Floss for Better Smile..Haha...

A mama-to-be was once shocked by her colleagues' religious flossing of teeth. She then checked with me to see if i floss my teeth too as she was in disbelief that people actually take that as a ritual.
Short of using the word "fervent" (seemingly suggesting that i have nothing better to do than to spend half my day obsessing over getting bits of food stuck between my teeth out.) i must say i am indeed one who needs her teeth cleansed of food impurities.
And is it important?
The answer is, yes.
And how do i know that?
Well, my visit to the dentist is fewer than say, how frequently i clean up my room, how often i wash my shoes. The interval, longer than that between solar eclipses. Yet, when i did pay a visit to the dentist, finally, he said, " you must have flossed your teeth everyday".
Well, that must prove something, right?
So, floss to better smile! :)

Confession (Part 2)...

Haha...After my entry "Confession", my dear friends were worried I'm offended that they are always laughing at me being different.
In my younger days, yes, I had a tough childhood. I felt different from most around me. That made me feel down at times. Not fitting in.
Now, if you say I'm different, I'm more than happy to embrace it.
I guess growing up is all about coming to terms, accepting and finally embracing what defines the unique you.
I like being different. :P
And I'm now confident enough to shout out loud that I'm different.
And boy am I thankful and blessed that I'm born me.

Confession...

My status of being a single has gotten quite a number of concerned queries, even from close friends. These queries came in different variations that point to the question, "Are you gay?"
As if it is not bad enough to not find someone to share my life with yet when almost everyone around me is either very attached, married or married with kids, i needed to be dealt this double whammy of my orientation being questioned. Aiy, why can't people have mercy on singles like us? I know i shouldn't be offended because it seems to suggest that i have something against gays. I don't. In fact, i have good friends who are gays. But maybe because I'm so clear about my orientation that i find it bewildering that people will question it.
So let me just say this. I am not a gay. I've known this since the age of 5 when this boy gave me a present -- his pencil case with new, unsharpened wooden pencils and rubber in it.
So instead of maybe quizzing about my orientation, why not help me find someone suitable? I've gotten quite a number of concerned queries too: what kind of guys am i looking for?
Seriously, i don't quite know. Maybe the only concession i can make about myself at this present time is the fact that I'm quite strange and weird. Others who are kinder bestow the word "unique" on me. Whatever the case, if you have someone in mind that you think will match me to a T, perhaps the first criterion you may want to look out for may be that he must be strange in your eyes.
And perhaps this person shouldn't find it strange for someone to grow up on Horlicks, and not Milo or milk.
And he should agree that how well you hear is affected by how well you see. (You see, being a blind bat, i tend to not hear that well when i don't have my glasses on.)
And finds not being able to know the difference between Cookie Monster and Elmo perfectly fine.
And thinks that having thoughts of meditating at a temple for a week or so is damn cool.
And that wanting to play many sports like guys do and yet crazily love the arts is a potent mix.
He doesn't have to be like me. He just has to appreciate what and who I am.
Maybe, that may turn out to be the person for me. So, keep a lookout for me.
Thanks in advance!

Darius Singh...

Announcing the arrival of my nephew on 23th June 2009, the one and only, Darius Singh.
A tad late to make the announcement, but it definitely deserves an entry, considering that my dad only became a grandpa at the grand age of 67 and my mum, 63. Really, this calls for a celebration that they've finally elevated their status to such. In the olden days (but who really cares about the olden days, right?) they would have great-grandkids already.
Darius is one huge baby. His face looked rather humongous and is blessed with voluminous hair, just shy of looking like a you-know-what-hangs-on-trees. (keke, i'm a bad and wicked aunt. I deserve an edict to be stoned to death.) Weighing in at 3.605 kg at birth, i could already have a very decent workout carrying him instead of the usual dumb-bells. (Not that i really dare to. He's too precious.) He's got the most peculiar big eyes. Rumour had it that when he finally popped out, the first thing he did was to open his eyes to check out the unfamiliar world, turned left and right to exercise his neck after being confined to the smallest space for the longest time before turning in cries in crescendo. The man behind the rumour mill is his dad, of course, whose senses and judgment might have already been tainted by the relief and joy of finally seeing his son after his wife's labourious 16-hour tussle to pop.
Lovely child he is. I didn't say this cos i'm the aunt. He really looks damn cute! Huge, almond-shaped eyes, cherubic cheeks and abundant, slightly curly hair. What more can one ask for?
But no, my maternal instincts have not kicked in.