A Curried Life

Human Flea via Internet  Trap under the weight of pretences, I decide to be the girl that I have set myself out to be. A quick tug form the upper corner and it rips, diagonally. One bare boob, a crooked arm and a bare thigh stare back. She has one good eye and that mass of golden curls tumble ridiculously. I peel off the posters one by one. It gets easier. Really. After that I just sweep the desktop calendars onto the floor. What the heck? I decide to reformat her hard disk instead of just getting furious reading her wedding planner. It feels liberating. I’m thrill to be getting married. Right about now it feels like deranged bride meets outrageous mother-in-law with details of a) how to turn the celebration into an over-the-top extravaganza that stars herself or b) how to threaten the son not to marry me and maybe it’s c) all the above and plus how to bake a saw into a wedding cake escape plan Arrgh…. The rampage is nothing short of a detox for the son, my inten

“I did not feel finished with childhood,” Gemma confesses. “Forty years to this day and the flashbacks have come back to haunt me.” Gemma is living with the toxic legacy of a bad mother, my old childhood neighbour. After she was born, her paternal grandmother took to caring for her as her mother was suffering from post natal depression. Soon the grandmother decided that she was a better mother for the little baby girl than her daughter-in-law who was constantly listless, moody and suffering from insomnia. Grandmother was afraid that the daughter-in-law would be careless and harm baby Gemma. Gemma’s mother was desperate and felt guilty and blamed herself for “losing” her child. She became a weepy woman who would sleep during the day and stay up at nights. She had very poor appetite and became very ill physically. Everyone worried about her. It was years later that Gemma was finally reunited with her mother when Grandmother passed on. Her return to her family home was fraught

My cousin Judy loves massages. Spas in particular. She’s always on the lookout for some new and exotic place to try. Once in a while, she would call with exciting news of a new spa. 1 Malay Traditional Spa The first spa we tried together is located in a hypermarket’s Mall. The setup and interior is modest with a distinct Malay flavour: plastic flowers everywhere, hanging from rattan and wicker baskets from the ceiling. Place high on cabinets or even low in terra cotta pots. We thought we had entered a bridal boutique by mistake. After we changing into batik sarongs, tied modestly, we sit on cool 1960's rattan circle chair with batik cushion. At the foot of the chair, lay a timber basin filled with warm water, flower petals and halved Kaffir Lime also known as limau purut.  Sweet! The masseurs start us off with a foot bath: a symbolic gesture to the start of our pampering. We wriggle our toes playfully in the warm water, pushing the flower petals with ou

Wills grins sheepishly. This girl is more than a little surprise to learn of his secret passion at night. Earlier on, she confesses her secret sin of chocolate truffles at midnight. Over copious cups of Pu Erh tea, Wills narrates the plots and sub plots of the Hokkien tele-drama that he has been following into the wee hours of the mornings. “You’ve really turned into a housewife!” she retorts. The going on and shenanigans of the Taiwanese drama is a melting pot of who-dun-its, business takeovers and sibling rivalry over the same girl. Wills is a SAHD or stay-at-home dad. Sometimes referred to as a househusband or house-spouse, he is the father of two lovely boys age 9 and 12. He is the main caregiver and the homemaker of the household. After years of putting gruelling hours at the office which took a toll on his health and quality of life; Wills made a life changing decision. He quit his high paying senior position in a foreign bank. He relocates his family back to his home

“Dee, can you get the Yim Kai from the fridge?” Kay’s mother hollers from the kitchen. I look at Kay, who is equally blurred. Salted Chicken? We look into both fridges, opening and closing doors. There was a large turkey sitting in the chiller staring back. Maybe it’s a Cantonese tradition, Kay volunteers. Kay’s mother ambles towards us, she has the look of one annoyed with the foolishness of youth – that being Kay and I. She shoves pass us and takes the turkey out. “As plain as day itself and these two think they can cook it by staring at it!” or some Cantonese idioms to that effect. Both Kay and I are clueless. He doesn’t speak his mother tongue and I, being part Hakka am equally hopeless. Kay’s mother glares at us. “I thought you meant salted chicken, Mom,” Kay says. Kay’s mother takes out the bird and places him on a large enamel plate. “I had to book this Yim Kai from Ipoh. This one’s a big boy, about 6.5kg and cost RM50 per kilo, “she boasts. Yim Kai is a cast

Two weeks into her first make over, the good little disciple showed off her loot. Amassed over weekend splurges, she managed to mega jump from nothing to a proud owner of a paisley print twin pouch cosmetic purse. “Gosh, your handbag's heavier now,” cousin announced, as handbags were passed over the dining table  to pile on the spare seat. Tea time treats followed with a round of “Chopsticks” Massage. Cousin examined the loot; in it were lipsticks, with names like Rouge in Love, Simply Pink and Pearle Rosa. Crayon eyeliner Noir brun. Lip liner 02 Mauve. Apache Blusher in Posie Tint. A hand held mirror. Of course there were other purchases. A gentle and mild facial wipes. Cleansing Milk, Toner, Skin Toner, Intense Moisture Booster, Skin Smoothing Scrub, Eye Cream to dab and pat. A wonderful world of potions and serums. She liked the difference two little lines could do for her eyes. Subtly, she changes. “Death to Dee the Dog and Ava the Hound” Dr Ava laughed; toasting al

Dinner for six with the likes of empowered gusty women leaves this girl totally awed. The credentials of these women are nothing short of a small wonder. Dr Ava; read brilliant clinical mind that matches her mile long legs and amazingly well-proportioned honed body. Suri; read Glamour queen and kitchen goddess extraordinaire, a delightful Asian Nigella Lawson.  Suri’s friend; read technically sound, wizard of an architect able to hurl design thought balloons to lamblast contractors into quivering lipped ISO compliant responsible workers. Tracy; famed pioneer of “Peyton Place After Midnight” cardio-blast. This girl; read bookish poet-writer wannabe with stomach bigger than her myopic eyes and a strong aversion for sweaty construction types. A conversation of sort ensues: it leaves this girl feeling a little INADEQUATE. Now she knows how a man must feel in the presence of superlatives. He feels deflated. “He sorts of panics,” Dr Ava narrates the story. “It is