Now I don't mean to alarm you, but yes, I am quite the cam whore, yes I am a poser, and yes, I have no shame... if you haven't already figured. But hey, feel free to click the exit button if you do not wish to see MY face plastered all over MY blog. Happy Tuesday! Tuesday will now become my 'let's take heaps of selfies' day. Be warned, I don't mess about with my selfies.



Currently on repeat: Mine by Pheobe Ryan and Say Something by Karen Harding. 

I find it slightly strange how many people are at uni today... like, for some reason the beginning of every semester is when everyone gathers to uni, go to class, get told what is expected of them for the rest of the semester and give it about 4-5 weeks and no one is at uni anymore. Then when exam time comes around, everyone is flocking back in to hand in assignments, get tips, and attempt to study. Sounds a lot like me... back then. 

I've been struggling with my weight for as long as I can remember. There was this one time in primary school where we had to weigh ourselves... why? Yeah, why the fuck would you make primary school kids weigh themselves in front of the whole class? That's just cruel. Nah, I think it was for some sort of class science project or something along that line. Regardless, that whole week before the weigh in, I started to starve myself. All the girls in class were skinny, and I wanted so bad to fit in. I mean I wasn't fat, I was just more so on the chubbier side. That being said when all the girls weighed in most under 40kg, I was sitting close to 50kg. Imagine the trauma my per-pubescent self felt at the time. I knew I should have laid of the Maccas every Wednesday. Dammit Dad, see what you did to me? No, but seriously, I had a happy meal religiously once a week when my dad picked me up early on Wednesdays. A 6 chicken nugget happy meal with sweet and sour sauce. Bitch, no regrets there... a little regret maybe?

In year 7 I hit puberty. That nasty little bug got me good. I gained weight faster then I could chew my food. During Easter of 7th grade, my friend and I decided it would be nice to visit our primary school teachers, because you know I missed them ever so much, and hand out some chocolate to celebrate the festivity. There I encountered a teacher who kindly made the remark, I kid you not, in front of his class, "Nika you look like you've grown... that way" while he gestured his hands out horizontally. Fuck you Mr. Hoang. That was not something you should be telling a hormonal teenager suffering the wrath of puberty and gaining weight at the speed of light. So as you might have guessed, I became a little depressed and never did I ever step foot back in that primary school to visit anyone from that day onwards... scarred for life.

In year 8, or was it year 9? It was then, I hit my all time low sitting around 58kg. As I looked around my class, my school (I was in an all girls' school), it was rare you saw a fat Asian girl. They were all petite and small, they all looked good in their uniforms. Here I was worrying every morning about how fat my legs were, and whether my stomach was protruding, and cursing the school for not allowing us to wear pants. It was during our first two week break that I decided to do something I know now I shouldn't have done. I legitimately starved myself to lose weight. I would eat one small meal a day, or not at all, depending and try to sleep my hunger away. So for two weeks I was bloody putting my body under so much stress and frustration that it decided to do what I had hoped. I was finally closer to 50kg than I would ever be by the time we started school again. I was happy my waist was looking smaller, my legs a little thinner... I was happy.

Obviously that crash non existent diet didn't work... obviously. The moment school started I began eating so much I was starting to feel my own stomach expand so rapidly it was making me sick. In the mornings before class started, I would eat a packet of instant noodles, and maybe half a sandwich, then a bottle of soft drink. I don't know... and then for recess I had dim sims, and for lunch I would eat the other half of my sandwich and whatever else my friends could not finish. I was becoming a monster... a fat one. One morning, a girl in my class asked me, "how much do you plan on eating?" and that's when it hit me. I ran home that day and finally pulled all my strength together to weigh myself... in the span of the first week back at school... I had put back on all the weight I lost... and more. 62kg... I've set the record for myself.

For the next couple of years I struggled being the same weight. There were cases where I'd see slight improvements because I started exercising, but that never lasted too long. Last year, I developed a habit of overeating... eating more than I can sustain. In all honesty, I don't eat that much. The portion to fill me aren't that big, but because for some stupid reason I started trying to finish food I know I couldn't, then I would for the next hour complain about how full I am and how sick I feel. I overate to the point I would constantly feel like throwing up after a meal. It wasn't good. Naturally, I gained a bit of weight for that short period of time. The heaviest I had ever seen myself, I was 67kg. Immediately realizing my problem I restrained myself from being a pig, and surely two weeks in, I shed that weight back to 64kg.

It's now 2015, and my biggest worry was that whilst overseas, I would gain a tremendous amount of weight. Seeing how fast I put on weight, I worry a little. For four weeks I was away from home, spending a week in Hong Kong and 3 weeks in South Korea. I didn't restrain myself from eating at all, I thought to myself if I were to gain weight, at least it was from eating good food. However, I'm certain the amount of walking we did every day and the number of stairs we walked up and down had something to do with the maintenance of my weight. It's been a week since I've come back and weighing myself now, I'm 63kg in the morning and 64/65kg at the end of the day. It's definitely not a number I want to be at, but it is a number that I will start with.

Now I have never done anything like this before... but I reckon in order to work with myself a bit better I should do it just to prove to myself that I am not afraid. Plus showing myself to the internet would only make me want to work that much more harder to succeed in this weight loss journey I am commencing.

Labels: weight loss losing kgs fitness health looking feeling good self-esteem

So before we begin, I would like to share some great news with everyone. I finished another semester of university, acing all my subjects with Distinctions whilst graduating as a Makeup-artist at the same time. So yes, I'm officially qualified to paint faces... however because I haven't been in since to sign my paperwork I actually may not be as qualified as I thought. Other than that, I'm dandy as fuck.

I'm happy... or I thought I was. I was happy about my achievements and my life accomplishments. I mean in 6 fucking weeks I'm going overseas for a month to relax... but now I feel as if I'm excited to go overseas to escape. I want to escape the events that have taken place within the past week. I'm normally a very aggressive person, normally, but for some reason after everything that has happened... I can't seem to voice my anger as I would normally do. It's all boiled inside me, and because I'm so god damn upset about everything... I'm unable to get angry and all I do is bloody cry. What a girl.

This post will be long, and regardless of whether anyone reads, it's long because I need to get it out. No one seems to understand or get it completely, I honestly don't think I can talk to anyone and feel completely safe with my words. There's been a whole lot of misunderstanding lately, and I'm sure whatever I say it's bound to reflect and bite me in the ass because someone, doesn't understand my feelings.

I'm turning 21 this Sunday, but as an early celebration I decided to have a joint party with a friend in a getaway house we've been before. Now words won't even do justice how beautiful the place is, secluded on a hill with nature's best views surrounding the premise. It was relaxing, spectacular, and amazing. One of the many reasons why I had wanted to go back and spend my big moment there.

I'm turning 21 but for my birthday celebration, I was miserable. I won't say I was upset the whole 3 days and 2 nights, but let's just say, I didn't feel whatsoever like the birthday girl. My expectations were drowned the instance I was sober. My intentions for the getaway was to relax, avoid my hectic stress habits and have fun for the first time in a while. I can't help it that stress follows me everywhere, but it also didn't help the way some people handled the situation. It could have been better, it was unfair I was left to deal with almost everything and feel like a complete idiot for trusting anyone.

The first night: we had a BBQ, it was deemed the party night. Almost everyone was drinking, we were all having fun. Everyone was just enjoying themselves, ffs we had Danh shoving people shots every 5 minutes to the point that all our alcohol was gone the next day, except a bottle of smirnoff and some beers. I claimed the left over bottle of smirnoff because my bottle that I bought from my own stash was finished. There's my explanation before people go haywire and accuse me of taking the last communal drink. I did however offer people to take their beers... no one did and it had to go somewhere so here it is, sitting in a tub in my kitchen.

I was having fun, swimming in the pool, getting in the spa, drinking with my friends... this probably lasted 3-4 hours. Then drama happened. I was trying to calm a friend who was trying to start fights, And seriously fuck me for not getting both sides of the story before saying anything. I heard his side and understand the situation that has happened. It was a case of misunderstanding and people too fucking drunk to understand right from wrong. He was clearly just fucking upset. If someone knocked me whether on purpose or by accident and my entire mouth was bleeding... I WOULD BE BLOODY FUCKING UPSET. I would rage but obviously if I was sober, I would just cry.

So whilst all this was happening, and while I was so done with this shit I decided to pass out and sleep. I get to a point when I'm drunk, and when something pisses me off that I'd rather not bother anyone else and just be on my way to lala land. But hey, at least I fucking tried. I wake up the next morning, with Michael warning me to be calm and telling me that someone broke a fucking window. HOLY SHIT the things that bombarded in my head. So much to the point I couldn't even think straight and deal with it. So I stayed quiet and went to assess the issue. It's good Michael decided to tell me in the morning, who knows how fucking pissed off and upset I would have been if I were to deal with that in my drunk state. I was explained to that everything was an accident, mainly due to the fact that the spa was on. I acknowledge that I was in the spa but I will not acknowledge that it was my fault. After I got out I ran straight into my room which was opposite the spa to change. The hall was wet because people didn't dry themselves properly after getting out. Now I was civil about the situations, I apologised to people and made sure the guy who fell wasn't in anyway hurt. I was worried about the glass, but I was worried more about injuries. But what happened next blew my fucking mind beyond anything even possible.

It was 8 in the morning, and I was told that they would get a glassier in to fix the problem and it wasn't a hassle at all. Too easy... but when was it going to be done? So I did the right thing by heading in to talk to the other birthday girl, after all, it was 'her mate' that did fall and break the glass. I did my part and chipped in for the repairs... but was it also my duty to fucking handle the situation? The conversation went as follow...

Me: Can we talk?
Her: Now? Dude I haven't slept all night
Me: Is that my fucking problem?

Apparently it was, because the whole shit landed on me. I got one of her friends to at first  be in charge of finding a someone to repair the damage on behalf of her, and he was nice, he was willing. But god dammit, he sounded so off on the phone, and he kept calling the wrong people that even after a bloody hour, nothing was going anywhere. So Michael did what he felt was right and took over. If you're going to fucking say that no one told us to take over, then you can get fucked. None of you people bloody thought it was within your responsibility to fix it, so we as human beings were left to do it all. At least when I was passed out, Michael was still handling the almost near fight situation, at least one of my other friends forced the upset friend to go home so there won't be anymore problems. AT LEAST IT WAS HANDLED. I didn't want my boyfriend dealing with anymore shit so I took over.

So after a long hour, I was beginning to get worried we would lose our bond, $1000 fucking dollars, and no one would be able to come out to get it fixed. I WAS WORRIED! WHY SHOULD IT HAVE TO BE ME THE ONLY ONE FUCKING WORRIED? All I wanted to do was have fun but because people didn't pick up their shit I had to be left responsible for the mess? I stress as it is, if those I deemed good friends with me had for a second considered my feelings... even with just the fucking moral support I would have been happy. But no, I had to stress about losing our bond and about not getting it fixed in time. All the glassier said they won't come done because we were too far, either that or they were booked and busy. If you were me for a second? Would you not have worried? So the whole day whilst I was trying to enjoy myself, at the back of my mind I was just waiting for the call from the lady who said she could help us out. All while the person who should have been there to do something, slept because she didn't sleep all night.

And people defending her... just don't. Just don't. If you aren't happy about my rants then just don't listen. I'm trying to understand it in her shoes and honestly, as a decent human being if I were in her shoes I would get my shit together and help solve the problem 'my mate' accidentally got into.

I was fine when the strawberries my uncle bought for me was consumed by other people who weren't my friends. I was fine when my peach ice tea was consumed by other people who weren't my friends. (Yeah it was my fault for not writing my name on things) I was fine with cooking and cleaning lunch, then cooking dinner. All you had to do to contribute... was clean dinner. THAT WAS IT. I woke up on the third morning after having several arguments with Michael to a table still with last night's dinner. Did you not consider anything? Fuck, at that point I gave up with everything. I wasn't even asking for much.

But you know what I was not fine with? Out of everything? The mother fuckers who ate the profiteroles rolls on my fucking cake. There was a fucking reason one was wrapped in a tin foil put into the fridge for me too. There was a reason there was 2 left on the cake for me. BECAUSE I DIDN'T FUCKING HAVE ANY AND IT WAS MY FUCKING CAKE. SO FUCK YOU ALL WHO THINK I'M BEING SILLY ABOUT SOME PASTRY! FUCK YOU ALL FOR THINKING I'M A WHINY BITCH! IT WAS MY PROFITTEROLE AND IT WAS THE ONLY FUCKING THING I WAS LOOKING FORWARD TOO AFTER ALL THE SHIT I HAD TO DEAL WITH. SO FUCK YOU ALL YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES I FUCKING HATE YOU ALL.

I can't fucking stand how and understand how shit this supposed birthday celebration was. While I'm being told everyone was having a good time, why was I the only one then who had an overall shit experience? How do you think I feel when one of my friends says he had to go into his room because too much hardstyle was being played till the early mornings. EVERYONE SHOULD HAVE ENJOYED THEMSELVES. NOT JUST YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS. Everyone.

So here I sit crying again, just over and over again about how shit it all went down for me. I hope I don't ever have to cry again because of this and this will be the last of it all. I'm so fucking upset. So fucking bloody upset. And for those who don't get it, don't bother trying to understand. I'd rather you continue talking shit about how over dramatic I am and just fuck the fuck away from me. 

It's not going to be okay. It's not going to get better. The one thing I hate the most, are idealistic talkers. Those who can say shit about how it's all going to be okay and how they understand. But when push comes to shove, they fall apart and don't do shit about themselves. I'm getting it together now but ending this problem here once and for all. Don't bother me with your bullshit. Don't bother me with idealistic talk.

In 6 weeks I'm gone... and if I could, I would be gone for longer. I need a break from everyone, but this time it's happening for real... and it's happening in 6 weeks. I'm finished.

So.... uni started last week, beauty school is going nowhere and I'm still fat. Instead of losing weight I've gained weight and have recently been under little to no stress. Actually I did go through a 5 day phase where nothing in life seemed worth it. I kept wishing I could disappear to a remote island whe
re the weather is neither too hot or cold. Where the only company I get were the wild grizly bears who I will then over time tame and we would live happily ever after.

What a fantasy and dream come true that would be.

But in reality... I'm still here. Occupying myself 5 days a week with study and a weekend helping out at the family Butcher.... where we had 100kg of chicken stolen the other morning.  Auto correct keeps changing 100kg to 10kg.  I don't think we would be that worked up over 10kg of chicken... dad just wouldn't stop laughing as he found the scenario hilarious. He's usually a cheery guy with an anger problem... its either happy or angry, laughing at a situation that would normally piss him off really scared me.

Blogging on my way to school is actually a very smart idea. Instead of spending this time on the train trying not to fall asleep, I can blog. Maybe this way I'll have more posts and won't keep dismissing this page... not that anyone reads it.

Well this post was also to advertise.


Www.Melkaology.blogspot.com

Melisa and I have started our beauty and fashion blog. Check it help and leave us some love as you see fit.

Here's a picture of a bear for your personal viewing. Aren't they just the cutest?

Bye mother fuckers.

Before we begin this post, let's just take this moment to appreciate how bloody great I am. For being the most uncommitted person to writing in their blog, therefore it is only sensible that I praise myself and award whatever readers or by passers I have with a post... about SALON MELBOURNE!


Salon Melbourne is tomorrow, it is a two day trade only beauty expo where people who are in the beauty industry go to BUILD THEIR MAKE UP KIT. Well in my case, that is what I'm doing. Considering the discounts you get and all that, why not start here? I've been saving for a month and I have exactly $1000 dollars to blow... yes, splurge to my heart's content. Now you're probably wondering why the fuck would you spend that much money on make up, well you see... there's really no good explanation other than, I <3 make="" nbsp="" p="" up.="">
I'll be heading in on the Sunday, which is tomorrow, and have volunteered to do some airbrushing demos at the designer tool booth, not that I find myself exceptionally good at airbrushing or anything, but I thought it'd be a good learning experience. I'm not really nervous, but I do hope I do a good job lord everybody pray for me. I remember how shaky I was doing my first fashion runway gig... hopefully I don't end up collapsing in the booth, crying over how fail my life is. Should be good.

The Monday we will be heading in with the class, and that is when I have decided to throw all my money at these make up brands. Sadly, having cleavage in this kind of work field will not get me a discount. Darn.

Other than that, I'll update a post about my experience after the two day show ends. Oh, I got my Galaxy Note 3 on the 19th! To make up for my lost Note 1 obviously I couldn't stray too far.



SALON MELBOURRNEEE 'ERE I COME!

I feel as though it's time, time for me to do something for myself. Change, change for the better and change for no one else but me. Starting off with something relatively small... keeping my fucking room clean. So this might not be such a small ordeal. Anyone that's anyone I know will tell you the same thing, "her room is crazy," and not in a good way might I add. So I was never really one for maintaining a clean and friendly environment... for myself. Mess always gave me that homey feeling, that piece of mind that this room is MY room, it's MY sanctuary, MY home. But there are occasional days where I throw tantrums because I just can't bloody find anything, and that's usually when I'm trying to go out. Now I won't post any pictures yet but I will indeed when it's 100% clean to my satisfaction. Scratch that, if it was left up to me I would consider the state that it is in right now, 100% clean, but I can suppose everybody else will tell me otherwise.

So my birthday passed, I held a birthday party which I honestly don't remember much off. I do however remember drinking, dancing, vomiting, then sitting lifelessly while trying to shoo everyone out. I have a bad habit of crashing out early and doing that sometimes. Not unusual. So it was a Superhero dress up party, I attempted being Thor but no one really got it... I guess that's what you get when you buy a Zena warrior looking costume off the internet, then try to take a small wooden hammer and make that into your Mjölnir. Now I had a blast, and I hope everyone who took the time to come had some fun also, it means a lot to me that people come out to celebrate my birthday even though we may or may not keep contact.

Now the Monday following my birthday, marked 16th December 2013. Might sound crazy but I went up with Michael and Monique to bloody South Australia, a 9-10 hour road trip one way for little Marcy, Michael's border collie pup. We left at 5AM the Monday morning and got home 4AM Tuesday morning. I honestly didn't feel like the ride was that long, then again I wasn't doing any driving and according to Michael I was asleep for pretty much 20 hours out the the 23 we were driving. Now Marcy is the cutest thing ever, having her makes me misses Bear, my staffy x lab. Bear didn't pass away, I just had to give him away because I honestly had no time to look after him when we first got him. Having a pet is like having a live teddy bear, someone to be there and love you whenever. Now Marcy is pretty small but she is rapidly growing, soon enough the border collie in her is going to tear Rosy to bits.

29th December 2013, Michael and I shared our 6 months of being together. At times I doubted myself because I moved on pretty quickly after my last relationship, I can always make up excuses to justify why it's not but there's really no point to prove here. Even though it might have seemed like moving on to Michael was just a way of forgetting Chris, I can assure you it really wasn't. People have different ways of dealing with break ups, I saw it, after a long debate with myself, a way to venture out and find something new. And I found Michael. We spent the day together, visiting a park where he prepared us breakfast, then headed to the city for the aquarium, went back home, took a nap and went out for dinner. It was nonetheless an amazing day and I could go on raving about how much I love this guy, but I'll save that for another post.

Spent NYE at Josh's and had a blast with a whooping 4 standard drink bottle of Moscato Rosa. 'Cause I'm boss like that.. and yeah, went to bed, snored, didn't even remember waking up for the fireworks cause I was that fried. Spent the New Year's Day with my family, we made hot pot and had a lovely dinner. Despite my small family, it was home, it is home and I was, I am happy.

Happy New Year to anyone and everyone who keep tabs on my blog. I barely write, let 2014 change me for the better. Out with the old, in with the new.
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