every conversation with her is like walking on egg shells. it's not home anymore when in spring, when the ice is supposedly melting...i'm still walking on it trying to avoid any cracks...

first it was my weight. then it was my personality. then it was my skin color. then it's why i don't have a boyfriend.

my mother. my very unhappy, depressed, repressed mother. the one person in the world you are meant to trust...is the one person i can't talk to about anything. i fear how she will use my words against me and worse yet, i fear how i will react to said words. i thought i built a shield...i really did. when she started wondering out loud as to why i didn't have a boyfriend...here's what she said:

"you don't have a boyfriend because you hang out with really pretty, beautiful girls. if you hung out with ugly girls, you might have a chance"

had this been a year ago, i would have actually believed her. wait hold on, i did believe her for the last 22 years. I mean, what gives? Every conversation…heck every five minutes, the dialogue or rather, monologue was about beauty and thinness. That’s it. Nothing else. It actually got frustrating at one point when all la mere could talk about is how unmatched couples on Platinum Weddings were based solely on their looks. Come on. There’s more to life that just the externals…people need to be compatible on a more intimate level. Not just sexually, but mentally as well.

Of course, now, if I disagree with her…which I started doing after like 24 hours of hearing non-stop diatribes on how family members were gaining weight and how beauty is tantamount to well, life, la mere plays the victim card. She gets quiet and pretends to be the meek one to make me feel guilty for what I said. Not happening this time, I know better. I think she understood that the day I left.

I told her about the Russian accidentally last December, and since then outright lied to her saying that I have lost contact with him. That’s how this whole boyfriend thing came about. She knows it upsets me a little to talk about it, and that’s why she never fails to mention him. The woman is not only a master manipulator and a great victim-card player, but also knows how to pour acid on sensitive spots. She is excellent at massaging salt onto open wounds…she will tear open the bandage if she has too, but she takes pleasure in doing this. In her unhappiness, she takes pleasure in my pain. Schadenfreude.

It’s okay for to criticize everyone…especially her own daughter. But when the tables are turned, la mere starts, again, acting cute and childish in order to regain control/power of the situation by downplaying the seriousness of any serious allegations directed to her. This only with me, and my God it’s frustrating. See, the moment I landed…apparently, I lost weight but I am not thin. Thanks. I usually act like a kid because well, you would think that closeness would allow that kind of behavior…but apparently, I need to start acting “mature”. Like a 23-year-old. See normally, I’m pretty good with critique, especially constructive criticism…but when the only thing I hear from la mere is JUST negative comments that aren’t just critique’s but insults disguised as jokes…I take it personally. So now, it’s not just my looks…it’s also my personality. When I called her out on this, but openly asking her what a person my age should act like, she couldn’t answer. Fair enough, you tell me this but starting acting immature yourself.

I thought the matter was dropped. But everytime I talked to her, it came back to beauty, thinness, and my maturity level. Every fucking conversation. But then with another, very familiar but very annoying twist: If I tried to be mature with her, and attempted a serious, adult like conversation to tell her I don’t appreciate being told off constantly about my “weaknesses” to put it mildly or that I can take criticism but the “insults and the jibes and the bitter/hurtful/mean comments that follow” are unnecessary…this is what happens…

She starts acting cute and tells me how much she misses this argumentative side of me. She starts telling me how much she misses “her pet dog that barks all the time”, and how I think too much of things, and how imagine things being worse than they really are. It’s the childish, cute method that bothers me. It’s really condescending because it downplays the seriousness of what I have to say. But more importantly, calling your 23-year-old daughter a pet dog…is highly inappropriate. I keep thinking that maybe I am exaggerating the inappropriateness of this whole thing, but it’s not. It’s definitely unhealthy and it’s a problem.

And should I pursue my line of thought and still attempt a serious, non-confrontation talk with her, I get this: “oh Belle, you take offense to everything I say, I can’t say anything anymore in this house”. And when I get angry at her for not listening, at which point it becomes heated on my part because I can’t for the life of me remain calm, she says…rather placidly, almost an exasperated voice… “oh belle, here we go again. I think we hit a record this time”. Record being how soon it was till we reached an argument. To which I reply “it’s not me, it’s you that needs to change. If only you listened, but you don’t.”

At this point, I had visions of various methods of hurting and/or silencing her just so she can listen to me.

And that’s when I got scared. Frightened even. I can’t live in that house…for fear of doing something that highly highly dangerous.

For years, all I wanted was her approval but I never ever received even a smidgen of it. Her “compliments” are discrete derisions, attempted at making me believe that my accomplishments aren’t really that great. Now that I think about it, it seems as if she was always settling for my achievements as opposed to actually being proud of them. Like whatever I did was never good enough, but since it’s the BEST I could possible achieve, she might as well take when she can get as opposed to well, being happy with what her daughter is doing. I am never good enough…and I realized that I put my life on hold trying to make her happy. The weight loss and the academic perfection that in her eyes, I will always be a mile off.

In that household, the small amounts of “approval” or “making parents proud” thing I ever received was on the academic and the beauty front. That was and is the only measure of my success…which isn’t really success because “I’m trying” but “average, 80% people can only reach so far…going beyond my means and hoping for success is like an ant reaching for the moon”.

La mere is depressed and unhappy with her life. She is alone. Her sister, husband, and mother have no qualms making her feel like she is shit. She lives in that kitchen, heck has all the tools money can buy…but lives with a husband who is married to his work and his work is his marriage. The marriage has been on life support for nearly a decade, with the two of them living in separate rooms…and merely performing the functions of wife and husband as if it were checking off boxes on a to-do list. But since la pere is the bread winner and obsessed with work (he works at home as well or watches the several cable news channels as soon as he gets home)…he controls the money supply. My mom sees some of it, but not nearly as much as her daughter who spends recklessly. I spend recklessly. Love isn’t something you just say as a speech during an anniversary dinner, PERE, you show it. you shower it. it’s not emotional neglect and ignoring your family duties…it’s actually spending time with your wife and daughter. It’s actually connecting with your daughter for more that 45 minutes per trip home on topics that aren’t career/job/academia related. My longest conversation with la pere that’s non-academic/job related lasted 5 minutes. It was about asking what was for dinner and about current events.

I don’t even care for la pere anymore, and as of this trip…for la mere either. I felt guilty for years feeling this way…but this year I realized, for a woman who so freely insults her daughter, and vents/lashes out on her daughter and expects to be loved back…well you have another coming la mere. This behavior officially qualifies for emotional abuse.

Being educated, and having the internet, and the help of an awesome, totally supportive friend who see this as a problem…helps…a lot.

My father is a cash machine and my mother is ball of negativity hiding behind the veil of cultural values and religion. I don’t hate them, but I don’t love them either. I feel nothing if they were to die. I don’t want their money or their property. I am perfectly fine without their interference.
I lost the fight the moment I was born: I am not fair at all and I am not a boy. apparently, not having the fair y gene has left me handicapped. however, when people tell me that i am beautiful...and when friends of friends have remarked on this positively...i started to think. perhaps, just maybe, la mere is...wrong.

(side note: look, i am no feminist. beauty means alot to me, but i know it's not the only thing that's important. when i look at a guy, i need to be physically attracted but also...well, need to not be bored. having said that, i invest a disproportionate amount of money on skincare and makeup and clothes etc. so think what you will, but I care a lot about my looks )

I used to rewind my thoughts every time I thought there was something fishy with the way la mere…just brushing it off as what mothers do. That it’s normal and that I am making a mountain out of a molehill. But. When years ago by, and the same argument comes up again and again and again, albeit more frequently and consistently as I get older, I’m starting to think that I am the one who’s perfectly rational and that la mere is just acting out her frustrations on me. The only person in the world she has any power over. At least, that’s what she thinks.

But what’s scarier is the panic and the claustrophobia…that leaves me gasping for air everytime la mere tries to subtely control me. Everytime I convey my interest and desire to stay in London…i.e. away from her, her response always has a tone of “awww how cute, she is trying to run away. Well, it’s cute she thinks that way, but it will never obviously happen. She can’t do it, she needs me. And my approval. I am her mother”. After several years, I’ve understood that much.” It’s like she needs me to be there for her just so can vent out on me….like I’m a punching bag. A scratch post. Her pet dog.

That’s when I start gasping for air. I get scared that I will return to that life…only to realize that I am in control of my life. Money is the only thing connecting me to them, and I can tell it’s scaring her that I am soon entering the work force. With her desire for me to just continue studying, it really means… “you will stay connected to us for monetary reasons, so you will listen to us…”

It scares her that I am becoming independent. She never had much choice growing up, with a culture that forced her into marriage…so it must be painful watching her daughter, at 23, living on her own and making choices on her own…

She resents me. I know somewhere deep down loves me, but I feel like she loves me because it’s her duty as a mother to love me. As I get older, it seems as if she is resenting my independence and my education more and more. Firstly because my father is pushing me the way he never pushed her, and secondly because I get to see the world as opposed to watching it on television.

So now she is trying to impede my growth, because I think she is jealous. She is abusing her power as a mother, just like she did when I was 12 and sent me to school with shorts with extremely hair legs…to face the ridicule of my peers.

I got that when apparently, the cousin I don’t talk to is at marriage age and just said no to a really “good” proposal. The whole family (mostly the females i.e grandma, another basket case ) are emotionally blackmailing her into marrying. Their excuse? It’s “our culture”. Fuck that shit.

Your marriages have spectacularly failed, so why punish your daughters with the same predicament?

Control. They never had any, so controlling daughters…watching daughters wreathe in the same pain that they went through justifies their lack of choice/power in life. Like the cycle of life: “we faced it, so our daughters need to face the same thing…how can they get away when we couldn’t?”

It’s like…study well, get the good resume only in so far as to get a good “marriage catch”…then you’re done. Then you just have follow the conveyor belt path like everyone else, produce babies…and that’s the pain of life.

Not once did I hear how fun life could be, it’s always…how painful it is. And because la mere is religious, apparently, according to her belief (which she is trying to instill in me), reaching stardom or supreme financial success is impossible…because that would mean too much gross ego and not enough purity…okay. Yea. What religion stops someone from following their dreams? Realizing their full potential? Another form of control I fell under through university.

Sorry I have to get this all out.

This vicious cycle of bitterness, control and resentment…much less competition permeate in this family and I want to get out of it. Thanks to this family, I will always be fearful of my weight …and ultimately, what I eat. Well-adjusted? Not in the least bit. I have all this unresolved anger and resentment towards la mere, I forgot to live my life. To have boyfriends and to experience the life outside my unhappy thoughts towards her.

No boyfriends. Think about that for a second. I always thought I was never good enough for anyone because I was never good enough for her…and all my “relationships” or interactions with boys have been to seek approval without delving into sexual relations…because in our “culture” premarital sex is totally inappropriate. I don’t even know why but it is. I guess in that respect la mere is afraid that I will do this…and my chances at arranged marriage are destroyed forever…which is why the few times I have talked to her about boys, there was always some stupid reason the boy wouldn’t like me (not smart, not pretty, too fat, too young, too old…the list goes on). I listened to this. I BELIEVED THIS. Control through emotional abuse. Cheers for a lifetime of scarring you bitch.

I NEED TO GET OUT OF THIS. And I am. I will waitress if I have to, but I am leaving this family forever. I can’t deal with the envy driven bitter comments, the constant feeling of being a failure…and generally, the feeling of not being good enough to standards that are impossible anyway.

I am more than just a score. I am more than just my looks. I am not an extension of my parents…I am my own person.

I deserve to be happy. I have the right to feel good about myself.

Life can be painful, but it can also be blissfully wonderful. I have the right to experience this. I should haven’t to live in fear all the time.

The clean lifestyle...the goal to only living on pure, unprocessed food is a result of all of this. I need to break free, I need to cleanse...and I need rebirth. If weight loss happens, it happens...

Thanks la mere, you’ve done a wonderful job.

Now fuck off.

Belle

ps: thanks for all the comments. without sound too egotistical, i am glad i am helping you lot! always appreciate thoughts/inputs, and forgive me for not returning the favor anytime soon...i am reading your posts! you have to trust me on this!

pps: I am feeling so good now! I got it all out!!!

ppps: the Russian here last weekend. He didn't call me to let me know he was coming. It's officially ended before it even began. It's been six weeks since he texted, and nearly four months since I last saw him. =( Why do I keep thinking that he will text me or that he is thinking of me? Comrade, our mutual friend...the Russian's good good friend...keeps mentioning the Russian when he plans on returning. I keep foolishly hoping that it's his way of saying that the Russian felt bad for not texting since he didn't know I was in town as he thought I was still out of town and that through comrade, he is voicing his interest in seeing me. False hopes. If a guy wants to be with a girl, he will climb mountains...and this isn't climbing mountains...no matter how matter how many times The Empress, The Star and The Seven of Swords keep showing up in reference to the Russian. I need to let go.

ugh

Belle, again. who else?

Life, unpasteurized

2010-04-05T11:41:00.001-07:00

Guerlain Terracotta makeup is fucking amazing. I really hope their kabuki blush brush is the same.

Two days ago, I went through $150 in a matter of minutes buying colored eye contacts (gray), said kabuki brush, and a fantastic game theory book...all delivered to my flat sometime this week.

Growing up, I have soon come to realize, is expensive. It really is.

There's not just clothes to buy, but clothes of two different sizes. Current and future. Future being skinnier.

Ugh.

Double ugh.

Good thing is, gyming and salading actually works wonders, and I can't wait to head back to my routine and just munch on vegies...and properly sculpt my body (my legs and belly). This is perhaps the first time in many many years when I haven't counted what I am eating, and actually just eating because I can.

It really is strange, almost 1.5 years ago, I went from trying to become anorexic to now...finding a sustainable way to drop weight without going insane. However, according to friends here, what I consider "enough" food (i.e. salads and fruits...alot for me), is really not much. What about carbs? What about junk food?

Well...what about them? Somewhere down the line, I adopted a refreshingly new mindset: eat healthy and head to the gym. When I kept thinking that eating was wrong, when I was afraid of eating...I ended up eating more just from the stress of the potential weight gain.

Kicking the scale, and just enjoying non/un processed food has, in it's own way, given me a new life. It's been only two months since I started this lifestyle, but...I urge alot of you to just try it. I am SURE I am not eating more than...I don't know 800-1000 calories, but I feel FULL. Satiated and I am guessing it's the magical powers of nutritious food. Well, the results are skinnier waist line, and a week ago, my tree trunks (legs) were leaner.

I guess it's as close to Skinny Bitch as I'll ever get (minus the coffee/tea). Magically enough, it fits my work lifestyle...like I don't get hungry that often, and when I do, it's vegie snacks. I guess I'm preparing for the stressful career I am (hopefully) about to enter.

Finance. Where will I get a job? I am either crying or laughing from the sheer hopelessness of it all. I need a job.

I can't afford my friends. Hanging out with them is too expensive.

One day it's 40 pound dinners, the next it's 50 pound champagne brunches...and I just don't have the budget for it. I need a job.

If I don't hang out with my friends, they'll ask why I am being aloof and if I mention that I'm on a strict budget, well...that's just embarrassing.

And above all, I hate spending on food. You know this, dear reader, you know this.

No job. No boyfriend as la mere incessantly and annoyingly reminds me...

I guess the only thing I can control is my body, and as of Friday, I will be returning to yummy salads and fruits once again.

God, I really need a kick ass job and a salary. Just something to get me going.

UGGGGGGGH.

Oh Fuck

2010-04-02T21:26:00.001-07:00

I am home.

I am eating.

I am eating...alot.

I fit into size 26 jeans rather easily now...except for Paige Premiums, those I have issues with...which is exactly why I bought a distressed vintage wash size 26 Paige's. I will fit into them. I will. Give me two months.

I am still eating alot.

My cheeks have puffed.

My thighs are touching that much more.

I am skipping going out with friends tomorrow evening because of this.

I got fat.

I don't know how much I weigh.

I lost interest in weighing myself. It's so much better for my sanity to just eat salads and gym it and check the jeans...

I miss the Russian.

I've been going through his facebook photos, watching the vids, and taroting our possibilities together like a school girl stalker that I am...

I have wet dreams about him.

O.

M.

F.

G.

What the fuck?

Belle

125 ml * 3 * Champagne =

2010-03-22T05:00:00.000-07:00

very very tipsy.

hahaha so last night, I met up with two girls from the course and we had drinks at Hakkasan London. It was lovely.

Lovely trying to clean up the blood stains on the carpet. Lovely trying to wash my hair, shave and ultimately, put my face on in a matter of an hour. It was lovely doing all of this after gyming it and burning close to 800 calories.

Sigh.

I've decided that champagne is my new best friend. Cocktails are not only your thighs best friend (meaning my enemy), but champagne, good champagne i.e the likes of laurent perrier, is very low on the cal counts. Ladies, I know 83-100/glass seems alot but compared to 600-1000 for cocktails...yea.

Three glasses, and I was buzzed. Three glasses, and I was set back nearly 40 pounds. 45 with cab. Ugggggggggh. The money BURNS in this city. BURNS.

Anyway, apparently I lost weight. In fact, one of the girls actually mused that I was turning into an anorexic...if only she knew.

Granted, I was wearing heels. But still, it's nice knowing that weight loss is now visible. My recommendation to anyone...go to the gym and just eat vegetables! Seriously, it works wonders and my goodness, my waist has like visibly diminished. My legs toner/leaner etc.

So the conversation went on to the boys in our course, and how immature they all were. With the exception of the frenchmen/irishman (adonis, this lovely well connected french lebanese gentleman whom I shall call Cache, and this other lovely gentle irishman whom I shall call Shamrock), the average mental age for the guys in our course is 5. Maybe 8-10. Immaturity reigns the day, and I swear, all of these guys are under the impression that if any of the girls chat with them, clearly we are in LOVE with them. Fuckkkkk. Is this high school? Grade school? a sand box even?

Prince Akeem is not only a tool, but a stuck up one at that. No need to mention mr. whats-his-face who went all apeshit on me at the end of january...and then there is the Crab, self-involved socially inept oxbridger, who is incapable of talking about anything...that doesn't eventually relate back to him. There's a slew of other really irritating kids, but I'm too lazy.

Of course, there's this petite Taiwanese girl in my class, who I think likes Prince Akeem and has been judgemental of me since the "make out" session in December. Apparently, because I'm wild when I party, that obviously means I shouldn't be the studious, buckling-down, responsible person. Thanks for the claustrophobia Madame, I love being boxed into a stereotype. I don't really care if people judge me, but please, for gods sake, keep it at bay. Don't bring it to my doorstep!!!

I've realized this year, that it's not only hard to trust people, but I should seperate my party animal ways from, well, everyone else in the class/work. I need a good set of folks to party with, a good set of folks to drink with, and a good set of competent folks to work with. So many groups, so little time.

Anyway. I went out for St. Patrick's day last week with Comrade, his sister and his friend...and I'm not sure what to make of this. When the topic got onto my staying here in London, finding a job etc...I get this from Comrade:

"Yea, you need to find something. I really want you to stay here."

Now, if Marilyn were to say this, heck if Angel were to say this, I get it. They're not only good friends, but my female friends. Now...Comrade on the other hand...what to make of this? He has a girlfriend, I know, and I will not interfere and have maintained a good arms-length distance from Comrade, but still.

That was sweet, and was nice, and so many other things...

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

I know I can't say this, but this is the only place I can say this...I think, the more time I spend with Comrade, even as little as it is, I'm falling for him. I really am. First it was him, this his friend the Russian(it's been well over three weeks since I've heard from him, which means he isn't interested), and now...back to Comrade. He is quiet, but dignified. Like an air of intellectualism, but modest/humble...and well, dignified. From the way he dresses to the way he carries himself...it's just classy.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.

UGH

Belle

Importance of Life

2010-03-20T19:16:00.000-07:00

So here's something I never understood. Why desire a long life? Much less an eternal one?

Life after 50-60 must be miserable...I mean, after retiring...what do you do? Kick about knitting scarves for grandkids who only look at you as a soon-to-be-expired cash machine? I mean really, what's the point of living past your prime? Je ne sais pas.

Not sure what brought on this line of thought, but I've lost much interest in people. things. life. Except for my weight, which I haven't checked but judging by how my jeans fit, looks like I've gained again...but there's not really a point is there?

You live. Deal with unnecessary drama and then poof, you're out. So why ask/long/beg to delay the inevitable?

Hmm. I don't want to live past 45. Seriously. Why bother?

That is, of course, provided I lead a life that's as far from hedonism as one can possibly imagine, cough cough my current state of affairs, and somehow, someone will give me a blank check to some mysterious swiss bank account where insatiable amounts of money is at my disposable.

Clearly, that will happen. Hah.

Hmm.

Hmm indeed.

Will expand on this post in the coming week. School's out kids...forever!!!

Belle

March Madness

2010-03-14T14:19:00.000-07:00

Hello Folks.

It's been a long ass time since I've last updated. Properly. You know, as in...details of my life. Now, as mundane as the following may seem, yours truly is on the path to recovery.

(Sort of).

Let's start at the root of all problems in my life: la mere. Now I don't remember detailing my last conversation with her, but to sum it up, essentially, I am incapable of having a boyfriend who is actually interested in me...for me. According to her, (a) I wouldn't know what to do and (b) he'd realize he's too good for me and will move on to other girls, because well, "he'd see me, then see the other woman the bar".

I thought I got over it. I thought that the last time, and many more times in the last decade. A really good friend of mine, Prism, faces the same problem with her own mother to whom she decided to cut off all ties with...only to masochistically go back, hoping for approval. Maternal connection. Knowing that she'd never get any, but blindly believing anyway, Prism ran into a book-- Mean Mothers by Peg Streep. She gave it to me.

That's the last time I ever looked at la mere the same way again.

This weekend has been one with tears, with understanding, and ultimately, redemption. I forgive la mere for her hurtful ways. She's trapped. I get it. Her mother was the same with her, except la mere had two older sisters to confide in. Never mind la grand-mere inadvertently setting off a generation hen fight amongst the sisters, that naturally and inevitably filtered through to next generation-- namely, me...and my two other cousins.

I am going home next week, and I just realized what a terrible mistake this is. Being around my mother is like watching a time bomb about to go off...without knowing the time. My obsession with weight, my paranoia about not being "perfect", and my near panic attack every time a boy shows some modicum of interest in me...well, I need to send a thank you letter addressed to la mere teaching parenting 101.

I don't know what to do, but upon several desperate requests from Prism, I am seeking the help of a counselor. This is too much for me to handle. Everytime the page turns, I recognize the incidents of countless woman describing their own interactions with their respective mothers, and wondering..."no...so my relationship with la mere ISNT normal? no...".

God Forbid, should the unlucky sob decide to marry, and GOD FORBID should I have kids...it will only be after intense therapy. I will not repeat the same mistakes.

I will not resent my kids. I will not envy the attention they receive. I will defend them should relatives decide to project their inadequacies onto them. I will be a different person.

That has been the last weekend.

The last month, has been traumatic in every possible way. I have officially cut ties with Mannequin and girlfriend. I've since grown closer to Marilyn (the ex girlfriend) and Angel. I threw a party at my place, and dealt with the anal retentiveness of my flatmate with the cleanup.

On the last part. I've never actually lived with someone $@#%!!! about cleaning. I understand the living room is shared, which is why I leave my stuff down there all the time, but leave it relatively clean. She cleans it when she is not busy, and organizes my things.

Dearest Flatmate,

Should you be reading this, please understand that this flat is shared. When you say the common room needs to be tidy because it's shared, I'll throw back the same fucking comment at you. When it's convenient for you, it needs to be clean...and when you're tired, it's not even that messy because I am doing my bit. So listen up, the common room is shared. I will leave my things as I damn well please. You don't own this flat, so stop acting like you do. And fuck sakes, stop thinking that I am just living in it. Sharing, compromising...if you can't adhere to these things, then get your own flat, but please, respect my space.

Yours Kindly,

Belle Svelte.

I did not write this to her, I TOLD HER. Yup, confronted her and now the flat is a war zone. Well, more like we avoid each other and I'm fine with that. Tool.

In other news, Mannequin didn't come to my party. The fucking loser, with his wannabe banker job at the Big Four, decides that with his ex-gf, who was perfectly fine seeing them, was the reason for skipping. Yea, whatever tool-face. You still think Marilyn is in love with you? Hah. You still think I care what you think of me? Hah. Get a life you fucking prick. I'm glad I axed you out of my life.

The Russian, has texted me a few times in the last few weeks. I've been distant with him, texting back in one week gaps...he apologized for being so "rubbish with messaging" and I didn't say anything. I'm setting my standards, my limits, my boundaries and I will compromise but I want to be chased after. Damnit, aren't I good enough for anyone?

Again, after years of being told that my success is attributed to third party influences from the one and only la mere, I think I am ready to break out of the cycle. I'll take responsibility for my work, my success, and whatever happens. I won't question it, I'll just accept it and deal with it. That includes boys. The Russian, make your choice. Either you want me or you don't, but please know that my life is so busy right now, that you WILL have to try harder. I'm not just another girl. I'm Belle. I come with much baggage, but also come with a heart to match.

I've been heading to the gym recently. Like I've mentioned in the last few posts, my thighs are noticeably smaller...toned even. And get this, I'm crushing on attendant there. He's eastern european. fuck, what is wrong with me?

Speaking of eastern europeans, I've been majorly swamped with this group project...by group, there's four of us, but it's really me and Comrade doing the work. The other two are incompetent accountants, who are essentially free riding on our work....and criticizing it. I'm falling for Comrade more and more, and it's dangerous. He has a girlfriend, and I need to not confuse our friendship as anything more. Fuck Fuck Fuck. When I got drunk at my party, I kissed him on the cheek. He had his hand on the small of my back protectively, to which I rebuked...because he has a girlfriend. I can't I can't I can't. I can't. This is not cool of me.

I'm overstepping my boundaries.

On the job front. Most of my classmates have found jobs...really good ones at major/top banks. I've yet to hear anything back from the few (ahem, cough, one) that I applied to. Not anymore. After these group projects, as much as I bitched and whined, I actually really like financial valuation of mergers and acquisitions. It's interesting, it's stimulating, and I really like it. I've found my thing. Ironically, that's what investment bankers do...and I only just realized this a couple days ago. Oh dear lord.

After all that time, swearing an oath to God that I would never become an I-Banker...here I go, actually liking the work they do.

Is there a gun? A rifle? A canon even?

I've been on salads for the last few weeks, and I haven't checked my weight. Using my jeans as a measure of my hard work.

Right punks. Over and Out.

Belle

PS: To my readers, and especially those of you who take the time to comment, thank you. I won't lie, I'm probably (read: most likely) will not be returning the favor, but I wanted to extend my warmest gratitude because...well, just because. Thanks, and know that I'm paying attention as well....time permitting. Good luck, and please, keep reading! It's gratifying to know someone out there is listening.

Holla Once Again

2010-03-13T03:25:00.000-08:00

Ja okay. Made some huge changes in the last few weeks.

For starters, I'm eating again. Not just relying on smoothies, and inevitably, peanut butter to nourish my system.

Secondly, I am at the gym 4-6 times a week. Hence the eating. Some of you are really good at burning shitton of calories and continuing the day without much trouble, but...I can't. It's difficult. With loads of group projects and well, work that needs to be done, I need energy. Hence why I now eat salads and cereals. Well weetaabix and salads and fruit and yogurt. I know, I know. Eating.

Two meals a day, definitely under a 1000 calories and burning 600+ calories at the gym, with loads and loads of ab excercises...walking to school...you know. Life.

I haven't checked my weight, and I don't think I lost pounds...but I have lost some girth around my thighs. My jeans prove it...so much so, I graduated to the second to the last hole on my belt. Yay.

Too tired to write, but this is merely a trailer. Term ends soon, so I'll have free time once again.

Belle

Giving Up

2010-03-01T01:38:00.000-08:00

I'm yo-yoing. 127.6 as of this morning.

Hitting the gym pretty hard, trying to control my eating. Broke down from the liquid diet and replaced with pizzas, muffins and brownies.

Until last week, when I changed my mindset and switched to salads. So it's bread in the mornings and salad in the evenings.

And fucking hell, I'm 127.6.

I've just realized something. I'll never lose the weight. Ever.

Belle

Clean Slate

2010-02-03T00:03:00.001-08:00

I deleted his number.

I can't do this anymore. I really just can't. I can't let this boy invade my thoughts every thirty seconds. I can't let this boy distract me from work. I can't let this boy get in the way of my life. I just cant.

This is the end of the Russian chapter.

I am feeling better. Back on track with the liquids...and heading out to Oxbridge this weekend. I need a break.

Speaking of which, I think my professor actually likes me now. At least he respects me that much more...

when the entire class had plans of taking super hard courses this term, only a few of us actually followed through...me included. My dissertation topic combined with a tough schedule apparently has shed new light on my intellect.

Clearly, the formula is quite simple: getting your prof's respect requires one to dig their own graves.

Shovel anyone?

Overall, I'm in better spirits. Discarded deadweights in my life and leaving room for better things to come.

Belle

January: Train Wreck

2010-01-31T13:25:00.000-08:00

This blog is my pensieve. It's not about wannarexia (even though I desperately need to "catch" it) or anorexia or bulimia or anything like that. It's about my life.

And what a can of worms it's turning into.

It's about my obsession with food. My weight. My image. My dream of being 110. But ultimately, it's about controlling my temptations and ultimately, failing at it. Fuck. How far I've fallen down this neverending rabbit hole. Why did I even start?

I can't stop smoking. I can't stop eating. I can't stop life from happening.

January was a train wreck.

Let's examine the shit list shall we? Drama a week...I'm telling you.

Week 1: Mannequin.

I've officially cut him out of my life. Decided that his pervese obsession with my sex life (and lack thereof) is not only making me question my worth, but desensitizing an experience that I want to share with someone special. I don't want to ruin something so...intimate just because some douche decides to make fun of my virginity. Secondly, I never hear good things about me from him. Ever since I've returned to London, I've heard so much shit from him and I constantly have to assuage his ego. No more. I am tired of giving, and I'm tired of controlling my tongue, regardless of my sobriety levels. The boy has gone from tolerable to unbearable. I'm better than you, you sorry piece of shit. I will not go through life just scraping by. I want something. I don't know what, but I want a challenge. I want a goal to reach. I am not satisfied with the status quo. You can either help me, or stay the fuck out of my way.

This isn't a game, it's how I am now deciding to lead my life: on my terms, and on this topic, I will hear none of it.

Week 2/3: La Mere

Things were going well with la mere. However, human nature is a hard thing to change, if it can ever be mutated. La mere is a depressed, self-loathing, selfish, asinine, bitter...and so many more things I can't think of right now, but you get the idea. What kind of mother trains her daugther to be self sufficient and independant, only to resent her once she is. Two weeks ago, in my attempt to veer the conversation away from my personal life...

la mere: well, you are lazy, you wouldn't know what to do even if you had a boyfriend.

me: yea, i am lazy. and proximity scores major points in my book. Hence why it wouldn't work with the Russian.

la mere: well, even if you did have a boyfriend, you'd be asking "why me" at a bar. and ofcourse, the answer to that is because every girl [he is interested in now and in the future] he knows already has a boyfriend.

grammatical errors noted.

I know. Out of the blue, and once again, my mother's acerbic language takes the stage. I don't know what upsets me more: the fact that she said it or that she actually believes it. I've grown up thinking that I am an unpretty, stupid, fat, miserable excuse of a person. I am never good at anything, although she always refers to "other things" I am good at to make up for my general lack of excellence, I just got lucky. Or God was behind me. Or a million other things that have nothing to do with my skill, but it with my luck. I am tired of her accepting my mediocrity, like I'm some sort of lost cause. I am tired of waking up in the mornings and feeling shitty about being me. I am tired of never ever being good enough. I am tired of having to hate myself because I don't measure up in her eyes. I am tired of letting her taking out her frustrations on me. I am tired of having to hear that I am the one with issues. I am tired of having her play victim in all of this. I am tired of this bullshit.

So I stopped talking to her as well. There is no point. A conversation with her is like playing dodgeball. I'm constantly evading topics that might hurt me, only to realize that eventually, I'll be hit and it will hurt. It will be painful.

She's in the motherland. and I will talk to her if I have to. But our "closeness" that I foolishly thought was real, is merely a facade. I keep going back, hoping to get some kind of approval from her in any part of my life...like a dog returning to its master. Except, I'll never get it. I just realize that. I will never have my mother's approval. Ever.

Week 4: Robinesca

I will call him Robinesca because he's acting like a fucking girl. This is his first, and definitely last, mention on this blog due to the following. Smart kid, cute...but I've never been interested in him. He's in my class, and I've always considered him to be a friend...nothing more. Few innocent texts (count: 3, maybe 6 not more) and a facebook wall post...and...get this...

the fact that I didn't meet his girlfriend. So here is the play-by-play of last weeks events.

Tuesday: Hectic day, presentations and dealing with a chinese bitch who decides to screw us all over. last minute rearrangements of said presentation by yours truly, giving up speaking spots to those who were apparently more capable, eating nothing, no money, the affect of week 1-3 still dampening my moods, second period in two weeks, cold weather and a million other things...and i was still supposed to meet Robinesca's girlfriend. I couldn't meet her last weened because I was sick, and apparently, not talking to her the few hours during our prep and not talking to her at the bar was enough for Robinesca to think that i am "avoiding" her. I, infact, sent a message as soon as I left the bar profusely apologizing and not getting into the details as to why I left. I nearly fainted that evening and for fuck sakes, for once, it's about me and my legs. and how tired I was. and not about anyone else.

but I apologized. and she responded by saying that she would be here for a couple months and that we would have plenty of ops to meet. i thought everything was cool, glad she was so understanding. apparently, it wasn't. i get a text from him...

"this is strange. all of my friends have met my girlfriend, and you haven't. your ambiguous behavior is really strange to me. perhaps we should keep a distance"

WTF?!?!!? guys, i barely talk to this guy. when i see him, i chat. when i see him in class, i joke around. i'm silly. i'm me. but nothing more. anyway. thought it was a joke, apparently it wasn't so he calls me out thursday evening to same bar...and...

Accuses me of sending him flirty messages etc inspite of knowing that he has a girlfriend. for nearly five minutes (or was it ten, it felt like infinity) in the pouring rain, outside the pub, i had to hear hour i was ambiguous in my behavior and how i didn't meet his girlfriend tuesday night and how i avoided her and how the one moment she wasn't there I decided to leave and how i should be "proper" with him as opposed to how am i with other guys, further citing my make out session (or not) with the Prince Akeem and my drunk moment when i jumped in the ocean...as damaging to my reputation....

so i responded, when i had the chance, saying that i treated him like i would treat everyone else and that if i gave him cause to think otherwise, that i am sorry about because i had no intention otherwise. finally, with respect to his girlfriend, i had to go because of all the reasons stated above. but mainly, i was tired and it wasn't not intentional in the least bit.

I squeezed in about thirty seconds of conversation before he aptly warns me to never ever talk/message him or his girlfriend. in his words..."leave us both alone!"

He then storms off. Leaves me behind in the pouring rain.

In front of a busy student pub. With people walking by.

The thing that pisses me off is why wait till this week to tell me all this? If I bothered him so much, he should have told me earlier. I was made to be the class slut, which I am not and I know this. My reputation was called into question, to which I've had all of two incidents last term...nothing too scandalous, AND he made me out to be overly flirtatious with him. I drew funny pictures of him in class. I sent a 5-6 messages to him, most, if not all, perfectly innocent in the space of a term. I was not in the least bit pushing the boundary and inviting him for drinks/coffee or even showing friendly displays of affection (hugs etc). None of that. If I saw him on the street, I'd chat. That's it.

I respect that he called me out and spoke his mind, but am beyond IRRITATED that I couldn't even defend myself. I was called out, accused, and left in the pouring rain...alone with my tears.

I should have known. The moment I accepted the rendez vous, I might as well have walked in front of a firing squad. He's German after all, ofcourse he would go all Nazi on me. fuck.

Week 1-4: The Russian.

The cherry on the fucking melting mess of a pudding that is my so-called life. I caved and texted last week. He sent some long messages back. Still in the game I thought. Since new years, nay that weekend before my exam when i couldn't meet him because i was studying...i havent received a text from him. in fact, when he refers to that weekend, it's "the weekend when i was studying for exams" and not "when i was last here". is he mad at me? i dont know. i really dont. where do i stand? is this going anywhere? does he think about me as much as i think about him? is this a silent rejection?

should i move on?

after all this. i ate like a maniac this weekend. i wont say what, but the word "fat" comes to mind. of course, i never quit smoking. still going strong on that one.

i am thankful for my friends who listened to my unfolding drama and i am thankful for my dearest readers. thank you for keeping me in your prayers and thoughts...thank you. it's soothing.

i am tired. stressed. looking for an exit button.

that night, when robinesca blindsided me...i was crying on my way home and all i wanted to do was talk to roman. i didnt call him. i called a friend from class and she basically held my hand over the phone. thank God for good people. good friends. what would I do without them?

my face is bloated. i feel fat. january has ended. i hope the dust has settled. i don't need the residual debris in february.

it's february. 12:06 A.M.

let's hope for a better month.

ugh

Belle Svelte

No Smoking

2010-01-24T10:37:00.001-08:00

Another day, Another post.

Another pound that needs to be lost.

Okay, so it's more than a pound. So sue me.

I am actually way too tired to write this, but I need to focus on anything...so that I don't faint.

Where do I start?

I have no money. Here's the irony. I have enough to cover next month's gym payment, but oddly enough, I don't need the gym seeing as I have nothing to eat. Nothing.

This is a good thing, but terribly bad when it comes to having enough energy to work through what seems to be like the toughest term of my life. There is NO possible way to get through this massive basket of financial goodies without going insane...or hungry...or both.

That I have officially quit smoking. Raison d'etre? My lips are turning this unsightly shade of gray. Pinks lips, where art thou?

Kissable lips. That's what I want.

So here goes my lemon, milk, olive oil, and honey treatments...

But quitting smoking? I know. But with no way of eating to stave of the nicotine cravings, I think I'm in for a really really really rough week. Really rough.

Not really sure what the weight is.

I'm sorry, I having nothing smart to say. Except that yours truly is going mental. MENTAL.

The Russian? What about him? I didn't meet him that weekend he was here due to exams, and I texted twice that weekend to make sure we're cool. After ten days of silence, I broke down and sent something super lame only to have a super long message returned...what does this mean? I have no idea. Boys, they're confusing.

I most likely won't see him till April. He's got stuff with work up north, and I really want him to invite me. INVITE ME DAMNIT.

UGH. okay, I'll think of something interesting later this week, but for now. I am alive and cranky and blah.

Just blah.

BLAH.

Belle

Weekend Update

2010-01-10T03:40:00.001-08:00

Hello.

Old readers. New Readers. Thank you for your continued patronage.

It makes me happy knowing that I'm a small part of your day. It makes me happier knowing that I have followers who are interested in my life beyond what I eat...or don't eat. My fear of being boring subsides every time I get an affirmation from you lot. So comment. Or don't. Regardless, thanks. I'm glad someone's listening.

Not much to update except that I've finished all the readings for the class, and now...you know, have to study. Memorize. "Internalize" so to speak.

I received a text from the Russian and I sadly had to decline meeting up with him for drinks, and going to Comrade's party hier soir. Comrade so tirelessly tried to persuade me to come, but given that it takes half the day to get ready, and the minor detail of having an exam Monday morning, I rejected. It was hard. It's still hard.

He's in London, wanted to meet me and I said no. Truth be told, it's better this way. Not just because of the exam, but I can't drop everything just to meet him. Belle Svelte is a not a readily available person. Hard to get? Well, chase me a little. I'll give in eventually.

::smiles::

It's actually hilarious trying to get information about the Russian Comrade. Skype Chatting with Comrade inadvertently turns into a conversation about the Russian...apparently, it's cute watching us two do our thing. Thanks Comrade, I'm thrilled to be your entertainment. Really, I am. Watching me stumble for words, say the wrong things, apologize profusely...yea. Totally thrilled.

Haha. But I do owe this boy. He's facilitated the whole Russian-Belle thing, and irrespective of where this leads, Comrade is a true friend.

However, there maybe another boy on the horizon. I shall name him Diplomat. More on this in the future. Anyway, Diplomat and I met in a seminar group for the class I'm about to take an exam in, and I think he likes me. A little anyway. See, everytime we go for coffee post-seminar, and as of yesterday, post-exam-discussion-group, he ends up sitting next to me and talks only to me. It's like no one else is sitting at the table, and it's just us two...chatting. Random chat. TV shows, traveling...etc. It's nice, and I want to continue talking to him. But...and there is a big but, I don't get butterflies when I see him. He is cute for sure as he has this intellectual bearing (glasses and all) going for him, and I get excited meeting him, BUT...I just don't want to sleep with him. I'd rather have him as a good friend than as a boyfriend. I'm attracted to our friendly rapport...and that's it.

With the Russian, it was awkward at first but I can freely talk to him...and everytime I see him, I'm elated. And for the first time in a long time, I don't just want to be his friend...I want to be something more. I want him to hug me, pet my nose, hold my hand...keep me warm from the cold (as he tries to many times)...and as embarassing as this sounds, I want my first time to be with him. I feel safe when I'm around him, and I know that he'll respect my boundaries. Sigh.

I want to see him.

Sigh.

Belle Svelte

2 0 1 0

2010-01-06T18:16:00.000-08:00

Oh dear, I becoming more and more distant with you lot. I'm sorry.

It's been well over three weeks now, and there's much to be told.

First thing's first. My weight. Last I checked, I am teetering on 122-123. Post Christmas/Birthday/New Year's festivities. Honestly, I'm surprised.

Since my birthday, I've done nothing but drink/eat/sleep...and repeat.

But the most important thing out of this, is that I have tried to stop smoking. Big fucking emphasis on tried...and everytime I come come close, I substitute fags for food. Trust me, it's a lost battle. Even with the gym, the mysterious disappearance of all New Years nibbles from the kitchen...I ate. Fuckkkkk.

I'm hoping the stress of next term will keep me locked up in the library, where I will no doubt live out the last days of my pathetic student life in unfiltered misery. I need a drink. Or two. Or ten.

Ending the melodrama right now.

The gym is going good. My plan is a combination of resistance training and cardio, four-five times a week, building up to six times a week. Let's hope this works. I really need to tone the tummy area, it's getting out of hand. My thighs are bit wobbly too. Sigh, fuck it. My whole body is wobbly.

The Russian. Where do I start?

So...to continue from where I left off from the last post, I make it to said party. Remember how the Russian my number? Well I told Comrade that I couldn't make it to his party citing a rendez vous with Mannequin and girlfriend as an excuse (a viable one as I did meet them at London Bridge), only to receive a text from the Russian Friday...asking me to go to this "awesome party at Comrade's".

Hhaha. Guys can be so simple sometimes, it's fantastic. Obviously Comrade told the Russian. And obviously I knew that was going to happen. It was a test. Would the Russian contact me personally or not instead of using Comrade as a transmitter. Yay.

Hold on. It gets better. Nothing to eat, four glass of champagne...I make it to Comrade's very small, night before ski trip party and I was wasted. I have no idea what I said, but do remember a very hot make out session with the Russian. This was after I went to bed, and well, guess who decides to join. He was sweet tho. No intention of taking advantage of my drunk state, but did initiate a kiss after I pecked him on the cheek.

And then I ruined it by telling him that I was not a friends with benefits type of girl. Not the moment to say such things Belle. Again, my memory is quite fuzzy, but I do recall asking him where I stood in his eyes. Friend? Acquaintance?

After that night, I was positive I would never hear from him again...when five days later, I get a text from him. And then it started, the back and forth repartees until I see him post ski trip almost accidentally, through Comrade, when he (the Russian) asks me to go shopping with him.

I hung out with him for all of seven hours. Shopping...then dinnering...then pubbing. No kiss. Just a hug on the Piccadilly line.

He continued to text me until two days ago...so now I dont know.

Sigh.

Any advice?

Friends. Mannequin is officially starting to annoy me. He uses me as a punching bag to make himself feel better about his life and his girlfriend. I'm sorry you two put on a collective eighty pounds over the last few months. That's what happens when you eat...a lot. According to him, I look like a cancer patient and when they came over for New Years, only because I was forced into inviting them as I spent Christmas with his family (oh dear lord...), they saw my cupboard. and the fridge. I live on innocent smoothies. So sue me if I don't want to eat.

They left so much food at my place. I'm not sure if they wanted to see me gain weight or if they truly wanted me to be healthy. With MagsBags I know it's out of love. With Mannequin, I'm not sure.

See, he's insulting me...my virginity, my lack of having a boyfriend and various other things to make his girlfriend feel better about herself. Fuck off you coward. It's not my fault Magsbags is enduring cold water showers and lack of a proper heating system in your flat. This is karma bitch for downright insulting me, and your ex girlfriend, for the last 1.5 years.

I asked him what he thought of me. Apparently, I am a Dan Brown novel. Addictive-ly boring. And apparently, MagsBags and Mannequin are both ducks..."unassuming on the surface, paddling away below"...i..e working hard behind closed doors. Isn't this a paradox? Shouldn't you, by your very own definition, NOT boast about your work? Geez. Seriously. All I have to say is...

As a Dan Brown novel, I would make enough money to eat foie gras...except that I'm (a) vegetarian (b) absolutely terrified about gaining weight and (c) a nice person.

Once again, fuck off.

But what killed me was this comment: "I'm the victim of my own success". Apparently, Mannequin, is being held captive at work because he's one of the top ranked employees.

The self boasting. The "I have good dress sense spending God only knows how much on Brooks Brothers, Ralph Lauren suits" yada yada instead of finding suitable living arrangements for me and my girlfriend. And he has the gaul to tell ME that I have no dress sense in the least bit. I'm sorry I don't view the world through a narrow minded lens. Again, Fuck off.

There's much more going on, but at the root...it's that he is so envious of the fact that I am where I am through my own merit. He's the type to forever take the risk averse position in life, and hope to just...get by. Grow a pair and grab life by the balls man. Seriously.

But even if you don't, don't hold me back because I have ambitions. You may not be replaceable, but you are easily substitutable.

Work.

I have an exam coming up. Fuuuuuuuccccck. How do you study for exams after been out of the game since...I dunno, May 2008? Yea, I know.

Going back to smoking and juicing tomorrow.

Ugh.

Belle

Russian Amor?

2009-12-15T10:25:00.000-08:00

I met the Russian this weekend. Twice.

For the last month, I've been either socializing or starving in attempts to forget all about this boy because he lives...oh so far away. So when Comrade texted saying that the Russian in town this weekend, I was elated...beyond comprehension. But let's rewind for a sec, because much has passed since I last journaled.

First off- I'm still at 122ish range. By Thanksgiving, I hit 120 because of the liquid only diet, only to have it broken because I spent the night before sleeping in front of my doorstep because I locked myself out. Flatmate couldn't hear my frantic calls outside, let alone the buzzer, and with no cell on me, you get the idea. Since Thanksgiving, to last weekend, it has been a major eat fest. Parties mean eating and loads of drinking, and I have to say, I nearly had a heart attack while watching my weight increase pound by pound until I hit 125. No way. Just no way.

So. Where do I start? Much has happened...but I can't remember the full details of my life in the last month. The juicy parts consist of making out with Prince Akeen...first time he pulled away from surprise, the second time he got into it, and third time, on the dance floor at this club that some guy in our course had connections with, which got us loads of free drinks (we're talking premium vodkas etc), where Prince Akeen properly backed off because "you're so drunk Belle, I wouldn't want to take advantage of you". Cheers punk, I'm not interested in Africans anyway.

Fuck you.

(And your ferragamo belt.)

Seeing as I was rejected by the male gender, drunk Belle decided to rebound on the female gender...I remember properly making out with another girl from the class. Oh dear lord. I need to stop drinking, because clearly, I do and say silly things that will one day bite me in the ass. Perhaps I should take the equal opportunity approach to love. That might widen the field a bit.

Comrade. Same evening when said making out happened, I was apparently so drunk that I confessed to liking him the first couple weeks of term. After profusely apologizing the next day, apparently I said other things that I wouldn't have revealed in less inebriated state. What did I say? I now know. I haven't slept with anyone, and I only made out with guy before. He remembers, I feign ignorance.

Mannequin (previously called Prepster) and I are meeting up this week, because he finally contacted me--to have drinks last Friday. He almost demanded that I meet him, which proceeded in smoking many a cigarette bitching about the fact that life is always on his terms. The narrow minded prick irritatedly cancelled when I told him I had dinner plans, imaginary dinner plans that became real when folks from my course set up a rendez vous at what was apparently, an "amazing" Morrocan place on Regent Street. It was disgusting, but Adonis managed to charm the waiters into getting us the full sampling of the desert menu. And Morrocan Tea (The a la menthe). That tea was the highlight of my evening. It was effing delicious.

Last weekend, marked the end of my two week food gorging...because I attempted to quit smoking, but realized that I substitute fags for food, and that's even worse than having yellow teeth...which btw, in photos, I don't have...even though the whiteness has dulled since I've returned. Thank you Crest Professional Supreme Whitestrips for keeping my smile intact so that when photos are taken, people only see sparkles.

Marilyn, Mannequin's ex girlfriend spent two weeks with me because of her internship in London. I barely saw her, but when I did, it was the most fun I've had with a girl since returning to london..with the exception of my time with Angel. It's been awhile since I spent girly moments gushing over boys, painting nails, straigtening hair and getting drunk/returning home together at wee hours in the morning. My flatmate, in that sense, is quite boring. Ofcourse, last Saturday marked the end of her trip, to which we celebrated by heading to the oldest, and one of the more expensive, Indian restaurants on Regent Street. The bill, for two, was 140 pounds. Girls, I know we all talk about minFood at parties etc etc, but when I spend 70 on dinner, I better fucking eat all of it. Which I did. Then we head across the river on a whim to this random south pacific bar to dance/drink the night away. I got hit on by an architect who was properly feeling up my back and my ass...which would have been fine had it not been for my tights that were seriously cutting into my stomach. Oh yes, my period started the next day. I know.

What else? Met a whole slew of people from my bachelors degree, all giving me this new found respect now that I am undertaking a difficult degree. It was weird being respected...and not feeling invisible because usually with these folks, I'm sidelined as I was never cool enough to be on their "level". So when my ex flatmate decides to call me out, have drinks and properly chat for four hours, I was shocked. More so for leveling of attitudes than for inviting me. Clearly, I'm cool now. Fuck off, I've always been cool. I don't need a degree to tell me this.

I was trying really hard, really hard to forget about the Russian. Comrade often retorts that I barely know this guy, but don't you just know? It's not love at first sight, but it's a strong attraction...and I was getting better at handling the disappointment of him not being here.

Until last Saturday, after a day of shoe shopping...I get a text from Comrade. That day was a day of mishaps...I was nearly 90 minutes late because (a) didn't look good, so changed into casual sexy mode...25 minutes (i know! so fast! shocking!) (b) took the wrong tube line, failure to find taxis and (c) phone died. Tube line might have been negligible had it not been the stop that's associated with my university. I know. Apparently, inspite of being 45 minutes late to his next party, Roman stayed to talk to me.

My only worry that evening was that he waited for nothing. Was I cool enough? Interesting enough? Was I worth the wait?

He invited me to go to said party, but seeing as it was Marilyn's last day, I wanted to spend my time with her. I'm glad I did for the next day, Comrade and the Russian drinks again, and I specifically stated to Comrade that he should invite me only if the Russian wanted me there. I went, once again, an hour late because...well, honestly, I was sleeping when I got the text. After a failed cab attempt that cost me all of 10 pounds to get only a few blocks from here, I speed walked to the bar...and properly chatted.

The night before, I felt like the conversation lulled...like we didn't have any common topics to discuss. Comrade tried, but I felt like I was being boring. The next day, it got better but not to the level of overflowing conversation that you'd expect when things click between people. Ofcourse, the Russian invited me to party with them this weekend when he returns to London, and to spend some time at the end of the month to shop for a gift for his younger sister. So far so good? Not sure. I really don't know.

But...here's where I get more confused. The three of us caught the tube, with Comrade stopping at Holborn...leaving the Russian I to take the tube to Kings X, his point of departure to return home. We had half an hour to kill, so he bought coffee and we just talked...casual, testing the waters stuff...learning about past...likes/dislikes etc. He asked to walk with him to his platform (on the other end of the Kings X), at which point he hugs me before he leaves. Now...there was ten minutes left before the train left...which begs the question, did he go to find a seat and get settled in early, or did he find me boring and just wanted to get out of there?

I had to ask Comrade...told him I was surprised that he hugged me, since it was our third official meeting including the party. Comrade was like "i don't know why he didn't kiss you, i would have"...i don't know. Don't overthink? Over analyzing?

See he didn't even ask for my number. But then I learned that the Russian asked Comrade for it before he moved...so he has my number.

I don't know. I just dont. I'm going with the flow, but for once, I'd like something to work out...I don't expect it to happen soon or anything, but still. I like the guy. Fair enough, we're still getting to know each other yada yada yada, but I like just a bit more every time I see him. I really hope that's reciprocated. I do. I hope I'm not disappointing.

He's returning this weekend, and while I want to see him, should I meet up with him if Comrade asks. Like this is the thing, I feel like I'm going out of my way to see him (refer to mishaps in previous paragraphs)...but I don't want to seem desperate. I really dont. Should I play it cool and mysterious and be like "something came up, I have to do other things that are matter of urgency" or should I go to the party Comrade is arranging...where I know for sure I'll run into Russian? I want him to call me out personally instead of doing it through Comrade. He has my number, and he's my friend on facebook...surely that's not an issue.

I don't like being played around with. I can be tough if I have to be.

Anyway. That's that. I'm on break now, and am attempting to study (failing miserably, but attempting none the less)...sorry for the very belated updated, and even more apologies for the terrible summary I provided. Promise to write better next time.

Sigh.

Belle

Apologies

2009-11-18T10:09:00.000-08:00

I'm really sorry for not updating in awhile. Things have gotten uber busy here, and I promise I'll give y'all a better (totally deservd) post this weekend.

Until then.

Cheerio.

Belle

PS: 122.8. Fuck yes.

PS: Taking some assessment tests, really need to pass to get an interview/possibly an offer, so I beg you guys...please please PLEASE send prayers. Please.

Single 'til I'm Skinny

2009-11-07T06:29:00.001-08:00

I ballooned up to 127 again this morning. How is that even possible? How?

I had drinks last night, two onigirs and soup. Coffee earlier in the day, but that's about it.

Today, it's a caramel macchiato (300 calories) and some tea in the morning (50)...and that's about it. Let's see if I can be under 600 by day's end.

Absolutely no food in the house save for milk and expired bottled gazpacho. No grocery shopping nothing. I'm tired. This is fucking it, I have to drop weight. I've been in London more than a month, and I was supposed to shed pounds with all the walking but instead, I'm maintaining. Perhaps it's the drinking, but still. Still.

Anyway. Currently applying for jobs. Yup, playing the game of what deadlines haven't passed yet. Experimenting a little bit by pursuing fashion marketing at some major holding firms in London. Hopefully the German language courses I'm now taking will help out...a little...bit. It was between german and french, and my heart just SCREAMED german. German it is.

Met up with this sweet Russian girl last night, and we basically discussed boys we met at last week's Russian party. Even tough I was very very buzzed by the end, I didn't let up on my crush on the Russian. We both decided that he knows he's hot, and all the things that come with knowing.

It was strange when she asked me about this guy who was there, who incidentally goes to the same uni I go too, is my age, divorced his wife who shares a baby with him and is dating this sweet, very skinny girl...asked what I thought about him. He was cute, but in he serious intellectual kind of way (he really is VERY smart). Of course, that's a no go because he has a girlfriend. Strange that she asked. So I told her that he is arrogant, but cute...and how I don't go for attached men.

Then we broached the subject of the Russian. I didn't let up. I really didn't. Y'all should be proud of me because of the gargantuan levels of control...the temptation to ask about him, but knowing that I would give up my position. Oh dear, it was tempting, but I didn't.

Anyway. Over the Russian. I'm not even tempted to look at his FB pictures. Clap please, clap. I'm too fat for him anyway.

I'm taking this really cool negotiations course as my elective, and much of it is simulated case studies. Not too many cute guys, but many of them are hilarious. Laughter is always a plus. Anyway, during a tutorial session, I noticed how one of the guys in my group sat next to me...out of all the empty chairs in class to pick, he chose the one to my left. Interesting, I thought. Seven hours later, he friends me on Facebook. Now. Searching for me on Facebook without knowing my full name is quite the effort. Forget knowing, even spelling my first name...and with no friends in common, I have NO idea how he managed to find me, but he did. Fellow Capricorn, with a Taurean moon (wouldn't have guessed, but the dry sense of humor makes sense), and from his pictures...he smokes! Nice one. Anyway, interesting is all I can say.

It doesn't matter though. My self-esteem is at an all time low because photos from last weekend are up. I look so freaking FAT in all the pictures taken. It's ridiculous. You know when you see those few photos and it hits you that the number on the weighing scale doesn't draw the full picture of your frame...yup, I had that moment on Thursday and realized that it doesn't fucking matter if I'm 127 or 125 or 123. Stick thin is stick thin, and I need to get there. There was this one photo with Adonis' conquest, Narcissa, ...and my GOD. She is so skinny, like a 15-year-old girl and there I was, with my fat arms, and fat cheeks...and a flowing shirt that should have covered my stomach area, but instead, magnified it.

Damnit. I'm too fat to date anyone. Single till I'm skinny.

Then there's Adonis. According to the grapevine, Narcissa made out with Adonis last weekend but is avoiding him...because Adonis has a girlfriend back home. Apparently, he's denying it...but that's such bullshit because no one would jokingly list another pretty girl as your girlfriend on facebook. Ooooo...the drama unfolds. With no interest on Narcissa's end, Adonis has started talking to me this week...with focused attention. All I have to say is...

I am no one's backup.

I may not be skinny, or drop dead gorgeous...and I may have a truckload of insecurities, but that ain't enough to make me desperate.

I am perfectly fine being single...because that is better than giving up my pride for a guy who thinks I the fallback plan.

French. Never trust them...sleezebags, every one of them.

Nearly three, and on 350 calories. I need to get my act together and realize my dream. 110 baby!

Belle

Hung over

2009-11-04T13:25:00.001-08:00

What the fuck am I doing?

I must STOP looking at the Russian's facebook pictures. I have to stop. It NEEDS to stop. There is no future, he isn't interested, and even if he was, he isn't here.

So why is it that my thoughts just wander towards his beautiful, piercing eyes?

Why? Why? Why?

Did I mention he is a Scorpio...with a Cancer moon? F.U.C.K.

My borderline obsessive streak hasn't quite left the building yet, which is really unfortunate for me as I seem to avoid being productive. Every five minutes, I set aside Angel's dissertation to just pray/hope/beg that somehow this will work out. It won't though. Deep in my heart, I know that this is totally futile. It really is.

I know this, and yet I willingly chose to ignore reason.

Why? Maybe there's hope? Or is it false hope? I'm currently in the gray area, but in my heart, I know nothing will come out of it. As soon as that thought comes, I force the "have some hope! be optimistic!" attitude...and then I get confused. I'm trying to be honest with myself- but seriously, with the situation the way it is, I don't even have to go THAT far.

And yet...I keep living on false hopes. Damnit.

I caved in and had three cookies from tesco. And a subway sandwich. I was doing so well today too.

Damn you Russian. Why does fate love toying with my heart. WHY?

Belle.

PS: I'm dwelling huh?

PPS: Forgive this lazy ass for not commenting-- making long trips between school, my place and my friend's place is seriously draining any energy I have. Good thing is, I've been on liquids--cough cough coffee these past few days, but I haven't even touched my work yet. I've been trying to help Angel-- no regrets here, this girl really needs to submit the dissertation. This requires constant attention as she has this tendency to get...distracted. Anyway. no excuses, this weekend I WILL catch up on all the blogs and comment away.

Sea Sickness

2009-11-02T02:00:00.000-08:00

Honestly, I don't quite remember last weekend.

Our department had an away weekend- the purpose was to get drunk. No really. It was. When the department pays for the wine (which was overflowing at every non-Asian occupied table), and refuses to pick up the water, it becomes obvious that nearly everyone in the room is absolutely plastered.

There I was. The wine just kept refilling itself, and I just kept drinking it. The thing is, I usually hang out with the guys, so most of the time, I forget that I'm a girl. As a girl- I just can't handle the multiple shots and the 1.5 bottles of white/red each all on 2 lattes and a sparse dinner. I could have, but I stopped myself. It was a mistake- a grand one. I passed out by 10 on a Friday night. After an awful karaoke session, but I won't go into this.

Anyway. There are three streams/groups within this department, and we, while technically, the lowest in the hierarchy of hardest to get into, were the most fun bunch there. Someone mused that at any given point during last weekend, atleast one (if not more) us had a drink in our hand(s). It was so true. So true.

Ofcourse, I passed out because I was drunkenly asking Comrade details about the Russian. Not at all caring that the Russian left for the north and that I would, perhaps, never see him again. I guess that's the backdrop I was working under most of this weekend. Most.

So that was Friday night. I missed out on the clubbing. Ah well, I had a great sleep. Fast forward Saturday.

Boring day, but started drinking at six. Sangrias. Not so dangerous. Later, we started playing drinking games in the room-- one where a bunch of us from our course and two, not so pretty oh-so skinny albeit overly dressed girls from the top academic group, decided to play 21. I'll spare you the details, the guy who has a crush on me kept making mistakes and, as a result, got far more buzzed than any of us. But let's call one of these alien girls Narcissa. In a word- high maintainance control freak- and Adonis was chasing after her. She responded in kind, but then again, who wouldn't.

No one failed to notice what was going on. However, I had a strange feeling that Adonis knew I liked him, given the number of times I ended up sitting next to him consciously and unconsciously, the time when most of the guys played bumper cars and I refused but decided when Adonis called that I'd sit next to him (i hate bumper cars!)...and how he talked to another girl in our class about Narcissa and not me. You know, the whole getting excited about meeting girl, getting advice etc. Little did anyone know that he was so three weeks ago. So three weeks ago.

Apparently, he doesn't have a girlfriend- it's just listed as such on facebook. Right. Whatever. Anyway, I decided that I didn't care and we walked around, club after club trying to find a decent to place to dance-chillout-observe the ridiculous halloween outfits. No success- we went to the beach instead- and this is where my night got interested. There three girls, and four boys- all getting wasted on the beach. Drinks, rum etc. Someone coined me (drop a pence, you gotta save the queen- which means downing the drink), so I got even more wasted that I should. It was three in the morning and it was cold. Ofcourse I thought, why not taking a dip in the ocean.

Rid myself of all the past failures etc. Take a dip. A swim. In the ocean. At three in the morning.

I did. Just about everyone in our group were begging me to not do it, but I just proceeded, from what I can remember, to peel all articles of clothing with the exception of my undies- black bra and pink panties. O M F G. I went in. Took a short dip, decided it was far too cold...but realized I wanted to continue, but then realized again how worried everyone would be blah blah blah. So I came out. All of a sudden, the begging turned into cheering and I just felt so elated. See- no one else wanted to do it, for obvious reasons, but I was just so damn determined. I didn't care. No dignity spared- nada. I just went for it. And it was the best thing I did. For myself- get rid of all the hurt/pain and start fresh- and what better way to have the wonder healing powers of the cold, cold sea.

So we left, with Prince Akeem, the Nigerian guy who liked me, offering his sweater for warmth. Now I don't like him, and I was trying not to lead him on...sigh. Gotta work on this. Anyway-- left to a room to continue drinking and yea. Waited this breakfast (promtly at seven) to finish our night. Most of the guys dropped like sheep preferring sleep, so it was just me and this other, totally sweet girl who I will call Barbie becuase she isn't anything like Barbie. We ate. We left. I woke up at half nine- with Prince Akeem telling some folks of my...um...drunken antics. Adonis was shocked- and I knew he would be. Go- chase after your princess, I'll stand back and laugh. It's hilarious.

Anyway. Drive back home, totally tired- absolutely no sleep at all and talk to magsbags about the evening/morning. Then I get this from Prepster:

prepster: weak and pathetic
belle: what? why??
prepster: congratulations, you will now never ever be taken seriously by any of your fellow students, and once word makes it to the teaching ranks, they won't either
belle: i don't care. quite frankly, I don't give a shit as I've had a rough rough year.
prepster: ah, but see the problem is you HAVE to give a shit otherwise you will have many more rough year.

so i typed to magbags the following:

belle: can you -please tell your boyfriend that i am in no mood to be the recipient of his misplaced frustration.

I have NO idea what is up with that guy. Everytime I meet him, I end up resenting him and hating myself. I don't have a boyfriend- okay gotcha the first time. According to him, I don't spread my legs as easily which is why I am having issues. Way to make me feel like a piece of meat. Honestly, I am don't know how much more I can tolerate his bull shit. He is boring, has nothing to talk about and bitches that I am boring. Go fuck yourself. Who does he think he is typing such unfounded nonsense. I actually can't stand him anymore- he whines or talks about how I need to get laid. Annoyance. So after this message came up, I just blew it- I talked to magsbags earlier yesterday, and she agreed that it was way out of line.

So to add to this little drama, as soon as I returned Sunday evening, I get a panicked-ridden message from Angel's mom- apparently, her daughter hasn't turned in her disseration, is no where close to finishing it, and is falling apart in her flat. No sleep. Just a quick shower and a subway sandwich, and I'm on my way to her place to spend my next awaken evening trying to organize her life. Her kitchen- a total mess. It took nearly an hour to clean everything. Her paper? Scattered- it took nearly an hour and half to get herself on one page. Her will to live-nonexistent- it took the entire night to get her to divert her disappointment to her dissertation.

That was Sunday. Her Dissertation was due last Friday. It's now Tuesday.

I am really exhausted. No job applications sent in, need to make up all of October because god only knows what I am doing, have some hope with regards to the Russian, and walking into class to be greeted with the smiles of those who knew what happened earlier Sunday morning.

Sigh. That was my weekend.

Belle @ 124.1 lbs.

PS: for those concerned, I am on my period as well. Only two weeks after my last one. Fuck.

An Interesting Trend

2009-10-30T04:49:00.000-07:00

So, the good revealing about my crush on the Russian with Comrade is that we're on friendly terms again. After the party, I had a feeling that Comrade's girlfriend's insecurities might float back up to the surface, and it was only confirmed by Comrade's the not-so-subtle ignoring in class the past two days. So I did the same thing on Wednesday, only to send him a text saying that I realled his friend. According to me, I was only awkward because I was debating whether the Russian was cute or really cute, but concluded that he is, in fact, super cute.

Anyway. Met up with Comrade Thursday. He didn't give hints. No. No. Where would the fun in that be? He freaking TOLD the Russian. Fine, okay. Makes things easier I suppose. That would have been the case if not for the russian's sudden relocation to the North England. Yea. I know.

Comrade told me that the Russian is leaving this Saturday for an assignment that'll keep him posted there for 3-4 years!

So, dearest readers, you must admit that yours truly is definitely cursed. I can create a checklist of all the reasons why things never workout, but interestingly, this is the first time geographical relocation entered the picture. Bad timing? Bad Luck? No. Just cursed.

He added me on facebook just an hour after I met with Comrade.

So I told my two good friends about this, and their reactions...well spoke much about their personalities. The first, Angel as she will be called from here on out, is my dearest dearest friend from university. I love her, and she not only sympathized with me, but actually started laughing at the pathetic state of my love life. She gets it- and I love her for it. I wanted to cry again yesterday at the sheer frustration of it all, but instead, found a secret smoking spot near campus and started laughing with Angel by looking at my own life through a different lens.

The other is Magsbags. Essentially, I didn't really know the guy and there are many boys in London. You know, that answer is typical of Magbags, but I still didn't appreciate it in the least bit. Especially from someone who sleeps with a boy who's only been single for a week after breaking up with his girlfriend, our mutual friend, of two years. Magsbags maybe right about not knowing the guy or hey, being in a sea...but quantity never trumps quality. How many guys are cute and nice and funny and smart? Sure, I don't really know the Russian, but I trust my instinct with people- he seemed like a genuinely nice person. Secondly, you can tell alot about person through his/her friends- knowing Comrade is enough to vouch for his friend. Finally, I don't want quantity. Who cares about quantity?

I realize that in most of my posts about boys, I say something along the lines of..."but he is awesome yada yada yada...except for this this and this". This time, I just felt he was right. Mr. Right? I don't know...but don't you just get that vibe? Even now, I have this feeling that this story is not going to end- I'm never this optimistic about anyone, so the fact that I have a positive outlook speaks volumes about my feeling for this guy.

The thing is...he is nice. Actually genuinely nice. and funny. and a scorpio. fuck.

why does he have to move?

Belle at 125.8.

Oh Dear God

2009-10-28T15:14:00.000-07:00

I am fucking wasted out of my mind right now. Seriously. The machine said I was 126.6 this morning. Awesome

An entire day. One coffee. One latte. Three glasses of wine. I'm fucked. Literally fucked.

So Comrades' super cute russian friend didn't add me on facebook, but I foolishly decided to gush about him with prepster and magbags. Skip an hour, and a bottle and half of white, magbags is sending a text to Comrade from my cell phone asking him how is day was.

Ofcourse, Comrade has been avoiding me for the last two days because of his jealous girlfriend. Don't understand that seeing as I am NO thread whatsoever. Comrade is my friend, nothing more. Anyway, I pull off the same stunt today trying my best to pretend he ain't there. Well, apparently, when I'm drunk, all bets are off.

So Magsbags sends a text. And then, we parted ways. I spent nearly 25 pounds on dinner trying to sober myself up. Don't worry, it's all low fat med and japanese stuff. No worries. Anyway. So I sent a text outside of the brunswick center, very much intoxicated, telling Comrade that his friend, the Russian, is super fucking cute and asked if he was single. Let's not forget the ever elusive x mark.

So that's my story. I am wasted as I right this, no chance in hell am I going to belt out that cover letter....oh fucking hell. Fucking hell. Not working tonight madames.

Oh hey look. True Blood is on.

Your very inebriated Belle. x

Mother Russia!

2009-10-26T05:34:00.000-07:00

Belle's Lessons on Life, Edition 1.

Never, ever, play drinking games with Russians.

Ever.

You will be fucked off your face. They won't.

So last night, I decided to take my wallowing ass over to a friend's "light" birthday party and quickly realized that I was the ONLY person who experienced life outside the red curtain. Everyone was Russian. If not Russian, then Latvian/Ukranian. It was an Eastern European Extravanganza to the nines.

And it was so much fun.

I didn't care if anyone spoke about me in their mother tongue, I just drank...and drank...and drank...and drank some more. Sambuca, wine, and loads of vodka. Somehow, I'm painting a picture where everyone was equally drunk- Not. I was one of the few, and my God, did it show. Bitching about my professor and how he hates me (a); smoking in public and making Comrade swear an oath to never mention this to anyone (b); and breaking my rule of not speaking about Adonis to anyone from my university, let alone my course (c). There was more, but everything's just a bit too fuzzy for my liking.

Of course, no proper Russian party is without it's share of tall, thin, and pretty Russian girls. Fuck. I never felt fatter--that, coupled with my lousy week made for a severely inebriated Belle and it was fucking fabulous.

The people were as cool as they were eclectic. I finally met a vegetarian who turns out to be as obsessed with fashion as I am. Perhaps even more. She's an artist, and she's in the know with all the high fashion crowd in London. Actually made it to Fashion week backstage...I am so envious! I never got her number (too drunk to bother at this point), but this petite, tiny girl made me look like the first (and only) bohemoth of a vegan. Sigh. I know. Everythings always bittersweet when you're fat.

I'm not really sure how I got home-- oh wait, I vaguely remember a cab (and not having to pay for it), and stumbling up four flights of stairs only to remember that Comrade lives with his girlfriend, and his girlfriend and I share the same birthday...only a year apart. She's older.

And, apparently, she is the jealous type. Fuck. I do not want a repeat of senior year when my ex-good friend's girl friend's friends decided that I need to leave the picture. I can't keep losing friends because I'm single. This sucks balls.

The great thing about parties is that you meet cute boys. There was one, well educated, young russian who's currently working south of London. He was hot actually, and as the night kept going, I just wanted to kiss more and more. I didn't, but I should have. Old college-mate of Comrade, and I really want to meet him again. My tarot reader said that there's a possibility with a guy who's working- and that I meet him through friends. I know what you're thinking- Belle, you rely on your tarot reader a tad too much. After the Adonis incident, I'm not questioning this lady. I should have asked if I was ever going to lose weight. Next time, next time.

There was another young man-- an economic consultant who was cute with drunk goggles on, but definitely hit the sleaze button as the clock ticked. I do not want to go to British Luxury Club with you sir, but thanks anyway. He might have been a possibility had he been less slimy- he wreaked of Russian low-level mafia-ness, and I'm afraid I'm just not into becoming a heroin addicted whore. Sorry fella, I'll stick to what I do best- pretending to be a whore. Ha ha ha. Actually, by all definitions, I'm anything but one.

Anyway.

There's nothing more insightful to add except that last week, I purged. There, I admitted that. That and I'm 127.8 this morning. Man. I'm starting to hate this number. I really am.

Anyway, head's still a bit woozy-- managed to keep down 400 calories of soup without going totally haywire.

God I hate hangovers.

Oh yes- I've decided to stay the fuck away from grocery stores. There's a chirpy happy-go-lucky guy downstairs who sells produce- and in the early evenings, the guys gives me double of what I asked for just so the fruits don't rot. All for a pound. I know. It's awesome, and I'm staying away from Waitrose. Too much money down the drain, and I'm all about counting these days. That and there's no temptation to buy things thinking I'll ration them out over the term. Knowing me, I'll eat it all in like 20 minutes.

Belle

Six of Cups

2009-10-24T13:37:00.000-07:00

So...where do I start?

This week has been an emotional rollercoaster. Let's make a checklist, because I love making pointless checklists. Lists, lists, lists. Anyway, on with the story.

1. Prof hates me. Check.

2. Most people thing I'm an idiot. Check.

3. I'm attractive. Check.

4. Comrade has a girlfriend. Check.

5. Adonis has a girlfriend.

Check.

I cried when I found out. No wonder he was so aloof the first few weeks: he talked to everyone in the course...everyone except me. So I got the hint (before I knew about his relationship), and socialized with everyone else as well. Unfortunately, everyone else isn't a mutually exclusive thing since the group is so small. That is...until, this week. Slowly, but surely, I somehow convinced him that I'm not interested in him, but really I am as I accidentally-on-purpose try to sit near him when possible, and he started talking to me again. Man, I'm a great actress.

Anyway. Most of my curiousity stems from the fact that he eerily reminded me of someone, and I couldn't quite peg who. Of course, that wasn't until a couple days ago when we all went out for lunch, and I ate out knowing that that meal was the last one for the day, and we all...just...you know...chatted. Chatted about pointless things, until Adonis left for class. Skip two hours and my desperate attempts at finding a decent place to work on campus, and lo-and-behold, I run into Adonis. We talked for what seemed like eternity, but in fact was all of 10 minutes. Okay, 10 long, very cold minutes. I wasn't cold at all actually (hahaha). He's fun. He's damn cute. He's sexy. He's a Gemini with a Cancer moon. My tarot reader called that only a week before stating that our relationship would only be platonic, and that I should avoid him, and that he loves watery things, and that he is not Cancer sun, but Cancer moon (moon signs describe emotional states, very important) and that I would have issues with this. That, and apparently, a strong female figure in his life back home. That strong figure, I surmise, is his girlfriend. A pretty, thin, blond european girlfriend to whom I am no match- regardless of what other people see me as (pretty, attractive, beautiful, all of which I high doubt, but that's the word these days).

In three days, I bought three packs of smokes and I am still puffing away at the moment. Well, earlier anyway. Unbelievable. Unbelievable that my tarot reader caught this, and unbelievable that I thought he would be single. Of course he isn't single.

Why is it that I pick unavailable men? Why? I doubt I'll get an answer to this soon, which is why a jar(s) of peanut butter and nutella sit clean and washed, because your's truly has derailed from her diet. I bought a scale yesterday. It's pretty and told me that I was 126.8. This was after I had a big lunch of pasta with my cute, but definitely gay, German friend. He may not be gay, but he is way too effeminate for my tastes. We'll call him Chrissy. Funny, he's blond too.

Anyway.

As far as single men go, I've crossed out Chrissy and Bullfish. The latter for his general American-ness that just irks me in ways I don't have time to describe. He's nice a kid, but too jock-ish. This is my problem, I find issues with all available men and place all taken ones on a pedastal. Isn't that lovely for me? Yes, I quite agree that I've cornered myself. I am my own enemy.

But, for the first time in many years, I've cried over a boy who didn't even have to reject me. Maybe this is karma. There was this boy I worked with during my stint at a gym (i never returned after I quite, hated my boss), and he liked me. I didn't think he was cute initially, but he grew on me. But that was never entirely the reason for the unrequited affections. Neither was my parents absolute refusal of me dating anyone. I just knew...that he could do better. I still wanted to be his friend, continued to be so until I quite that job. I was leading him on, and that;s something I didn't realize until I graduated. In retrospect, I actually really liked him, but that was the same year I had pretty lucid dreams about.

Sigh. about what?

I don't recall ever mentioning this on my blog, but I guess there's no time like now to divulge. Since the eight grade, every two years, I go through a period where my dreams become so impossibly real, I wake up in sweat. It's not like I'm dreaming, it's more like I'm half-awake recalling a rather disturbing, but I swear on my life, real incident. Geez. I'm have trouble writing this.

Let's start with what didn't happen, or at least what I think didn't happen. I wasn't raped.

I was visiting my aunt's place one summer. It was unbearably hot, and I wanted to sleep in an air conditioned room. My uncle's room was just this cold, artic zone that my yester, nine-year-old found safe refuge from the blistering, intolerable heat. This is where the dream takes place. It's a cold room, there were hints of green coming from the window and I was lying still, almost dead, pretending to sleep as I felt someone's hands.

I know this is real, because I remember sleeping with my mother the following night. She asked me if I could tolerate the heat, and I said I didn't care too much.

And that was second year at university. How can something so trivial continue to haunt me so much? It came to the point where I kept thinking that no one should touch me ever again, and yet, paradoxically, I wanted to be held. Comforted. To be in the arms of someone stronger and kinder than myself. I let go of this boy, knowing that he would find someone better. He did.

I was happy for him.

It comes as a surprise, that years later, I would run into someone who reminds me so much of this boy. The first boy who truly liked me. The first boy I rejected. The same smile, the same demeanor...all of it, the same.

Fate is taunting me. My mistakes have never been so illuminated as they are now. I was better off knowing that Adonis was avoiding me. Now, we have congenial conversations, but I know it will always be platonic. What goes around comes around.

I cried Thursday night. This will be the third time I've cried over a boy, and it's not getting any easier with age.

Do I want him to breakup with his girlfriend for me? No. I don't want to be that "other" girl ever- I can't cause pain to someone innocent. I am getting way ahead of myself. Who am I to think Adonis likes me?

Anyway. This blog has really veered off in an unknown direction. Well, I lost weight and none of my tights fit me. They drag down as I walk and I hate having to buy new ones. Especially in the pound. I hate that the dollar is, once again, depreciating against the pound. Fuck. I haven't applied to any big banks, I haven't done much of anything actually. Just watching TV and smoking away my, now, hemorrhaging bank account.

As always, less food in the fridge...but then I seem to always eat out. Fuckkkkkk.

Atleast I'm sticking to my one meal a day plan. Excluding tea.

Ugh.

Belle

Being Right

2009-10-19T13:46:00.000-07:00

My professor thinks I'm an idiot.

No really, he does.

It was so obvious today, I can't believe it actually happened.

There's only about 40 kids in the program, so when you raise your hand to answer a question, it's very visible. That was me today. I knew the answer. This isn't...I sort of know, but not really, but I'll give it a shot anyway...this was, I KNEW the answer.

I raised my hand. So did the guy in front of me. But said guy always answers questions, and in the spirit of "sharing the air", I should have been picked. I wasn't. Our prof actually hesitated--as in, took a couple seconds--when decided who to call on. It was me or the guy in front of me, both in clear view, both with an equal of chance of getting the answer right...or wrong.

No one answered correctly. At the end, our prof answered his own question, and it was exactly what I was about to say.

Demoralizing? Yes. Irritated? Yes. Fuming? Very much so.

I look like an idiot. Maybe I am, which begs the question: why the fuck was I ever chosen to enter this program? I don't belong here, but then where do I belong?

Belle

Nonsensical Drabble

2009-10-18T14:54:00.000-07:00

I am scared.

Really, really scared.

My life as a salaried woman is edging closer and closer, and I have yet to figure out where I want to be. Finance? Consulting? Foreign Service? Fashion...? Honestly, my hands are tied and I need someone to sort this out for me, because clearly, I'm not doing a great job of sorting things out. Despite my virgo rising.

The tarot reading yesterday threw me for a loop. A big, winding labyrinth even. Of course, the more I stress, the more I eat. Ice cream, to BK fries, milkshakes, I have gained weight and popping laxatives isn't helping in the least bit. An entire pack of cigs gone in a day. I just. UGH.

Ms. Tarot lady, who was very literate in the ways of banking, told me that my life in sales and trading would be great initially, but would, surprise surprise, narrow my opportunities later on. This is not news as plenty of consultants in the area have said the same. Perhaps I being too idealistic about my "dream" job. Another point that was raised during said session. Consulting? Good, but not my interest. Foreign service? Great, but low pay. FUCK FUCK FUCK.

Where do I go? Where do I start? When will this happen. My future is uncertain, but according to la mere, just like the out-of-the-blue acceptance to this program, my job will sort itself out when the time comes. Man. Why. I never ever have options, just one choice that I'm forced to follow. God I'm sorry. I'm rambling, and I don't have a clear point of view right now.

However, the one good thing that came out of this session is knowing that this is where I am supposed to be. This program, this university. There is no self-doubting, self-deprecating anymore. I can't worry about not getting into the proper finance program, because this is the program I'm supposed to be in. Like some mysterious force has worked it's ways to make me be part of this course so that I'm forced to meet people that I am meeting right now, and forced to engage in academic discourse that apparently, will change my career path.

I make no sense right now. It's cool. I wasted this weekend watching Roswell and Friends and Scrubs. What the fuck is wrong with me? There is so much to be done, so little time and I'm waffling doing jack-squat and eating. Eating eating eating. I can't stop it!

To make matters worse, I think I like Comrade. The one I talked about in 'Pound Perfect'. Yup, the smart one. In his own way, he is cute...and incredibly nice....and has a steady girlfriend.

What. the. fuck. is. wrong. with. me.

Why. do. I. go. for. unattainable. men.

Why? His birthday is tomorrow and I'm actually calling up friends to celebrate it. Small cake and the works. Drinks. Etc. Why? He is smart and nice. I like smart and nice. But smart and nice comes with a girlfriend attached. Why do I always play the femme fatale? Why?

In class, I just wonder towards him since...I know feel like I know him best. Closer. I don't know. It's come to a point where I'm making a concentrated effort at getting to know other people, as opposed to just fixating on this invidual. I'm horrible.

I hope I never meet his girlfriend. I saw her once from a distance, when Comrade walked hand-in-hand with her. I walked passed, feiging ignorance.

So that's my life, turned upside-down in a matter of 24 hrs. Shit. Fuck. And any other expletives you can think of.

Belle

On Whore-dom

2009-10-15T16:53:00.000-07:00

"Let's be honest now. You don't have much experience in banking, let alone finance, so I wouldn't recommend IBD [investment banking], but you would be good in sales. Let's be even more honest, and un-pc, clients wouldn't mind talking to an attractive lady."

Fuck me.

So this lovely excerpt hails from a brief conversation I had with a gentleman from an unnamed French bank. Apparently, I would be a great addition to a sales and trading team.
I want to be a corporate whore. Essentially, that's what this guy was eluding to. Essentially, it's a ridiculously high-paying, high-flying career that would satiate my materialistic side but would seriously compromise my moral compass. Not that the one I have is any working condition, but, occasionally, it does point north. Occasionally.

Anyway. Prostitution aside, the chances of getting in anywhere for an equity sales position are ridiculously slim. Equity sales? What's that? Selling financial products regarding company shares. That's my interpretation of it, and if any of you have a better idea, please comment. The more information I have the better. See, I decided that that's my place in bank as soon as I talking to this guy from this bank at this fair that happened this week. In a matter of an hour, I went from clueless to clued-in, with higher-ups at one particular Swiss bank praising me on my "focused" approach to banking. Hah. If only you knew pal, if only. Sigh.

Anyway. I've narrowed down the places I want to work at, now it's time to actually apply-- sending in the dreaded resume/cover letters. Time for all of this huzabaza? No idea. Gentle readers, yours truly has been submerged under a schedule that reads like a frat rush- minus the beer, plus the suits. And it really is a frat rush. No joke.

Atleast I look good. My self-image for the last ten years has been that of the fat girl in high school. Even now, I only see this lovely bohemoth. Clearly, I am not. Don't get me wrong, I have a long way to go, but when I bought a black skirt the other day, I asked for a UK Size 10 but the lady looked at me all strange- instead giving me a size 8 saying that the fit would be better. It was perfect, and I was down 60 pounds. Love the student discounts, hate the exchange rate. The point of this tangent (my posts are all lovely tangents), is that I don't look as terrible as I feel. Hmm. Need to work on confidence. Must not get intimidated by suits.

Speaking of intimidation, I'm over Adonis. That was blissfully short-lived parce-que said frenchman is really, really aloof. Like, doesn't bother to get to know anyone. It's hard to not undress him, mentally that is, but it IS hard to get to know him. Right, screw you sir, even if you are drop dead gorgeous. Sigh.

What else? I went into Joy Clothing today, and saw these beautiful lace leggings. I'm all about lace, so I just HAD to try it on...and quickly realized that Extra small was the better fit. Fuck me. Am I really walking that much? My legs are tinier than I imagined, inspite of the junk and multiple visits to YO! Sushi. Gotta love the walking, gotta love it. So I'm dropping weight, and I only hope that continues. It probably will, giving my propensity to just effing lose my way everytime I hit the streets. Seriously, a couple blocks and the directional compass center of my brain just goes haywire. Ugh, good for legs/love handles, bad for time management. Something I really need to improve on.

Last, but definitely not the least, the flatmate. I'll just give her the name, the flatmate. I know, so original. So sue me.

She's nice. Hasn't said anything about my smoking, which is a luxury. However, my room is so small that it's hard to work in there; hence why I drag my work downstairs...but she is all into keeping the house "homey". I'm like, it's one fucking year, keep things practical and simple. No need to splurge on unnecessary household items. I guess I'm just into clothes and shoes and all things wearable. Outfitting the house, especially if it's not my own house, is totally unnecessary. She insists on going to IKEA, to which we are going come Sunday, and buying nonsensical shit like frames and the like. I'm going along, paying for some of it...but honestly. It's crazy. There's this desk downstairs and a glassed cupboard in our room. It's empty, so I just put my books in etc. So there are packets and it looks a bit messy, buts it's CLOSED IN. Omgod, I am going through all my paper and sorting it out as we speak to make things look "homey" just to accomodate for this insanity. It's an apartment, we are students. Sigh. I'll go along with it. I can understand leaving a mess on the side tables etc, but inside cupboards? There too? OH dear.

I guess I live like a whore. Ha ha ha.

Annoyances. I think I'll go sleep for a bit. Waste more time. Tomorrow afternoon, I'm heading out to the tarot reader. Nice. Another 30 pounds down the drain. Sigh.

Belle.

Wandering

2009-10-10T13:37:00.000-07:00

Food is fucking expensive in this city. Honestly. Another reason to just, you know, not eat. Unfortunately, that's not really an option.

The sheer amount of walking I do on a daily basis actually astounds me. From class to Oxford street all the way back home, under 200 calories or less...is possible, but not fun. Not fun at all. Still, I credit my frugal ways as my jeans suddenly feel a lot less tighter than they were a couple weeks ago. I just need to wear a belt. Otherwise, my back side ain't pretty.

Which brings me to my point for cet post. Walking, and the magical powers of unconcious calorie-burning. I don't use the tube. Nope. I walk everywhere, rain or shine (or both), often risking the dryness factor of my jeans in order to not waste little coins (let alone bills) I have. The best part is, I see what makes London...London.

Just yesterday, I headed out to the Royal Mail delivery office to pick up lovely, totally awesome, GHDs...(hair straigtheners). Had I used the tube, it would have a been a quick trip...but I would have missed the antique bookstore along the way. I just wandered into this small shop, right in front of the British Museum no less, and much like what you see in the movies, it's so quaint and old, normal office-workers would just passby. Walked past and not noticed the beauty of Victorian era books. The smell, oh the smell, of antiquity just brings alive the Dickensian books and the many hard-bound, often intricately detailed engravings, that so inspire the look of estate libraries.

You don't have these in the West Coast. There may be a few, but the culture is missing. Sigh. I don't ever want to return. Ever.

So what else is going on in my life? Over the jetlag...not over Adonis. So cute, and so cultured. He know's his wine! (Ha ha ha). Apparently, after google-stalking him earlier today, he started a wine business in his home town. Oh dear. It's unfortunate because we are now in different social groups...I know. SO high school right? But it happens. Talking to him is a luxury that I don't have time for...as you all already know, this one is trying to find a job.

Yup, in my almost embarassingly desperate efforts in attaining a sizeable salary, I attended a consultancy fair last week and hopefully, made an impression with two firms. The weird part is that I went in hoping to be floored by BCG (google it), but sadly, was totally shattered by the ignorance and arrogance, the worst combination of them all, of the employees who turned up. Not only did the guy I was talking to not read publications that his firm is produces, but he just seemed really apathetic to the whole ordeal of conversing with us students. You know, the ones the future depends on. Right.

Overall, I've selected the ones I'm applying to but am still skeptical with my chances of getting in. I don't know. Doubts, worries...yours truly is aiming too high. I should be applying to banks, but somehow, I just don't have any interest in I-banking. It's just so...boring. Sigh. Why am I studying my subject again? Oh right, to get a job.

Man. Between readings (and I will get to how competitive I'm becoming), job hunting, numerical-test studying, and cleaning the flat...time just flies. Flies. So anyway...about my class.

Earlier last week, we had a private application/information session wiht a top top European bank. The class had a chance to converse with some of the new recruits, and I had some one-on-one time with one of them. As I was discussing the usual, I noticed the Asian, nay, Chinese delegation edging closer and closer to my little circle I created with said recruit. Now, I don't mind that in the least bit. But when you fucking interupt me, and just have no conversation etiquette what so ever when it comes to group dialogue, I get mad. Plain and simple, I just fume.

Maybe it's the cultural difference...but interrupting is so so so so rude. What else is rude? The hard-typing. This, top-to-bottom gaudily dressed designer labeled Chinese girl was sitting next to me at computer lab the other day and was literally punching the key board so hard, I could tell when she was starting new paragraphs. Gentle people, gentle. This isn't an old fashioned Qwerty board for God-sake and we aren't in the 1960s. Geez louise.

I sound like a hater.

I'm sorry. But wouldn't you be annoyed?

That was rhetorical but say yes anyway.

Sigh...

Nothing else in my life is new. Except for the arrival of not one, but two, YSL touche eclats. Two months without these wands and my life was just so...empty. My morning routine was a disarray without the blending and the dabbing of the ethereal liquid.

Anyway. The blogworld is so silent...or maybe, I just lost many of my readers. Oh dear me. Oh dear me indeed.

Why am I even posting anymore? Sigh, I don't know.

Ugggggh.

Belle

Pound Perfect

2009-10-03T11:56:00.000-07:00

I am in London.

Let me repeat this once again just in case you didn't read it correctly the first time around....

I AM IN LONDON!

hOLY **********

Anyway...now that that's out of my system.

So what exactly am I doing here? Well I am studying finance in the greatest city in the western world, with the great exception of San Francisco, and I am fucking starve to my hearts content. Where do I even begin?

Let's start with the walk, not the tube ride, but walk, to school. Twenty minutes speeding, Twenty Five brisk, Thirty casual stroll. That's just ONE WAY! Two train stops away from uni isn't worth the money, and quite frankly, I need the free exercise. Why? The local gym costs 650 pounds for the year, money I do have, but time I clearly don't have. Funny huh?

I'll be spending most of my hours in the (A) library (b) interviews (c) volunteering or (d) sleeping. The last option is if I can get through the first three successfully. The gym price is expensive for it is, but I'll leave that till next term when things settle down on the job front. Speaking of jobs....I can't believe how soon everything is happening. Deadlines for banks are this month, and I have no idea where I am applying!!!

I definitely want to be here. Definitely. However, these last couple of days...I've been strangely missing home. The life and ease/comfort that came with the quiet living of the Bay Area. A case of stockholm syndrome? Je ne sais pas, mais there is life after seclusion...and clearly, it's one where I talk...alot. Rubbish mostly, but I hope I haven't been branded the class chatterbox. Oh dear, it's probably too late.

My class...a different vibe than what I felt at my undergrad. I was even mistaken for an undergrad. Really, no kidding! Even better...someone thought I was brazilian. Hah! Thanks buddy, that's really a compliment, but sadly...I'm not. Sigh. It's funny how people pick every country but my own to peg my nationality. I guess I'm just a natural citizen of the world.

Speaking of Planet Earth, our class is a small microcosm of the world. The department is severely outnumbered with the ratio skewing towards the male species (humans and ducks alike), but the countries represented in our stream alone just baffle me. I've been to an internationally diverse university, but there is no clique-ness here. It's truly a mix of people from around the world. It's nice.

What else is nice? There is eye candy. Amongst the friendly, geeky, nerdy folks (like myself)...there is light at the end of the tunnel in the form of a frenchman who is quite literally, the divine adonis. I'm so serious. The sad part is that he is, perhaps, quite unattainable.

No girlfriend. But I'm still not in the running at all. Oh well.

But here is the thing I always do: I just avoid or not talk or become the quiet shy girl who doesn't party. WRONG WRONG WRONG. He asked me if I was going to the postgrad party a couple nights ago, and I was like, rather stupidly, I'm sorry but I have alot of work to do. I actually did, but never got around to it because of my affinity to sleep. I am so so stupid. Why do I do a clear 180 with people I start liking...see I'm already obsessing over it, and I barely know the guy! It's all based on his french accent and his oh-so-touch ably-soft flocks of earthly brown hair. Fuck. Am in deep already? I need to stop. I am here to get a job, study and bank the bank. Anyway, last weekend we had prep courses, and I saw him...but didn't really say much and I he didn't feel like talking to me either. Go figure, Belle. You avoid, he avoids.

Apart from Adonis, there is Bull. I will call him Bull because he is a fucking Bull. He starts the conversation with me by inquiring after a gym. As if I'd know, so I just gave me the most expensive one in the city just because I was irritated by his very presence. Be normal, don't be a douche. God. He has the quintessential American, tough boy jock attitude with the "I want to get into Stanford Law and I will be an investment banker" and yada yada yada. Like, geez...trying to impress everyone with his plan. Get real buddy. It's just a plan. He went to some rural state school back home, "took time off for a couple of years (try three) to "find himself", and now is an enlightened greedy moneysucker who was nothing more in life than false prestige and pocket squares.

So a couple days ago, the class went out for drinks and I stayed out quite late to just hang out with people my own age for a change. The night went on, numbers dwindled, until it was just the four of us, Bull included, Adonis excluded (much to my chagrin)...and that's when I decided I want to leave. So I did, and the others followed suit because it really was getting late...and ofcourse Bull just chugs his drink (uggghh...), and follows. Then he needs something to eat. Okay. If I can go a day walking around London for seven hours followed by two glasses of white wine sans breakfast lunch and dinner, then surely you can survive the night...until you get home and figure out what to eat on your fucking time. SO fine. We go this place I used to like for fast food, and I assured him that it was good to which he replies, rather loudly, "well, it's time to get deflowered". Geez. What planet is HE FROM? Check the American attitude at immigration sir, you are in polite society. Granted, people are often far more crass, but an American accent just makes things worse I think. Anyway. He then asks, after like 1/2 hour of walking trying to search for a decent meal..."let's go sit somewherE". Where you fool? On the steps by the river. It's freezing out here. Ugh, so we walk more while he eats, and answers/asks questions with hsi mouth OPEN. Okay. Talk or eat. Not both. Or just cover your mouth. OMG. Okay. So we finally walk to a common tube station where everyone can find connections, and I just have had enough of him by now (there was more to his behavior, but the written word will not do enough justice I'm afraid) so I just quietly and quickly inform the party that I'm walking home. In the dark. Safe? Not sure, but one more minute with this lunatic and the torture session would have reached the breaking point. So I left, and walked with only the quiet sounds of Zero 7 and the shiny lights that drape this city.

So that's him. Then there is this other kid, who I will now call Comrade, who is super smart and incredibly nice. Oxbridge Economics. I know. Intimidated? Slightly. Anyway, he was in the first group of people I talked to in our course induction, and somehow, along with a few others, we became part of that group of people who always lingered after lectures...just talking. However, after my past experiences of treating my guy friends like my girl friends, I can NOT lead him on. I only just realized this today, and I will try my best not to. Why is it so hard to have a good male friend these days without everyone, male friend included, assuming you like him. He has a girlfriend, and I just don't see him that way. Oh dear. Lesson learned.

Anyway. There is loads to see and do in London, but yours truly will be stuck in the library for God only knows how long because I need to have a salary in a year and...leave with a decent degree. Fuck.

Do you see how this post just from optimistic to pessimistic in just a couple paragraphs? Yup, my moods are equally mercurial. My answer is smoking.

I have started. My flatmate has no clue, or at least I think she has no clue. You see, I sneak out in the early morning or late night (because, you know, this cat doesn't sleep anymore and term hasn't even started) to puff my through stress, stress and even more stress. Did I mention that term hasn't even started? Yea, I know.

After being bombarded with the severity of the job market all of last week, there will be a point this term where I will tumble over and just, oh I don't know, sleep forever. Jeez. This post has officially entered the realms of insanity. Nonsensical ramblings of a girl who is officially overwhelmed. Retarded even, but definitely overwhelmed.

I am getting tired just thinking about.

Until the next time, and I have no idea when that will be, I'm alive and very much breathing. Don't worry folks, I haven't disappeared. I'm still here.

bSve

Nonsensicalness

2009-09-19T22:02:00.000-07:00

I feel like there is much to say about life. And sometimes, I don't.
These days, I'm not sure under which category I fall under most. La pere is on the phone right now trying, oh so desperately, to prevent another catastrophic tragedy from happening: salvaging what remains of our family from the last wedding. You'd think such grand displays of connection would bring together the community. Our community. Instead, the divisive qualities of politics eventually creep into to tear asunder what little bond I had with many of my cousins.

My eldest on my fathers side...well, unmarried at 25 is considered blasphemous in the Motherland, so imagine being a bachelor at 35. It's really an unforgiving culture, and ultimately, Bachelor is doing something...rather characteristic of those who are about to leave this world: settle their affairs. Fuck. Maybe I have a drama bone attached to my ulner nerve...hopefully. Damn. And I can't do anything about it. He swore off his mother's family (our side).

So what does this all have to do with me you ask? As I hear about the arguments downstairs, I stare at my smaller waistline and my growing thighs. This is what happens when you stop running and up the ante on ab excercises. Shit monkey. My thighs touch just that much more which is a clear sign this...not checking the weighing scale bullshit is not working.

It's been two weeks since I scaled myself. I know. With my period just a day or two from ending, I wonder what I am. My jeans fit fine, but my graduation dress from last year...is suprise, suprise, tighther. The fabric stretches uncomfortably across my legs....creating folds that make a size 4 seem too small for my frame. Fuck. Yes, I'm a dress size 4 apparently. Well, used to be anyway.

I bought a new tarot set. It's beautiful. Universal Waite. Far softer in tone, but richer in detail. While the Rider-White is organic, certain aspects of certain cards are far more pronounced. A few nights ago, I officially inducted the cards as my official deck of choice...but only after destroying my previous set. As you remember, I blamed my mother for losing the Ace of Hearts...

I cut each card into four pieces. Don't ask me why, I just did it. At exactly halfway, I cut into a pentacle card...and realized there was another card underneath. It was the Ace of Hearts...hidden in plain sight. Devastated? Suprisingly....no. I was upset....and shocked. I counted this deck atleast ten times...and I never saw it. Sigh. It was meant to happen. It was 17th of September...the hardest day of the year.

I don't what I am rambling about. I'm just typing mindlessly hoping something some of this makes sense. I am really scared to check the weighing scale. Fuck.

Oh what am I doing?

I leave for London on the 26th. Emptying out my room...once again.

Sigh.

bSve

Bloody Mary's

2009-09-10T23:34:00.000-07:00

Wouldn't it be great to be a vampire? You'd be young and hot and deliciously sexy all the fucking time. Scratch that, I'd be young and hot and deliciously fucking sexy all the fucking time. What more could a girl want? Well...apart from money that is. It's always nice to have a fat bank account. The only kind of fat that's acceptable.

Vampire Diaries premiered a couple hours ago, and contrary to my long-held opinion on high school vampire lomances, cough "love" + romance cough, it was entertaining. You'll have to excuse my initial distrust at anything high-school vampire lust, excuse me "love", plotlines because, clearly, it can go so very very wrong. Now, I won't pretend to have read the series, but surely...they HAVE to be better than Twilight. Anything is better than Twilight. My fourth grade fiction is better than Twilight...and, incidentally, would give Lost a run for it's money. Abrams, I think you stole my idea.

So anyway. Being vampire must be awesome. I don't need sunlight. It's far too overrated. SO check one: no sunlight. Hmmm...what else? Oh yes, the obvious one: I wouldn't mind being paler. My combination i.e oily-can-tan-easily epidermis could use a color-lift. So translucent skin: check. Lastly, I wouldn't mind be a bloodivore. Yes, you heard me. Bloodivore. If one should take que from vampire fiction, it should follow that blood does not a fat person make. If that's the case, then please, where do I sign up?

Actually, I'd prefer if I lived the True Blood Universe. That way, I'd have Eric make me and I'd would gladly engage in incest...if it means to be lovely Eric's....okay, that's enough of that.

Sigh.

Belle

2009-09-07T21:42:00.000-07:00

I am, in so many words, very average.

The trip to the motherland, this seemingly exotic yet wonderfully nostalgic homeland of mine gave me a few, novel shocks that will, most likely, change the way I perceive food for the rest of my (hopefully short) life.

I grew up in that country then boarded a plane at the tender age of 8 to find ridicule and an american accent in lovely California. The next few years saw few, spaced out returns to my native land...but high school came. I've since gained much ignorance (and fat) to realize that my own self-worth is astoundingly bloated, and much like my period, I needed a longass gulp of diet pepsi relieve myself.

It's been eight years since I returned to my childhood city. Many say much has changed, but it really, it hasn't. I have, however, removed my rose-colored glasses and started to understand my surrounding a bit differently. Be it age, be it maturity, be it being a 130 lbs 5'5'' bohemoth...I felt like Goliath with several thousand David's walking the streets with their size 0 jeans and protruding collar bones.

I've said this before, but for the first time, I'm not fishing for pity or disaggreement: I am fat. And I have no excuse for being so.

My own mother was a 110 lbs after she gave birth to me, and I'm complaining about gaining a pound? What made my revelation of my own pathetic, stretch-mark ridden state even more pronounced was when I attended my cousins wedding. I looked older than many of the girls my age. Being skinny is a natural age-defying treatment. Being asked if I was my mother's younger sister was mortifying.

People in this country are generally very very very slim. 5'5'' and 115 lbs is considered "fat", and I felt like a total American-- excpet I know better than to say that I'm "big boned".

But still, like everyone else, I'm average. I just want to be skinny while I am at it.

Was it even possible to lose weight? No. With many grandma's and grandpas, aunts and uncles...all mingling in small spaces, it was hard to skip anything, let alone the cup of full-fat white coffee. And yet...

I haven't gained or lost any weight. Despite eating regularly, without counting anything and without weighing anything (including myself).

I returned late August...and have since concluded that every moment I spend worrying about my weight, I spend equal moments eating. I'm not sure what to do now. Can I still lose weight? Will I ever be 110? These doubts ring through my head more loudly than ever before, but this time, I'm trying to figure what's real and what's not.

Sigh.

The Cat is Vacay-ing it!

2009-08-01T10:49:00.000-07:00

Happy August my little bitches. Summer is nearly done, and I'm off to the motherland!

Have fun kiddos, hope you miss me!

bSve

Shopdrop

2009-07-30T22:45:00.000-07:00

It's definitely a tell-tale sign that I'm growing older (and none the wiser) when I can't even break a six hour shopping trip. Nay, extravanganza.

Sorry, pops. I set you back close to 450, soon to be 500 dollars. I'm breaking in your new paychecks now that you have an uber cool job as vp of a startup. I know, I'm really excited for him as well! He's working with (not for, with) his partner in crime for a longtime now to build this new company. Sigh, la pere, if only I had your creativity...and ingenuity!

Two days, and the Holy Trinity of bargain grabs: Loehmans, TJ Maxx and Marshalls.

Dresses for ten bucks! What a deal! Tops for half? What a steal!

Seriously, my shopping for le travel pour le motherland has been freakishly tiring, but my wardrobe has finally gotten it's long-awaited zephr. Maybe it's the fact that I'm leaving this place in 1.5 months, but I feel like my sense of style has woken from it's deep slumber.

My next assignment: a pair of reefs and a strapless bra. There's an entire schedule planned out for tomorrow (something I certainly haven't done in well over a year), with my alarm going off at 7:30 sharp.

I really hope my dad is blind to the ginormous bill. If questioned, I'll just casually mention that I'd rather buy clothes here than in the UK. Less expensive. Sigh.

I'm still fucking tired. Exhausted. 4 hours yesterday, 6 today. Coupled with the fact that I don't like to eat ANYTHING while I shop (tummy is flatter, more calories burned), I had my moments in the dressing rooms today. Weakness? Definitely. Dizziness? Most Certainly. At one point, I didn't know if I could drive even...

Anyway. Kudos for me. I shopped for the next few weeks and the new few months. Sigh.

I did splurge on a super cute bag and this AMAZING Moschino cheap/chic silk scarf (total steal, I love you Loehmans). It has a girl dancing in the rain. I know, I know. I couldn't help myself. My grubby fingers (skinny, but grubby. the only part of me that's skinny) were way toooo fast. I love scarves.

Jean size? Proper 27. A size four in premium denim.

I will continue to just not eat all that much. Although, for anyone who has an ODD sweet/salty craving, may I recommend: ritz crackers (low fat) and soy vanilla ice cream as the dip. It's strange, but satisfying. A 100-200 calorie meal that really does fill you up.

Right-o. Time to sleep. I really need it.

bSve

Wholesome Foods

2009-07-28T20:05:00.000-07:00

Well hello there.

Wello!

Well + Hello = Lame-o!

Har har har.

So. What. am. I. up. to?

Nothing much sadly, nothing much.

Uncharacteristic move today: I went to Whole Foods. Be careful, this place is dangerous...for the wallet AND the hips. If you aren't extra vigilant, you might lose track of both.

Anyway. I went and meandered over to the cooked meals section. I moved away from disgusting tummy filling stuff and went to the prepared salads section. Yes, I caved and bought $4.00 worth of salads. At Whole Foods, it means I bought a palm of leaves. Tasty leaves, but leaves none-the-less. Am I happy? Yes. I got the recipes online and will refrain from entering this soul-destroying megaplex of goodies.

In other news. Some of you (savory) have developed a great way to talk about food without scaring off your reader base. If you don't mind, I'll be employing your methods. Well. Even if you do, I'll be using it anyway =).

My dad often asks for ice cream. Upon recent investigation, I discovered the merits of the soy, non-dairy substitutes...and boy are they an uncanny resemblance to their predecessors! My father, the picky one, couldn't even make out the difference. Half the calories per serving and tastes awesome. Who knew?

Anyway. Nothing much to report. Boring week. Day off tomorrow. More shopping.

Oh yes!

Guys, I love writing. I do. I also love reviewing. Write + Reviewing = yelp

now, i'm adding this as a warning...i do review restaurants from time to time. i don't get into too much detail, but please read at your discretion. my site is http://www.bellesvelte.yelp.com/. let me know what you think!!!

bSve

It's too damn hot

2009-07-26T21:44:00.000-07:00

Sun, you're killing me softly with your rays. So...please. Stop.

God it was hot. Enough to melt away the calories? No...but I've been upping the water intake. I've moved on from Arizona zero cal teas to Crystal Light Diet Peach Green Tea powders. I just have this 1/2 gal used-to-be-tea-drink carton that is now my make-shift water bottle. I feel like I'm drinking beer. Minus the beer gut. Ew for beer guts.

Tomorrow I'm shopping for cheap clothes to take to my motherland...as I'm vacationing/working as the proper bridesmaid that I will have to be in a few weeks time. So not ready for this marriage to happen. Not at all ready.

But shopping is always fun. I hope so anyway.

Sigh. Nothing to write.

bSve

Measuring Up

2009-07-23T22:53:00.000-07:00

For the last decade, I've considered myself pretty...average. Mediocre. Mediocre with chipmunk cheeks even. When I wake up in the mornings, I don't have affirmations to recite because I know it's a lie. Seriously, lies.

But there is nothing quite as the sting that comes from knowing that your father, and your mother, think the same of you. Do they love me...yes, as most parents love their children. You know, you play the role to the T you start believing in it. But do they think the world of me? As of this week, no.

I've lived in this house...a full calendar year now. My father and I don't have a relationship, and it was painfully obvious when we drove down to Los Angeles to get my British Visa. Two days of being togetherness...should equated to great bonding time, but we exhanged maybe 30 minutes of actual...conversation. That's more than the last few months combined I think. But it wasn't until I was yelping the local restaurant choices and frantically googling caloric counts did la pere acknowledge my knowledge of latest...trends and fads. On the surface, it seems completely benign, but his tone suggested that I shouldn't even know what the light of day looks like. Intellectually, I'm not quite good enough, and it took 48 hours to be sure of it.

That was Monday. I had 650 calories.

Tuesday...was a nightmare. Free breakfast at the hotel and Denny's for linner (dinner + lunch). La pere would have been very disappointed had I not eaten a day's worth of food in one sitting as it's free...afterall (free? my ass. literally!). And Denny's....well, I came home and calculated that I had eaten...900 calories. Fuck. I don't even want to know the day's count.

Grand total of 12 hours of driving, sitting in the passenger seat as my dad refused to let me steer...and refused to just fucking FEDEX my visa papers to the consulate. It's the normal and recommended way of getting one's visa, but alas, my father trusts no one. And I had to eat to prove my normalness.

I returned only to see a horrible horrible photo of me posted on FB...and I just broke down. I'm good at keeping those tears at bay, and just calming myself in general...but Tuesday night, I just kept thinking of those times when la mere taunted me about my weight in high school. I don't measure up physically or academically. God. Where has my life gone?

Wednesday came. It wasn't a binge day, but I ate a bit more than normal. I ran. Today, a little less than normal. I ran. Somewhere in between I took a few laxatives.

Friday? I'm returning to 500 to fast. I like that emptyness as I'm realizing that's the only happiness I have. It's not seeing those numbers reduce (or as of this week, increase to fucking 132)...but feeling empty.

Sigh. Geez Louise. At this rate, if I don't hit 115 at some point in the next few years...and maintain it for a month (at least), I thinking of just jumping of a bridge. It's not worth living as I am right now. For real.

Sigh.

bSve

Blank

2009-07-22T22:43:00.000-07:00

Oh Garfield, I really wish I had your optimisim.

Ladies and bitches and the rest, I've had a horrible week. Sunday was normal eat day, and I swelled with pride as Monday...when I clocked in at 600 calories all vegies. Yesterday and today however...

I'll explain tomorrow. For now...all you need to know is that once again, I am going to "hide" the weighing scale, and hope that yesterday is the last fucking time I drive from Los Angeles to the Bay using the wonderfully scenic I-5 (cough cough).

In anycase. Mustard, salt and pepper are my friends.

Sigh...

bSve

Easy as...

2009-07-19T16:44:00.001-07:00

"I know you all too well Belle" la mere utters with her air of casual confidence, "your diets are merely fads not forever."

And that got me thinking. How well do we know anyone, let alone ourselves? Not much apparently, not much at all. It seems like just the other day when serial killers were our husbands, and daughters willingly murdered their very own mothers (ahem, not me I'll have you know).

However, for the purposes of this conversation, specifically moi, I think my mom should know that I spent the past 20 minutes purging this afternoon's mistake: chocolate fondue. Out came bananas and crackers and walnuts and choco milk and in went calorie free gulps of air. I never should have had it in the first place, but a day of eating really throws of my weekend. I'm back on track now, and hope the rest of day goes smoothly.

Amazing. Purging is like riding a bicycle: once you've learned it, it's hard to forget.

bSve

Movies and more

2009-07-18T13:02:00.000-07:00

My favorite clip of the week:

Matt Lauer on NBC's the Today Show interviewing Bruno:

[On Bruno's trip to the Middle East]

Lauer: You seem to be confused about some very basic things. For example, in speaking to an Israeli and Palestinian… you confused Hamas with hummus.

Bruno: yeah, they’re basically the same thing. (!!!!)

Lauer: Do you know they’re not the same thing? Are you a little clearer on that issue now?

Bruno: The situation there is like really complex. The Palestinians have got their enemies, the Israelis, but I’ve got my enemies too. My enemies is carbohydrates. I’ve had to declare jihad on Haagen Dazs.

***

I just can't stop laughing. Cohen is freaking hilarious and I can't wait to watch this movie...on DVD. With gas prices on the rise, and soaring cinema tickets costs...I think I'll wait =(. However, there was one movie I just had to watch on the big screen.

Harry Potter. 6.

Thursday morning, bright and early...I woke up to no lines and paid a total of $6.00!!! Steal. A steal. Doesn't blockbuster rent out new titles for $4.00? Har har har. Awesome! Anyway, the movie was alright...not nearly as awesome as HP5, but it's loads better than the first three films. Loads.

Speaking of which, I can't decide whether I think Emma Watson is pretty or not. It's strange, sometimes I think she is just another Plain Jane but other times I'm like..."wow! damn girl! you look great!". Over the years, I've come to realize that make up and good dress sense really makes or breaks the deal. So when I heard that Emma, who was the Chanel girl, is the face of Burberry Fall '09, I wasn't shocked but still a bit perplexed.

The thing is, I will always see Emma as Hermione- the little harry potter girl. Yes she's grown up, but her physical age is overshadowed by her public persona- so now that she's a Burberry girl, I give her credit for trying to shake her image a bit but I do sympathize with Burberry. When they had the likes of Rachel Weisz and Kate Winslet, both women who are age-wise old, but forever youthful and elegant, I really respected them. Then they had Agyness Deyn, which was interesting move but not entirely unwelcomed--Agyness is quirky cool. But Emma? Really? They might as well have Dora the Explorer as the face of Burberry- don't get me wrong, I have nothing against Emma, I just don't think the market segment she predominantly represents (tween/teen) will move or improve Burberry sales. In fact, I think it will hurt them. They've completely diluted the brand. Burberry represents casual cool, and grown up elegance--something people of all ages aspire too. It's almost an initation into adulthood and the sophistication that comes with it. Does that necessairly translate to hiring Emma, who is going throuhg that phase? No.

People who grew up with Emma may respect her/like her, but will always see her as Hermione. That makes it hard to associate Burberry's luxury with her--very confusing. If it's an effort to introduce teenagers to Burberry, the company made a mistake in thinking hiring a popular commercial actress would do the trick. Sure, she'll be wearing all the collections at the premieres (enough publicity for a lifetime), but this is a case where this kind of publicity is not desirable to protect the brand image. Young girls can't afford Burberry, and I doubt in this economy, parents are willing to acquiesce the request of their children so that they can "fit in" and "look cool at school". Secondly, I think the company won't be retaining their some of their older customers--the on-again off-again loyal ones who see Burberry as a old luxury that has decades of prestige and elegance just built into those tartan prints. Does that mean Emma herself is not elegant? No...I just don't think she has the experience or the wisdom that both Kate Winselt and Rachel Weisz have (remember, these two also started out in playful movies like Emma, but over time became damn good actresses) to play the part of the Burberry girl.

This was a rushed job in order to bump up sales, but I think Burberry really sacrificed some of their repuation by hiring someone who is not ready to fill the shoes that demands the position of being the face of Burberry, let alone Chanel. I'd say a couple years of doing major charity work like Natalie Portman or taking on serious and/or artsy roles like Kate/Rachel...should do the trick. Emma is just a decade too early to be the face of Burberry.

I hear she's headed off to the IVY league. Well good for her for pursuing education, let's hope she's not like the Olsen twins and actually completes the four year degree. I have to give her credit tho- many a young starlet are completely ruining their lives by partying too hard--at least this girl has her priorities in sight. Atleast you've become a better actress. Still not fantastic (by a long shot), perhaps not enough to pull of my idea of Hermione...but hey, who am I to judge? Snape, however, is in top form as always. Gotta love Alan Rickman.

Anyway. Go watch the movie, it's definitely worth watching on the big screens. Definitely.

*note: triggering words coming up, read at your discretion*

So my week thus far? I am at 126.5-127.0. Pretty much been drinking a gallon of water or diet tea daily and just taking liquid calories (coffee, tea, soy milk). Occasionally nuts, but that's about it. SO this morning...I had my moment of weakness and melted bitter sweet chocolate in Betty Crocker frosting and smeared it on buttered toast with bananas. I nearly cried. After a week of having at most 250-300 cals daily, of having the stomach sink from the sheer weight of water and no cal tea, one sitting of what seems to be 800 cals of fat is just...well...blah. Sigh.

Another update: I just had lunch. That's the first time in eight days that I have two, proper, over 100 calories meals.

is today binge day? no. it's "eat normally so i don't binge tomorrow" day. dinner? 150 cals of soy milk. that gives me a grand total of 1500 calories full day with running for 600 cals. strange feeling...this fullness.

Wish me luck as I continue today and hope for another successful week.

=)

bSve

Go Green

2009-07-13T23:48:00.000-07:00

O. M. F. G.

Why didn't I think of this before?

WHY?

Where have you been all my life? Did it really take skin meltingly hot day to discover your...awesomeness?

It was a fine morning for all of five minutes until I saw the "I'm sorry, but we can't offer university accomodation at this time. Please try the wait list". It's fucking mid July, and all decent private hall housing is either obscenely expensive or in the middle of nowhere. What's a girl to do all the way out in California? Take a risk and try private flats...with strangers. With only pictures for my viewing pleasure, and a few short blurbs about how "clean" and "responsibly" folks are...answering...let alone accepting flat adverts is scary. Talk about a classic case of asymmetric information with yours truly being on the shit end of the deal.

By mid afternoon, I was hoping for a cardboard box by the thames. Until...I found the perfect advert. Just for me. Ladies and gentlemen...I now live with a vegetarian uber close to the university at an unbelievably low price....and I have my own bathroom!!! Homeless at 9, homefree by 6.

Considering the area, the tube stations (holy cow! W1 baby!), and the walking distance of 25 minutes (no gym necessary!), I'm in bliss.

Admist the stress of finding a proper flat, searching messageboards...and dealing with a schizophrenic computer that just has it in for me (i swear I will find the devil's number somewhere on this machine. it's american made...it MUST have one!) I was throwing empty coke cans across the room in pure frustration...when everything just sorted it's merry self out.

alas, somewhere along the way...I asked myself...where did hunger go? hunger effing disappeared. left the house, got those passport photos...and picked you up my darling diet peach green tea. you tasted good. and you...well, kept stomach pangs at bay. you did your deed. you did good Arizona. you did good.

i love you.

bsve

My Fast...

2009-07-12T15:35:00.000-07:00

...just ended. Of course this would happen, I am shocking my body. What did I expect? To actually make it through one freaking day without eating? I never had a chance.

But...I am making the most of it. It's quite embarassing to admit but...I had a small 30* cal coffee in the morning, followed by water and diet 0 cal pepsi..and just now, had the last few bites of my cake. I finally cracked and had a piece. a legitimate, not baby bite piece. A palms length. But alas...

I had the option to empty the cabinets. A few bites here, a few bites there and the next ten minutes would have become a catastrophic binge. Would have. Would have. Except I kept my cool, had (7) garbanzo beans and an almond, 3 pine nuts and now...tea. Later I'll probably have more tea and water and call it quits. I don't know how many calories I consumed, but it's not more than 200. I'm really proud. No regrets. It would have been an awful had I not eaten anything earlier...by now, my self control would have all but disappeared into thin air.

I guess...it's baby steps for belle. One day, I will have a post that will proudly proclaim my victory over food...even it's only for a day. One day.

Until that day, I can actually enjoy this...stomach clenching action that's going on as we speak. My mind is sort of heavy and dizzy, but typing coherently isn't really a problem. Of course, there has been no movement on my part. I've been vegetating in front of the TV watcing Anthony Bourdain's reruns (omgod love this guy, sort of like greg house of the food world) waiting anxiously for the new season to start tomorrow evening.

All in all, I'm a threat...nay, a danger to myself. There are many things in the house though...everything from cookies to chocolates to oatmeals...to God knows what else. No temptations, nada. Except for that cake, but that's now gone. I won't be having dinner tonight kiddos. No no no.

It's good to know my breaking point is at 3:15 P.M. Smack dab in the middle of the day.

I'm hungry, but not hungry. I can't describe this feeling. I know I've definitely not had enough to eat, but the pain and the hunger squeals are so overwhelming...I'm just too tired to get anything to munch on...and that, my friend, is exactly where I want to be.

To damn tired to do anything.

still happy. still thriving. still very much alone. yes!

bSve

*i realize 30 cals maybe a lot for some my readers, but be aware that I am speaking in purely relative terms.

Alone Again

2009-07-11T23:07:00.000-07:00

Hokay. So.

La mere has left the building. And my diet is in full swing. Today = 1000 calories. 500 during the day, 500 between 6-8. Ugh. However, I figured out how to avoid any eating when I'm on my own. Just don't fucking go to the kitchen. All my water in my room/close to me by the TV...and wahlah!

I am cleaning the dishes like I'm burning calories...wait, I am burning cals. Yard work, room cleaning...doing all of la mere's chores. It's grunt work yes, and normally I would hate to even think about walking to the sink. Normally. But when there's 2.5 weeks (leaving on the 1st) left, and a good five pounds to drop, anything that involves movement is a good thing.

I spontaneously do situps. Yea, me doing situps. I know.

Tomorrow I will start my major power walking/running again. I'm even typing faster. All to burn calories. Burn Burn Burn.

Oh yes, I will attempt my one day fast. We'll see how it works. Some of you are damn great at it...but I'll attempt the fast.

It's weird though...for the first time in weeks I am feeling happy. Like no black clouds over my head...nothing. I haven't checked my weight, and I probably won't until I leave. I guess it's my lack of eating. The thing is, once I fall of the wagon, it's hard to get on it again. I.e. if I stop "dieting"...there can be no food in the house, I'll still want to eat. With two days of master prepping and mental preparation...I'm like, "I'm only young once, might as well look good!". It's easier and I have the car...so I can just drive around, window shop, go to the library and no ones the wiser to question me. I forget about staying at home and I don't eat out of boredom. That and...once I get into the swing and the mindset...spend two days drastically reducing my intake (okay, 1000 doesn't count...but dawn till dusk, 500 cals) I feel invincible....and happy. Chirpy even.

Y'all are truly inspiring lot and with la mere not here in the house and la pere not paying any attention to my umm...habits, I am truly happy. This is blissful. Glee. No temptations...not even the leftover cake in the house. Yuck Yuck Yuck. Nothing. A lot of this residual happiness...well, I blame it on you guys ;)

So knock on wood...and hope this trend lasts.

Will let you know how it goes!!!

bSve

No Title.

2009-07-10T17:10:00.000-07:00

Bliss. Pure unadulterated bliss. It's magical.

It's a fantastical day. Fantastical. These things don't happen very often. My planets may be in sync or nature is finally throwing me a doggy bone, however small that may be. Finally.

You know that feeling when you drive the main streets and every stop light just turns green? Yup, that's what I am feeling right now.

In the morning. Two small cups of coffee, not even 100 calories. Four almonds and a diet coke for lunch. 10 Strawberries earlier, all the while spending the day

(1) making Tres Leches cake.
(2) Driving la mere around the town.

I know. Weird huh? It's my first time baking, let alone making an entire cake by myself. No tasting, save for half a thumbnails worth of whip cream. Oh...and strawberries. But you heard me correctly: absolutely NO tasting of the cake. not even a smidgen.

I am so proud of myself. It's not just control, it was me exercising my will power. La mere is leaving for the motherland tomorrow and I join her in a 3.5 weeks. That should be enough to lose some weight...if not all and just be "normal" when I get there. You see, there are some things I have to accept...namely that even if I have the "don't eat" mindset, relatives and the like will force me to eat something, so better to use this will power and control what I eat...so I gain as little as humanly possible. It's sad. I am losing weight to balance future weight gain. UGH.

I know. But still. In happy spirits today. Euphoric actually. My cake looks pretty. I didn't eat much. I didn't eat much. I have the next three weeks to essentially starve my butt off...and run. Yes, I am continuing my physical activities.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

Oh yes. There is a BBQ tonight at insane aunt's house. I'll figure out something to say...I've worked too much today to ruin my streak. Ride the wave as they say. Ride the wave.

In any case, it's eerily silent on the blog boards these days...

oooof.

bSve

No Cheese.

2009-07-08T21:34:00.000-07:00

So...this week has been one of those weeks.

Bonnie and Clyde came and left. I finished watching Dead Like Me (currently on Hulu--North Americans Only I'm afraid)...a delightfully dark dramedy about an 18-year old Georgia, who is incidentally incredibly anorexic, who dies and becomes a grim reaper. This is her show and it's fucking hilarious. Please, go watch. It's good fun. Enough to last three days.

Anyway. Bonnie put up some photos on facebook...and I nearly cried. Why do I always look so fat? Maybe because I am. I wore the same exact dress as I did two summers ago and I looked just the same: chubby all around. No change, even after losing 13 lbs. I think I am one of those people who's blessed with having no visible collar bones and a heavy disposition waistline and above...regardless of my weight. Damnit. That always makes anyone, 110 or 130, look very fat.

And that got me thinking about...photos. I've always heard that some Indian tribe somewhere (not the ones who invented the zero, but the ones who questionably celebrate 4th of July) never take photos because they think their collective souls perish as soon as the shutter goes off. Or something like that. Me? I don't take photos for fear of permanently recording my larg-@sse all over the internet for people to laugh at. To judge. To snigger. It's been six years since I took a proper photograph, sober mind you, without trying to clench my cheeks (all four of them) and suck in my tummy...or do something heinous trying to look skinnier. Why did I bother? The camera only adds 10 lbs, and I always felt that it added 30.

So...I promised myself..."as soon as I hit 115, I'll take photos again". That was seven years ago. I have fb photos...but every picture is a profile face shot and there are absolute no lower body photos...unless I'm wearing a dress. No close up face shots, my face is just this canvas that holds oil and fat.

I guess...what I am trying to say is that I am tired of it. Currently, at 128.5, period prone Belle is fearing her trip to the motherland. I'm going to a wedding this August...but it's toward the latter part of the month. La mere wants me to meet all the family...so for three weeks, I have to figure how to stay in shape, atleast maintain weight without raising suspicion. I am exhausted just worrying. Because that's all I worry about. My weight.

I have no life. I don't go to parties. I have no friends. The only thing on my mind is my weight.

For once, I'd like to take photos knowing that every angle...I won't look fat. But I do. I doubt that's ever going to change.

Ugh.

bSve

You Think So?

2009-07-04T12:16:00.000-07:00

So hier soir, la familia decided to celebrate the return (and possible cross country relocation) of my older cousin and her husband, who I will affectionately name Bonnie and Clyde, respectively.

Bonnie...is skinny. Maintaining said skinniness requires maximum starvation but the poor girl doesn't realize that starvation sans pilates will lead to an undesirable amount of fat around the midsection. Seriously, poor girl. She's got skinny legs and hands, but like most people in my culture, it's ruined in photographs due to a unsightly love handles/untoned tummy. She removed her top yesterday to iron her shirt, and I was shocked to see how flabby her upper body was. I may not be as skinny as her, but atleast I am toned. Sort of. Well more than her anyway. I don't buldge as much when I wear her size 4 jeans.

Clyde? Well, he's lost a tremendous amount of weight too. But he's a guy, it just happens faster for them.

Bonnie and Clyde? Cute couple. He loves her more...definitely.

Bonnie and Clyde and family party? At a Chinese fushion restaurant with me sitting next to a 12-year-old, hilariously attitudnal prebuescent rich girl from our mother country...she is pampered to say the least. Make up at 12? shocking. But she was funny, and very entertaining. Her saving grace was that she thought I was 16.

Thanks kid. I'm sure you were being smart/tactful, but white lies are still...appreciated.

So...what's with the snarky, confused title?

Oh yes. As is customary when you meet someone new, your name and THEN your occupation is always asked. It's like exchanging verbal business cards, except your prestige, atleast during the dinner, is decided upon based on that very short exchange. So mine...went something like this:

Moi: "Belle Svelte..."
Him: "What do you do Belle?"
Moi: " I'm taking _______ at the finance dept at ***** this fall"
Him: "Wow, so you can save our banks then..."
Moi: "If they pay me enough, I'll even fix their hiring policies"
Clyde: "Yea...she's [moi] the bright one in the family"
Father: "You...think so?"...

no no. it wasn't a joke. it was disguised as one, but it was definitely a hit of surprise mixed with a dash of increduilty smoothed out "yea, right!".

In an effort to reduce any residual awkwardness produced from la pere's lack of tact, decided to make light of my lack of intellect at my own expense by saying...

Moi: "You should have seen them (la parents). They were shocked the first day...and by the third, they were still checking that my acceptance letter was officially endorsed by the university...I'm not sure they believe it still."

Que roars of laughter. And....CUT!

OOOOOoooooof. That you think so really got to me. I'll admit. I am lazy, and I definitely could have studied more for the GREs. I don't put an effort, and then I cry when I get rejected. But...still. It doesn't hurt, but it's strange to know la pere's honest thoughts about his daughter.

Do I have this urge to prove him wrong? No. I don't care what anyone thinks of intellect anymore because it's a waste trying to prove my worth. People can believe what they want to believe and I'm not going to play the convincing game anymore. Not even for la pere.

Anyway. Weight. Were do I stand? Well...I don't want to know. I didn't eat much yesterday under the excuse of listening to the hilarious 12-year-old, but I did have ice cream, girl scout cookies and more sweets than I can remember.

For a moment last night, I thought about giving up this whole diet thing. It's a farse anyway. But then my fortune cookie mysteriously read...."where there is a will, there is a way".

You think so?

Let's hope so.

For now, I'll continue to lose weight. My arms are fat.

bSve

On Love

2009-07-02T12:42:00.000-07:00

So in the aftermath of the chaotic scream match that happened most of hier soir, I still haven't found my beloved Ace of Cups from the Rider-Waite Deck. It's my second deck and I bought it at a time when I really doubted my own academic abilities at university. Since then...it's been all over the United Kingdom, United States...and Prague, Czech Republic. Before that...I lost the upper arcana of the same deck I bought years ago in my mother country. Of all things tho...I find that losing the Ace of Cups rather...interesting.

As mentioned in one of the comments in the previous post, Ace of Cups is really..love in it's purest form. So misplacing it...could only mean that clearly I need to find love. For those of you longtime readers, you know how skeptical I am on the idea of love. I can't say that I love my parents...we just exist in this house as three individuals...all playing their respective roles in this family. I am the perpetual student, my father is the worker and la mere is the housewife. We are all tuned out of the world in our way, and I have suprisingly...no sense of community with our extended family. I just don't care.

Post east coast trip, I've realized that my two friends dating has once again made me the lonesome third wheel. I am bowing out that group...willingly. I could perhaps try dating...but then, I look at the mirror...in the bathroom. The one in my room is nonexistant. thankfully.

I think enough rejections and rejections before even getting rejected properly...has just led to this mindset of why bother. i don't really have home with certain friends anymore, and I can't stay here with my parents...I just don't know where I can call home. Perhaps there is no home. Maybe I'm tied to my ideas and ambitions...and that's that.

Atleast I have my ideas. Atleast I have some goals. Oh yes, I have decided that inspite of getting into a finance program...I will pursue diplomacy....by becoming a foreign service officer. Well, I can't count my victories before having won them...BUT I want to pass the test to become a diplomat. I will. I'll be damn good too. I think 22 years of having to strike a balance between my mother culture and american lifestyle has made me...well the person I am today. Holding back my tongue for peace. well...extended cease fires anyway.

So...to the tarot lady who kindly posted commented in my previous post, thank you for words of wisdom. I considered the significance of the ace of cups and it's strange displacement from my deck...maybe a sign. Then you came along and provided a theory. I doubt I'll ever fully love myself you see...I can stand looking at the mirror and I absolutely hate going out with friends...unless I am very drunk. But, I can atleast try to have an optimistic outlook...

but even la mere calls me a cynic. ooof...you know when your mother calls you something, it must be true. i don't hate la mere, but I'm afraid I don't love her either. I want to earn a lot of money just so I could pay back what's owed to her (interest added)...and leave it at that.

since this IS a diet blog, I have changed my routine. I am currently 128.5-129.0 and I run...oh 750-800 cals a day. It's becoming ridiculously hot in these parts...so bright and early at 6:30 I do most of the days workout/run with the rest completed 13 hours later. I figure splitting up makes it less exhausting. Oh yes, situps = 200/day.

Salads mostly, with a bean/barley crock pot invention. it's good but have your vegies. i'm am seriously clogged.

today was rather unhealthy...had tons of fried of stuff, but pushed away this ice cream thing my cousin made. not poodle, the older ...seemingly mature one from the east (i visited her on my trip).

poor choices, but i am keeping that scale away. i will lose weight if i don't check the pounds on a daily basis. this is true.

on another note. where on earth have the bloggers gone?

bSve

Part 3: Fuck the Family, Part 1.

2009-07-01T20:06:00.000-07:00

The day finally arrived. The day that I would misplace one of my tarot cards. The day that la mere and I would have another verbal match of will. The day I (for the hundredth time) realize that my place is definitely not close to this family.

Originally, I thought I would bitch about my cousins, but then I realized that in fact, my entire family is psycho. Neurotic and user-friendly.

Let's start with la mere. She's been getting into tarot lately. By getting into it, I mean...she asks me to read her tarot cards...incessantly. I started to get annoyed a couple weeks ago, but when I returned from the east coast, I just got irritated. Everyday, atleast 4-5 times I'd be asked to tell her a "story". It was really insulting. To all you tarot readers out there, reading and conveying the message of a spread is an art. It's difficult and even seasonsed readers have dilemmas. Anyway. What pissed me of is that with everything I have an invested interest, it's like it's a children's game to my mother. What I do is not really important, just a passtime so hey! let's have a bedtime story thing with the tarot cards. Tarot reading is fun, but it's not a joke. Thanks mom, for taking me seriously and treating me like a fucking court jester. I'm your amusement.

Which is why I got pissed off a couple weeks ago when she took my cards, sans my permission, to a party where I had to read for some of the ladies in attendance. It's not fun to tell someone publically taht she'll be backstabbed by two friends, go through financial problems and God knows what else. These are things are private. But still. La mere finds it all a joke, even when more times than I can count, I've pretty much "guessed" what would happen to many of her friends.

I didn't say anything. I knew it would happen, but I still held my anger. Fastforward a few weeks, post-east-coast-break, and wahlah! Everyday, it's like..."let's play a game"!. I'm sorry, but I will not continuously read to you. I just won't. When those cards were in my hands, moving continents every so often, every card remained intact. All 78. As of this morning, the Ace of Cups is now missing.

Thanks mom. Whether or not you misplaced it, the fact that those cards were constantly moving around the house, between houses...let me unsettled to say the least. Of all the things I own, those cards are incredibly precious. They have seen tears, happiness...and have touched many people over the course of three years. God, when I had no friends to rely on at university, those cards paved a direction to follow. So to see that one of my favorite cards went missing...I just blew a gasket. I held my temper in the morning...yet again.

Afternoon came. Still couldn't find it in my room. Of course not, I handled those with care. I just let my mom hear it. Through out the whole argument, her stance was "they're just cards!"...and I think that irritated me more. It's insulting enough that you "play" with them, and then make me read them inspite of my hesitation...but when they're missing, she plays the "well, you were using them too much, it had to happen".

Bitch. Do you not understand that you are the root of this problem. Stop taking cards out my room. Be accountable for your mistake. Own up to it. Don't give me the "you always blame me, it's meant to happen" bullshit. So if I burned down this house, you'll tell me..."well it was meant to happen, we need to move anyway". No, of course not.

Likewise, instead of being blaze about the whole situation, why not try to help me find it? No...that would be unlike her. When it comes to her things, it's always about not damaging anything but when it comes to everyone else..."be detached about material posessions. it's not good to have an attachement to earthly things". Fuck you mom. Practice what you preach for once in your life. Secondly, just because you don't find attachement in your things, it doesn't mean you can't respect my things. I have asked you time and time again to leave my shit alone.

Where did this card go? Who the fuck knows. She doesn't and claims that I misplaced it. Yes, ofcourse. Me...after years of protecting them, I suddenly have a change of heart and get all careless with them.

I don't understand why she treats my things with suck a "i don't care what happens to them, this place needs to be clean". No respect. It's like she's undermining me. It's my things, my possessions. The least you CAN do is handle them carefully.

God. I can't wait to leave.

I actually cried. The only thing that's been constant in the past three years were those cards.

sniffles.

bSve

Foxy Lady

2009-06-26T14:19:00.000-07:00

Megan Fox. You are so hot.

Weight: 113
Height: 5'6''

There is no way she could be lower, and I'm quite happy she isn't. This is one of those few times in life I prefer people at 110-113 instead of the double digit numbers...because they look prettier/nicer than they would be that thin.

Anyway, her legs are dead give away. They just aren't scrawny. Google some shots with her wearing jeans/shorts...

sigh. what an envious figure. what a gorgeous face. so not like madame jolie.

bSve

Update Minor.

2009-06-24T21:14:00.001-07:00

Hmmm...

So I re-read my astrological forecast this month earlier. Apparently, I should be happy.

Ha ha ha ha.

I won't deny Susan Miller her credit, because she has been on the dot...several times.

So it should have been no surprise when I read that "seniors" would look favorably be upon me.

And so they have.

My boss wants me to stay the next year to complete the project I'm doing at work. More animal time, more organic farm time....but I'd be stuck doing something that was challenging, but unfulfilling. The hard part is over, the tedious, mindnumbling degrading part starts.

Ofcourse I'm heading to London...but still. I was offered a position. That makes me happy.

My second delight. The girl I used to babysit...well her mother asked me back. That means I have pocket money. Money is good.

My third delight...my forecast this month said that I would be earning money through writing. I didn't know what she meant...until my father said he "volunteered" me to tutor his boss's 13-year-old in the ways of the written word.

Yes. me.

Besides the fact that I have absolute no faith in my teaching skills, let alone my writing skills...I went ahead and said yes. How hard can this be?

Apparently, it is.

I'm sorry kid, but your writing is awful. You need to be in a non-honors class and my help alone can't get you into the honors track.

Grammar, word choice, and general sentence structures...well, the whole shebang really. What have his teachers been teaching him?

Nothing. I should know, I went to the same school. 25-30k/year for shit. Seriously.

Anyway.

I'm at 129.0 right now. 3 LBS gain.

Must reduce. Must reduce.

Okay, I'll continue my bitching tomorrowww...

bSve

Social Contract

2009-06-24T00:04:00.000-07:00

I'd like to take a break from my post-vacay ranting to acknowledge certain people who have changed and will change the world. Please note that this post maybe too disturbing for younger readers.

Unless you've been living under a rock, or in a highly state-controlled environment, you must know about recent political fall-out in Iran.

Recently, Neda, a young, beautiful Iranian college student was gunned down in the midst of the riots. She was an avid supporter of democracy. Of things free and good in this world. She was one of us. Young. Smart. Sassy. Bold.

There are many people like Neda. And you can't blame them. All they ask for is life, liberty and pursuit of happiness. It's simple enough, but why is that people become martyrs for something so...basic? Unfortunately, they do.

But it's when their heroic moments are caught on film, and when we can place a face to the ill will of the occupiers of this country, that we can spread truth. If you have the chance to do so, please watch Neda's last moments in this world on youtube. I can't even describe it and I won't even try to. I wouldn't know where to begin. I am not linking the video because...this is ultimately your choice. If you do want to watch, just search "Neda, Iran" and you'll find it.

Do it for Neda, and the thousands of people who now silently scream for justice in Iran.

Sure, the dead don't care about anything. They're dead. But I feel like we owe it to ourselves and to the human race to watch, and ultimately face, the cruel consequences of tyranny...which is death. Watch as her well-wishers try to force her back to life while her teacher frantically tells her to not be afraid...as she lapses into light.

Her eyes slowly rolled to the side. I can't help but wonder just what I've done to deserve this comfortable life while so many carry impossibly burdens of their reality.

This woman died for a cause, and I want to help spread her message.

I want to help so that none of us forget. We live in an age of denials. Be it that of the Holocaust or the Tiananemen Square massacre, even with overwhelming evidence...people still doubt the viability of these events. Imagine that. With the advent of networking tech and it's accessibility, there are those who question.

So what can I do to spread truth? Write on my soap-box of a diet blog, and hope that I can pass along Neda's message. That I can pass along the rage of that man who stopped those tanks. That I can convey the heartbreak and frustration of living a half-life.

If all you can do is watch and know, then let me help enlighten you. If all I can do is pray, then so be it, I'll pray. I get really tired of seeing acts of violence, but sometimes...it really hits a nerve. I'm growing tired of religious fanaticism and violent spread of communism, and I really just want it to stop. Just stop.

Thanks for reading.

Belle Svelte

Part 2: Psychotic Friends

2009-06-23T08:30:00.000-07:00

Before I start bitching, there are a few things I need to relieve myself of.

(a) New readers: thank you! I'm reading your posts too!

(b) Old Readers: thank you! I'm reading your posts too!

(c) Comments: I'll answer these in due course.

(d) Current weight: 131.5 lbs. FUCK.

Right. On with the show.

Warning, this is a long long post.

Where do I start? My love handles? Yup. Let's start there.

Introducing my love handles. In this economy, there the only ones who don't seem to need a mortgage plan. Boy...I wish they were on a fast repayment system so I can fucking rid them forever. We had a father's day extravaganza at our place yesterday and I was coy in that I ducked out of random, candid, "surprise" pictures. Between running around doing random chores for la mere and almost "forgetting" to eat (I failed, people were keeping track apparently), I failed to notice that a couple sneaked in a few photos of me while I was being a dutiful hostess. No frontal photos. All back. For the first time in my life, I saw my posterior frame and it gave me an absolute fright. Fright I say! Fright.

At first, you see the V of the back...and then, the horrible horrible oh-so-noticeable side bumps that completely ruined the photo. My thighs, even with black tights, were chunky...but it's my love handles. Fucking A. Honestly, that was enough to warrant the return of 500-600 calories days. There were bad last month, but after last week...they've become worse.

Courtesy of MagsBags, Midsummer, Paulaner, and hard liquor, I'm now have, on my hands, the task of separating the sea. Shutup, you will appreciate my Moses moment. You will.

Thank you Prepster and MagsBags. Seriously. I spent $400 to watch you two exhibit a complete lack of propriety in front of relatives and the Puerto Rican day parade in NYC. Thanks. A lot.

It's not enough that I am now a third wheel in this so-called "team", I had to watch you two kiss and hug and bite each other (I know...) all weekend. To make it worse, you tried to set me up with an unattractive Irishman whose parents took great offense when I complimented their sons on having, on what I perceived as a great quality, red hair. Sorry, beer guts don't count as a six pack. Sorry.

I may have forgiven my friends' blatant public displays of affection (PDA) had there not been a pool of damaged feelings from which their relationship bore out of. To sum it up, Prepster dated a wealthy, classy girl (Marilyn) for two years, going as far as living with her during his final two years at uni and proposing at graduation only to break up with her right after to date Mags Bags, a girl is equally well-ff as Marilyn who I introduced to Prepster in one of our classes to form a team, only to notice chemistry developing between the two in our final year. Since no one in our social circle knew Mags, I had to vouch for her character and her agenda. *Phew* What a runon sentence.

So imagine me having to listen to the heartbreaking sobs all the way from Paris from a girl who put her faith and trust in a guy who doesn't deserve shit. Imagine me wondering what on earth got into Mags as she decided to compromise my friendship with her, her relationship with Marilyn...and her dignity all for a boy. There are so many boys out there, why this one? Why? You couldn't have waited a couple months? No. Within a week of the ending a two-year almost marriage relationship, Mags slept with Prepster and continues to do regardless of whether I'm in the next bedroom or not.

Filthy. Disgusting. Absolutely deplorable.

The funny thing is, I met both sets of parents, and they both asked me how the "other" girl was doing. Quite adamantly. So I'm not the only one who questions the birth of this relationship, let alone the longevity of it. Nevermind that Marilyn has her life in order with another awesome, rich, well-educated chap...the point is that why I am stuck in the fucking middle of all this? I was forced to back Mags and her personality only to be publicly insulted. Mags, you whore. Some friend you are. No consideration what-so-ever.

My only silver-lining on this trip was to meet up with a high-powered financier and float on clouds over the fact that I was skinner than Mags. She put on 35-40 pounds at least. Apparently, settling in with a long-distance, cross-Atlantic boyfriend has given her a carte blanche for her weight. Stupid Mags, there will always be designer jeans in the next size, but will your boyfriend stick around that long...to zip up that zipper with pliers?

Of course, another moment of glee came at the dinner table when Mag's father decided to talk about football boys at Mag's 30k/year prep school. You know...reminiscing on the old days and contemplating their futures. The father himself is a self-made man, coming from a poor poor projects to becoming an MIT undergrad + MBA. He is rich. So Prepster says..."I'll never be good enough". Your damn right your not. You are mistaken to think your lack of pedigree or schooling has anything to do with this. You have no ambition in life, are happy with back office jobs and hope your looks and dress sense will carry you through your forties...with a rich, financially endowed spouse no less. Prepster is so fucking transparent he might as well be a ghost. Of course you're not good enough. There isn't enough substance in you, and Mag's father only wants what's best for his daughter. Prepster, you're a douche.

So the douch thing he can do now is:

(a) propose the idea of proposing to Mags to her mom.

(b) do it this week because he has no money to ask in person for the next year as he is paying of 120k college debt and can't afford to fly back for awhile.

(c) do it because their 10 month relationship is "practically a year anyway, so might as well ask now". Might I add again...that there's is a long distance relationship? He is in the UK and she is on the east coast, each seeing each other for a week every two months?

Wait...hold on. They are in love. My mistake, I shouldn't be as bitchy. No No..not for insulting my friend, insulting me, embarrassing me last weekend, and then joking about having sex in the next room with me still in the house. Wait, hold on, they actually did do the latter...they were joking about having a threesome.

They are in love. It's so much love, that they can overlook the fact that he has no money to support either of them post-matrimony.

But...hey. They are in love.

Mags. Your parents...are so classy, what happened to you? Can't stay even one week without having attention?

Obviously, you were trying to feed me fatty food all week. I wasn't eating bitch, but I was drinking a whole lot. Enough to blur out your pathetic excuse of a relationship. I'm sorry, but public demonstrations of affection are not necessarily linked to long, thriving relationships. I'd say it's the exact opposite.

All of this...from my love handles.

Today, I started my pure veg, 600-800 cals diet just to spite her. If there is anyway I can retaliate it's by being skinny. And pretty.

I'll have to work on the latter.

and the former.

ugh.

bSve

Part 1: Fuck Every____

2009-06-18T20:37:00.000-07:00

Fuck:

(a) my psychotic friends.

(b) my psychotic cousins.

(c) my pyschotic scale.

Fuck everything and everyone, left, right, and center.

Seriously.

I spent one week walking and eating and drinking. I knew I gained weight, but I was 126 when I left. I am now 132.

Some of it is food weight, but alot of it fat weight. My face is fatter. My thighs are chubbier. My breats are larger.

I hate this. Why is it that when I eat normally, I gain weight. Oh that's right. My metabolism is fucked for so many reasons I don't even want to repeat them.

So fuck that too.

My face fucking exploded in the last week. I didn't even eat too many fatty things...and wahlah! The entire solar system is visible on my chin. And forhead. and cheeks.

I am 132 pounds. I gained 6 pounds in 8 days. How does that work? It doesn't. It really doesnt.

I bitched about point (c), and since I just entered the house smelling of plane and the disgusting beef burrito my neighbour was eating, I need to shower.

But I missed you guys.

And I missed my bitching. I bitch alot. But I need to. I was going INSANE this last week because I so desperately wanted to write about everything and everyone, but alas...I couldn't. It's not good leaving an internet trail elsewhere.

There is just too much to talk about so I'll continue tomorrow. The day after. And the day after that.

132.

Fuck!!!!!

bSve

Beetle Juice

2009-06-08T19:46:00.000-07:00

Mother Nature, you are so kind. Just as I'm hoping for a blissful vacay in the east, all set for the white party...you give me my monthly gift. Cheers. I owe you one.

Blood week...continues as I countdown to the season 2's premiere of all things Bill Compton, my favorite vampire. Why can't I have a tall, lean, lanky, scruffy, sweaty vampire all to myself? why? why? why? why?

Anyway.

It's summer and the strawberries have officially been plucked. I had some (count two) at the farm today, and they were fucking delicious. Colorful and ripe. Yum. Somehow, colorful food looks so appetizing, healthy even.

Who am I kidding? Spicy Cheetos are not healthy no matter how red they are. Neither are those "avocado" flavoured tortillas. But the point is kids, that some of us assume that they are healthy.

So we should all go organic, and avoid synthetics.

The questions is, how organic?

If organic food is well, completely organic...then what about the coloring? Well, the next time you see something red or rosy or even pink, congratulate yourself on becoming one step closer to becoming a vampire. That's right. Apparently, some natural dyes are actually beetle blood.

Yup, that's right.

Bug Blood.

Beetles are actually ground up so that their blood can create that red velvet cake the south so craves.

I know.

I know.

I KNOW.

I'm really pissed. Considering just how much food relies on coloring, I think it's time we end this petroleum vs. bugs debate and figure out a non-toxic and/or carnivorous way of coloring food.

Or hey. there is a simpler solution.

Just stick to produce and you know...not eat processed food...

sigh...

bSve

Bad Blood

2009-06-07T22:15:00.000-07:00

So I eagerly await for the return of my favorite vampire. Not the shiny, pale, "godlike" kind--rather, the saucier southern variety. With all due respect Ms. I-can't-write-even-if-my-life-depended-on-it-but-book-sales-justify-my-autherdom Stefanie Meyer, move over.

Que Bill Compton. Your run of the mill confederate solider-turned-bloodsucker is returning to HBO in a week, and I can barely hold my giggles. Let alone my pants. Har har har.

Is it his come hither eyes or his gangly hair...? Or perhaps it's the quirky style of Charlaine Harris, whose girth I ignore in favor of her storytelling. She gives us a unique blend of southern charm, dark humor, fantasy and a vampire so lusty and sweaty, I'm sure he can cure a garguantuan libido.

I'm excited. Thrilled. So it's should be no surprise when I dedicate this entire week to Bill and Sookie, the best hybrid couple out there. You heard me correctly...I'm dedicating the next seven days to Bill.

Be warned. Be ware. It's Blood Week.

Having said that...I need to start off by bitching a little bit. My period is around the corner, so bear with me.

I realize that alot of you are fans of the other vampire novels written by Ms. Meyer. I am in no way insulting you with the following, and I greatly appreciate your suggestions for my summer reading list.

For the purposes of my sanity, I need to write down my thoughts about her and her books...so that I may never have to think about either again. It's cartharsis and this is my blog.

I like reading a variety of books. The Great Gatsby, Pride and Prejudice, Fullmetal Alchemist, Alice in Wonderland, The Phantom Tollbooth and Harry Potter...all game. All favorites. No bias for any particular genre. I just ask for good writing. I just ask to not be bored.

I can be reasonable. Flexible even.

So when everyone started talking about Bella; Edward; and Forks, Washington...I wanted to be in the know. Which is why for Valentines, I bought the books from Amazon...

...and sold them by St. Patrick's Day on Ebay for a minature pot of gold. I actually made a profit. Go figure.

I couldn't even finish Meyer's last book in this series. I couldn't. My eyes bled.

I was starting to get paper cuts from skipping pages.

About the only thing I liked...was the idea of forbidden love...and vampires. (I'm a girl too.)

What's my beef?

(a) Did anyone ever notice that Bella's description of Edward is...the same page to page, book to book? I'm not complaining about their relationship as I totally get it. Who hasn't felt that way? I am bitching about how this so called "writer" merely used the thesaurus as a way to ad lib her way through not one, not two, but four freaking books. That is the oldest trick in the hat, and should be left to us thesis writers. Ugh Meyer, you disappoint me.

More importantly, the whole series wreaked of monotony. Her execution was appalling. Everything from description to dialogue to drama, it all felt a little stale. There was no variety in the mechanics of her writing (sentence structures, word choices, playing with tone...), and there was hardly a solid story to back Book 4 (let alone 3). So who is fooling who? At every turn of the page, her words fall flat. There was nothing between the lines, and I just couldn't believe in their love. It was empty.

Quite frankly, it's a little insulting. Mrs. Rowling handled teenage personalities so well in her books...that it's proven possible that adults can capture the these angst-ridden years. I wish Ms. Meyer took a leaf out Rowling's book. Repeating "chiseled body", "I'm depressed", and "I need him" does not a romance make. Broken records do not make for a pleasurable listening experience. In fact, her lack of creativity in conveying the depth of emotions that comes with adolescent love (excessive use of adjectives was a terrible way to mask the banality), is kind of like the vocal range of what's his face who won American Idol 2009, oh yes Kris Allen. It's limited. I would think more teens took offense to this. Who is this woman and how dare she write something that doesn't even begin to capture the passion and fervor of a high school romance ...even if it's one based on lust and looks?

I wish Little Brown and Company just paid Meyer for her idea and used a ghost writer to rewrite the novels. Someone who actually has a handle on tone, flow, and style. I've read stories on FanFiction/FictionPress that are infintely better than these novels.

(b) Ms. Meyer is quite aware of her shortcomings. When asked about her books, she commented that she showed all the publishing houses that rejected her just what she was made of. Quantity is not quality madame, and they rejected you for a reason. Then...she said the same thing about the movie, another fabulous disaster (oh Nikki Reed, this can't be your follow-up to Thirteen!!!). If you were an author, and you knew you had a great book, you wouldn't need the validation of others to support the book. It helps, but you don't need it. You should believe in it yourself. Much like someone speed-writing an essay hours before it's due just to turn something in for credit, I get the feeling that she didn't believe in her book (rightly so and totally justified). No quality, just words strung together. Which is why it's coming even more of a surprise that her book...is what it is now. An awful book that's commercially successful? No way!

Harry Potter...totally understandable. Good Plot, Good story, good commercial writing. Success is justified. Meyer, you are no J.K Rowling. Not even close. Creating novels is about about writing a good story, and writing it well. Garbage never counts (unless ofcourse you preface the book by saying that it is indeed...taken out of the gutter).

Please do the world a favor and just retire.

Otherwise the thermometer will soon read Fahrenheit 451.

(ha ha ha).

love, a very pissed off Belle who wasted perfectly good time.

oh yes, still 126.0 and maintaining.

Plateau anyone?

that makes me doubly pissed off.

Books, etc.

2009-05-30T09:05:00.000-07:00

It's been more than a month since I last binged.

It's been more that three months since I last purged.

These are a few of my happy-to-know things...*que Sound of Music...music*

Still 126.0....master of plateau (that rhymes!).

Okay. enough. I am chirpy McChirp this morning.

Okay. I have a question to ask you lot.

Can anyone recommend a really good romance novel? I've been reading too much philosophy + crime thrillers, and I need a good austen-esque novel to curl up too. It doesn't have to be G-rated. R-rated is good too. Perhaps preferable for this closet nympho.

Actually, does anyone know of good smutty fiction that I can read?

Yay for over-active imaginations.

bSve

May's End

2009-05-28T18:28:00.000-07:00

And forever 126.

Ofcourse, I have no one to blame but myself. I have failed all you, I know this. I have known this for awhile. Sorry kids, I wish I could revel in the mirth of seeing those pounds melt away...

While I am in this house, I will never lose weight. Especially now that the relatives are in town. The bread brigade seems to have welcomed it's cohorts, and with that comes a never-ending supply of bagels, muffins, and all things carbilicious. Fuck...Fuck.

I have tried, but I know futility when I see it. I have to plan my meals around their visits because it's a guarantee that I will consume 1000 calories for just ONE freaking meal. No hiding. No purging. No joke. Not because I want to. Trust me, Krispy Kreme donuts are disgusting (to say the least!), and just about everything I eat and swallow only adds to the extra burden I carry when I run.

Speaking of running.

A kind old man stopped me earlier today and asked me to do him a favor. He goes:

" Young lady, do me a favor. You need to have kids and watch your grandkids play...and before you can do that you have to take care of yourself. The concrete you are running on is too hard to sprint on, so please jog on the road. Do this for your kids. Do this so that they can grow up healthy."

Why thank you old man. You may have just answered my problem. I have shin splints, and this is why. Bad shoes and concrete is an unfortunate cocktail just waiting for my legs to waste away. Ugh.

No running. Horrible eating habits.

So that number, the 126...is a surprise. I hit 123.5 earlier this month. Or was that last month? I think it was last month. Anyway. 126 for a week now. It's not good but it's not bad either.

Man. Will I ever lose weight.

I have no idea. I am exactly where I was at Jan 01, 2009. Ugh. I think for now, instead of going insane and positively mental over the situation, I will work on weight maintenance. I'm not sure when I'll come out of it, but all I can do at the moment is work off all that excess eating. Bleugh.

UGGGGGGGGGH.

bSve

The Sins

2009-05-25T21:37:00.000-07:00

Would be my idea of a wonderful alternate reality to the beloved life simulation game, The Sims. This...updated version would all anyone to unabashedly practice the art of controling and binging on every sin there is-- and as if we aren't already guilt with the original seven, the Pope has to go and create seven more. Thanks. Add to our burdens why don't you.

Which is why this game comes to life. Having an issue with your awful boss? Lusting for thy neighbour's husband and/or wife? having issues with your trust fund? This game would allow you to release all your innermost thoughts and passions so that in the real world, you are as immaculate as a newborn baby.

Some people could really benefit from this game. Take Mags-Bags for example. We've been friends since freshman year, but I was never the so called "good friend" until senior year. I'm not sure I consider her to be my good friend even now because I feel like her agendas, as innocent as the appear, are rather dubious.

In my shock and disbelief of getting into ******, I ended up spilling the beans to my close friends. All of them. Including Mags-bags and her boyfriend/my good friend, Prepster. Initially, I thought she was happy for me and what not---but a single post on my wall confirmed my suspicions. Prepster wrote on my Facebook Wall earlier yesterday...

Mags bags earlier today: "But Belle is useless when it comes to sports. I mean, c'mon, she had her one attempt at field hockey first year..."

...and then removed it.

Thanks to facebook notifications, clearly it doesn't matter whether posts are deleted, I still am notified. Now...if he had left it up, I would have taken it as a harmless joke because well...it's true, I really am not much of a sports person. Unless you count sleeping, in which case, I am a bona fide pro. A star even. No wait, an Olympian.

He knows me better than to take this post seriously; however, since he went the length to remove this (i mean who removes wall posts on facebook?!), it must mean that he thought I would find this offensive because I would read between the lines. So on the face of it, it's harmless...but the intent and the person who said it may have made Prepster think twice.

So now we enter the fuzzy, cloudy part of the The Sins world. What did Prepster see that he didn't want me know? Hmmm....I can only guess, but I'll take a shot.

Mags Bags is jealous. Green with it.

Jealously is common between friends, lord knows how many times I've experienced it...but I would never reveal it. Ever. In fact, I think I have been pretty good about controling any feelings of envy because it really isn't the person's fault for having what I want. In a way, I'm glad that I found out about this indirectly, because had she displayed obvious signs of it during our phone calls...well, I would have second guessed her values. She didn't.

What now? I am going to just...let this whole thing slide. I need to vent, so here I am venting...but yea. Let it slide.

I may not be great at sports, but atleast I'm not fatter than my boyfriend.

OOPS, did I say that out loud?

bSve

How Strange...

2009-05-22T16:06:00.000-07:00

I got into my second choice program, which strangely enough, is now more competitive than the one I got rejected from.

Go figure.

------------- Saturday evening Edit -------------

Am I happy? I am fucking ecstatic.

It's taken me an entire day to recover from the initial shock of getting into this school, much less the program. I'm refreshing my inbox just waiting for that "Oops, we made an error...sorry!". Every few minutes, I ask..."geez louise, how did I pull this off?"

I have NO idea. Do I deserve it? I'm not really sure I can answer that, but am I going to go? Fuck yes. London for a year, possibly more whilst studying at ******? Who am I kidding, I don't even care that Poodle goes there. More on this later.

The two programs (Program A- rejection, Program B- acceptance) share a lot more than I originally thought. The only exception being that I cannot under any circumstances take the core classes in Program A, and that I cannot, under any circumstances NOT take the core classes in my program (program B). Otherwise, the electives are game for any individual in the finance department (and infinitely better than the core itself).

So why wasn't I accepted in Program A? The thing is, I completely agree as I simply would not have survived. Those core classes require extensive mathematics experience that I just don't have. I just don't. As an managerial economist, I only have a year in stats and calculus each, which is nothing compared to the scientists and engineers for whom this program is unofficially tailored for. So...it's a blessing in disguise as I would have fallen through the cracks from the start with one of the required courses. The others...well, I would have wasted money retaking what I have covered year after year in my bachelors.

Program B's core classes are tailored for the non-scientist with both quantitative and qualitative skill sets. No repetitions of classes here. No sireeeee. It's all new stuff and with a hefty price tag, I'd rather be studying new things as opposed to a rehash of what I have learned thus far. That's why I am glad to have gotten in because the financial material is tailored to different skill-sets through different masters programs and all students converge in the second term when the electives start. And those electives are why I am paying well over 30 grand to go this place.

It's a shit-ton of money, but this department is funded by banks. As such, finding a job much less a highly coveted one becomes easier because said banks reserve slots just for us. It's strange, I've always had to fight mountains to get the advantages people in these schools get, and yet here I am...becoming one of them.

Don't worry, I will never ever walk around with a sense of entitlement. I have to work for everything and nothing is ever handed on a silver plate...it's just...after several months of facing incredibly bleak results, all of a sudden a huge weight has been lifted. Like wow! Miracles do happen. This is a miracle. It really is.

I can't tell you how happy I am. I don't know who to thank because even for the program I got into, my application was far from perfect (standardized scores, GPA for example) and I applied knowing that there were many many many people who must have had picture perfect applications. What with the near collapse of western financial systems, many unemployed wannabe-rich overly ambitious bankers are now madly applying like the plague has just Wall Street. Program B is now as, if not more, competitive as program A simply because of the influx of non-scientist bankers (street slang non-"quants") all wanting to learn something new that will set them apart from the rest of the herd. Fuck, I can't believe I got in.

I don't have experience in finance. Just marketing. Fuck, what on earth happened?

It just hasn't sunken in yet. Damn.

Another strange thing happened between these last two days. I still want to pursue foreign service. I thought getting into a really good school would mean that I would prepare for a life of having a fat bank account working in consulting/banking. Even with the opportunities just increasing, I am still going to go through with the foreign service exam (FSOT). To give you some idea as to what I might have on table due to this acceptance.... consulting/finance jobs for masters students start at 60k-100k per year where as foreign service starts at 30k, maybe 35k. I'll definitely apply for these jobs, because the foreign service exam process takes a year from registration and that's assuming I pass all tests in the first rounds. I will need to work as I study, but now...it's like I have something new to occupy my thoughts. I am glad I haven't changed my plans, I rather liked the thought of working in an embassy.

I can finally sleep...easier. Ha ha. Oh wait...no. I have to find a gym! Although it's a city...do you think I can get away with just walking around town? Chances are...my residence will be 30-40 minute walk from campus. Hm. I am going to have a think about this one because it aint worth spending any money on over-crowded, poorly managed/equipped, yet cheaply priced university and private gyms. Seeing as how Uncle Sam is funding my Masters, I might set aside a good chunk for an elite gym membership in the city. Very expensive (my eyes bleed just thinking about it), but you pay for a guarantee to use machines as opposed to just standing around. Man, four years of terrible gym experiences and much money wasted thinking "let's go CHEAP!", this might be an awesome investment in myself...well, I am going to have to ponder. Depending on where I live, I'll see if I need it. I hate being this way. I do. But everything in London is tres chere. Incredibly pricey.

Sigh, that's all after I know where I live. Until then, I am going to sleep peacefully....

bSve