Blow wind blow

The windows were opened the whole day today, welcoming the cool wind throughout the house. Oh blow, things went flying and tumbling, doors went a-banging and my hair flew wildly around me. Lovely to have such cool wind, that is ... if you close your eyes to the dust it brings in as well. You don't want to think too much about that.

It's nice to go out to do up the hair, and feel very different from the frumpy housewife you've become recently. With hair styled and blown, you just looked good in the clothes you try on, plus having a special discount really makes you part with your money even faster. People all tell me that I've lost weight. From my aunts to the therapist ... and even the weighing scale seems dubious. I'm not sure if I've really lost much weight, and hubby remarked that my arms seem rather watery lately, having not been going religiously for yoga. I guess it's just part of becoming older. One finally loses one's baby fat. heh

I should have gone for yoga this morning, but it feels good to lie a bit longer in bed. Realllly good. That's bad. I need motivation.

I returned Xel's call today and finally told her. There was a stunned pause for a while. I swear I could hear her thinking ... what? I thought you ... But she recovered pretty quick. It doesn't matter. That would have been my reaction too. I just thought it was pretty funny. heh. Anyway, all that is behind, and we're certainly looking forward. It's kinda strange how fast people adapt to things. :P

It's so easy to be a frumpy housewife at home. There's always the cooking, cleaning, washing and ironing to do. What else do you wear except a frumpy old T and shorts while you sweat it all out? Just did an hour of ironing and boy, do I creak after that. Twists are best after standing for such a long time. It's amazing how easy it is. Fortunately I'm simply too lazy to be too obsessed with cleanliness. As long as it looks neat and clean, I'm quite happy.

The most frightening movies ever are not those horror shows that play on your nerves and try to scare the shit out of you by all those cheap trills. The most frightening shows ever are instead those real life documentary shows you see on BBC world or Discovery or National Geo which depicts the life of a woman in a third world country, or in some very ulu part of Africa. I was watching one such during my vacation. A young girl of seventeen was forced into marriage. The groom gave ten cows to the father, and the girl was promised as wife. Oh no, they were not selling her. those were just a gift. No one gave a damn what she wanted. She wanted to continue her studies (they were not as ulu as not having an education), but she was simply told to marry the guy, and promised a better life. Groom wanted a fat wife. So the fiance was force fed cow's milk everyday, almost every hour for four months before the wedding ... to be fat. And to continue after the wedding as well. Imagine being shuttered in a small hut, waking up drinking a gourd of milk, another, an hour and half later, another for lunch, another for tea, another round for dinner and last round for supper. One big gourd each time under the watchful eyes of Grandma who would beat her if she did not comply. In between each feeding, there was nothing for her to do except to sleep, and not to think. I could not imagine the horrors of that. I could not tear my eyes away. There was a horrid fascination about the whole show. It was just simply so awful. And the villages were Christians, who believed they were giving her a better future, and in time to come, she too had accepted her fate. Resigned.

I cannot get that out of my mind.

Being fat had problems too. Her sister-in-law had heart problems and other illness due to her obesed body. She had difficulty getting up, walking around and probably had her life shorten by twenty years. She was interviewed too, and you can see in her eyes the resignation of her life. That is the life they knew. That is the life they lived.

At the end of the programme, you could see that from a gawky skinny teenage, she had become much rotund and fat. There was a sense of dispair and sadness about her, she cried every night when not seen by relatives. Her tears flowed as she was being interviewed. She cried silently during the wedding ceremony. There was just not a glimmer of smile or joy about her person. Her face just read misery and resignation. How could anyone look forward to such a life?

Back at my grandma's place, my two aunts spent their day cleaning, washing, cooking and all the housework which have to be done as well as seeing to the kids and granny. After which, they would plop down in front of the tele and while away the rest of the time glued. Horrors of horrors, they were watching our local productions! Arrgh. One soap after another, another after another. Maybe HK as well, or Taiwanese etc. Perhaps only to unglue to cook or to take a short break. And beyond that conversations were trival and superficial. I can't imagine a life like that either.

What do I have? Work - repetition after repetition. Home - cleaning, washing, cooking, ironing. Rest - the tele? Books? Conversation? What is to prevent me from spiralling downwards to become mush or an unintelligible glob? What is there to allow me to keep my sanity and to give me room to grow? Do we all become monotonous and boring and unthinking? Is that how we become as we grow old? Oh horrors.

Xel reminded me that Noriko Ogawa is coming to town again. We might just go and see her. I need my piano soon! I need to learn new things! Arrgh.