About My Baby’s Nose…

Baby 3
Note: This baby does not come with a free Photoshop App

Last week, when we were on our regular walk in the park, an elderly lady came up to us and pinched Lily’s cheeks. We exchanged greetings and as she walked away, I heard her mutter softly under her breath (not for my ears, of course): “She is cute, but her nose is too flat.”

At that time, I didn’t think to react. She seemed like a kindly lady, and she is of course entitled to her opinion. But that night, I found myself telling my husband about it. And over the next few days, it simmers and stewed in my mind.

Yes, the minute they placed Lily in my arms, she became the most beautiful thing on Earth I’ve ever seen. I’m sure other mothers can relate to this feeling. But of course, I don’t expect the world to feel the same way.

Without my special mummy lenses, Lily is a regular baby. Many people still can’t tell if she’s a boy or a girl. If you really want to run a physical audit like that elderly lady, you could also say her nose might be sharper, her eyes could be bigger, and her thighs a little thinner.

But couldn’t you say the same thing for just about 98% of us – non-babies included? If you were to look at me, I know there are at least 10 things that you could change for the better. Scratch that – probably substantially more than 10 things.

And I’ll be the first to admit that throughout my teenage and early adult years, I was fixated on these imperfections. At an unconscious level, I have always felt ugly. If you told me that I could fix my imperfections non-surgically, I’d sign up in a heartbeat.

Thinking back, I realise that ironically, at a time in my life when I was supposed to experience the most freedom, I was instead shackled to this overwhelming sense of imperfection and inadequacy. Before I ran in the rain, I’d worry about whether my dark eye circles would show after my concealer washes off, or if I was wearing the right bra for getting wet.

And I suspect it’s inevitable that my baby will feel this way in her teenage years as well. But she certainly shouldn’t feel this way at the age of ten-and-a-half-months old, not at the age of five, not even at ten!

What I want for Lily is to experience freedom in her childhood. To run till her clothes stick to her back, and she smells of salt, sunshine and grass.

To dash through the rain, splash across the river in our park, and roll on the floor with my chihuahua and cats. To know unbridled happiness, and free-spirited beauty without worrying about what others think of her and the way she looks.

I hope that even when she grows up, and even if the world catches up with her and she’s buried under makeup and corporate politics, she will always keep this sacred space inside her. Somewhere in her heart, she will always remember what true beauty is, and what real happiness feels like. And anytime she gets tired of the flavour of bullshit the world is serving, she can always return to this.

If I do this right (and I really hope I can come close), this is what I wish for her.

So for the moment, I really wish to protect her from debilitating self-consciousness. From criticism on how she might be prettier if her nose were sharper or her eyes were bigger. But I also want to protect her from well-meaning physical compliments – the most common one being how fair and translucent her skin is – which in my opinion, is a totally archaic standard of beauty in Singapore. I don’t wish her to concern herself with such vain and superficial things.

What I wish for her to know is how beautifully her eyes twinkle when she’s happy – like the fairy lights at Christmas; and how bright her laughter rings – like a wind chime just before rain. I want her to know how perfect she is in every way – because I am her mother, and I am allowed to be biased. And with that knowledge and security, I want her to explore the world with more confidence than I had.

What My Mother Taught Me About Beauty

What My Mother Taught Me About Beauty
A Mucha print from http://graduate-extraordinaire.blogspot.sg
A Mucha print from http://graduate-extraordinaire.blogspot.sg

By the age of four, my mother taught me everything I know about being a woman.

As a little girl, my first memory was of her in red lipstick, stepping into a garden abloom with yellow miniature roses, purple orchids and dainty West Indian jasmines – the perfect picture of grace.

A picture of my mother
A picture of my mother

She passed away when I was four.

Later, I learnt from my father that she’d been struggling with respiratory problems all her life. But nobody seems to remember how weak she’d become. Staring into her coffin, what I saw was a poised and beautiful woman. And throughout my confused teenage years, I struggled to emulate her beauty and grace.

Thus I grew up in a confused and complex world, and like so many other, floundered through many moments of fear, self-doubt and heartache, seeking wisdom in books and forgetfulness in films.

But whenever I felt like I’d truly hit a dead end, I’d hit the road again and meet many amazing people through my travels – poverty-stricken India women with the most vivid dresses I’ve ever seen, a 70-year-old Japanese woman with the brightest purple hair, a breast cancer survivor finding love and intimacy after mastectomy…

From www.ericsstudio.com
From http://www.ericsstudio.com

Only through their eyes did I finally begin to see my mother’s true legacy –
her parting advice to me was not merely how to be beautiful, but one of enduring strength and hope in the face of pain, uncertainly and death.

She was the first person who helped me understand that a woman without breasts is no less beautiful, bright purple hair on an old woman can still turn heads, making the effort to wear lipstick when you’re very ill is a final act of defiance, and planting flowers that you may never see is the greatest leap of faith.

Beyond all the designer dresses and makeup, that is what it means to be a beautiful woman.

If you like this, you might like: WanderlustOlfactory Journeys and Bucket List Therapies

Olfactory Journeys

Photography by Tim Walker
Photography by Tim Walker

Beauty writing is really an exercise in synonyms. Read three consecutive issues of any women’s magazine, and you’ll see what I mean – you can almost picture a beauty writer straining beneath a pile of potions and salves, trying to squeeze out a new word to describe season after season of hydrating moisturisers, red lipsticks and blushers – in various hues of pink and orgasms (think: NARS’s famous Orgasm Blusher – http://www.narscosmetics.com/iconic-nars/cult-classics/~/orgasm-blush?d=true).

Sadly for me, 50 shades of seduction later, I still can’t tell the essential difference between chilli red and temptress red. And I’m not sure the equally bewildered man in my life can distinguish between a post-exercise and a post-coital blush either – God save his undiscerning soul.

Well, despite all this beauty blasphemy, I do, however, have an enduring love affair with perfumes – not the bubblegum juice of prepubescent celebrities or the saccharine launches of bargain brands, but those with real Florentine iris, sundrenched bergamot, Grasse jasmine and exotic woods.

Here’s why I strongly believe everyone should choose their juice with as much care as they choose their books…

Photography by Tim Walker
Photography by Tim Walker

It’s like choosing a theme song for the day

I love mornings when I have enough time to run through my fragrance wardrobe the same way I’d scroll through my iPod playlist. It always prompts me to do a mental forecast of my day ahead, set my intentions, and then visualise the perfect notes for it.

Like good music, the right perfume sets the tone for the day right.

Just as I firmly believe nothing great will ever happen when Justin Bieber is playing on the radio, nothing inspired can ever occur when you are wearing Justin Bieber’s Girlfriend – yes, that’s what he calls one of his perfumes…

It’s an inner journey

As skin-deep as makeup is, perfume is profound. Unlike makeup, it will not announce to every other passerby, “I am an indie-chick” or “Nicki Minaj is my latest not-so-secret guilty indulgence”. On the contrary, it is a more subtle language that you have to first discover for yourself, and then divulge to those select few that step into your aura. The goal is not to transform (like makeup) but transfigure – I always find that the best fragrances lend a certain vitality and depth to a woman’s intrinsic beauty.

Every bottle of perfume contains a world

A nose once told me that a perfume has to be worn by a woman, otherwise, it’s just like a dress hanging on an empty rack.

A good fragrance evolves with the woman who wears it – every book she reads, every city she visits, every time she fall in love or gets her heart broken, it gains new depth.

It conjures up subconscious images and forgotten memories, and teleports its wearer to undiscovered worlds only as rich as one’s memory and imagination – cotton fields, beach shacks, a perfect sunlit childhood vacation?

As I grew older, I began to lean towards such timeless scents that were complex and simple enough to age well with me – not those that represented a superficial marketing vision of sensually, as depicted by purring models in their ad campaigns.

…And, every once in a while, I would wear a ‘jasmine garden’ to bed and pray for a magnificent dream.

Photography by Tim Walker
Photography by Tim Walker

More beauty features at: Bucket List Spas and Beauty Beauty Advice From Mum

Bucket List Therapies

Therapy. Possibly my favourite overused word.

First used to describe the medical treatment of disease, today, you can literally tag the word to any of your favourite obsessive, compulsive indulgence  and elevate it to a form of pseudo-psychological healing. Retail therapy, massage therapy, apartment therapy, chocolate therapy, you name it.

The thing is, despite all the pseudo-science, I love the hedonistic and imaginative misuse of the word.

I also adore all the little spas that have taken our self-gratifying, self-justifying rhetoric to heart and created spectacular visual wonderlands. Why? Because I truly believe in the healing benefits of a little imagination. And on that note,  here are my ‘bucket list’ therapies and spas – worth more than a visit to the doctor’s.

#1 Tea Therapy

Fast-forwarding through the anti-ageing, antioxidant spew of skincare brochures, what I really love about tea therapy is that this ritualised art instantly evokes a sense of clarity and tranquillity. Chanoyu 茶の湯 (in Japanese culture) and cha dao 茶道 (in Chinese culture) reflect the profound appreciation of nature, self-awareness and hosting etiquette. They also symbolise the act of leaving the mundane world behind and immersing in something truly pure and beautiful.

Bucket List Spa: GREEN T. HOUSE Bath House Residence, CHINA

item4.rendition.slideshowWideHorizontal.best-spas-design-05

1

This stunning spa is born of artist, musician and tea connoisseur’s JinR’s quest for the quintessential neoclassic Chinese experience. Sitting on the outskirts of Beijing, it is inspired by a Tang dynasty emperor’s bathhouse and voted by the Best Spa Design by Wallpaper magazine. Everything about it (even the website –  http://green-t-house.com/greenteahouse1/bathhouse.html and its musical accompaniment) seems like something out of a Zhang Yimou film. Soak in the rooftop onsen, luxuriate in purifying green tea treatments, sample artistically plated tea-inspired cuisine, and declare time out from the heave of humanity.

#2 Hydrotherapy

Imagine the weightlessness and warmth of being submerged and suspended in lukewarm water. Proponents claim that this weightlessness relieves the body of the pull of gravity, gently massages, and stimulates the touch receptors of the skin. Adjustments to water temperature and pressure are used to improve blood circulation, encourage relaxation, enhance the immune system and hydrate the skin.

Bucket List Spa: Blue Lagoon, ICELAND

blue-lagoon-reykjavik

Four reasons I’m sold on this spa: geothermal seawater, in-water massages, the midnight sun and the otherworldly dreamscape of Iceland. Of course, the midnight package is only available from July to August when Iceland enjoys almost 24 hours of sunlight. (www.bluelagoon.com)

#3 Beer Therapy

Step aside, red wine. If you’ve heard enough of polyphenols and resveratrol, you’ll welcome this newer alcohol-skincare fad. This form of booze therapy is gaining popularity in Germany, Austria and Czech Republic, where the folks simply love their beer. Soak in a barrel and instead of a nasty hangover, expect better circulation, detoxification and relaxation from beer’s natural healing cocktail of vitamins, proteins and folic acid.

Bucket List Spa: První Pivní Lázně Karlovy Var, CZECH REPUBLIC

pivni_lazne1

This beer bath takes place in 1000-litre whirlpool tubs infused with brewing yeast, selected varieties of hop, and malt grist – natural extracts from which Krušovice beer is brewed. Heated to 37°C, it purges toxins, rejuvenates the skin and melts away stress. This is followed by 20 minutes of resting on a bed made of wheat straw, and endless pints of beer in case you still have any residual tension. (http://pivnilazne-kv.cz)

#4 Multi-sensorial Therapy

001

Combining colour, shape, light, sound, vibration and warmth to induce deep relaxation, this newfangled type of therapy feels like something out of a futuristic sci-fi world. AlphaSphere, for example (the brainchild of artist Sha) is a monochromatic blue rocking relaxation couch offered at Berlin’s Mandala Hotel ONO Spa and Bulgaria’s Kempinski Hotel’s Zalez.

Bucket List Spa: Wellness at Backstage Hotel, SWITZERLAND

1. Cube 2 at Wellness, inspired by the 2nd day of Creation

7f3f80de16448fdcb5469ce5e54fb0ccInspired by the seven days of Genesis, this spa invites you to experience the miracle of creation in seven splendid rooms. Begin in a steam room flickering with an art projection of light and shadow, lay down in a field of infrared heated glass pearls as clouds drift by, travel through a cosmic world seen through a Hubble telescope, and drift away in a floating basin to the sound of whale song… Through sound, aromatherapy, art, video installations, temperature and state-of-the-art technology, this spa recreates a rich world of magic and imagination. (www.backstagehotel.ch/wellness_80.html)

For more aspiration travel destinations, read: The Escapist Atlas

And p.s., here’s my budget attempt at Self-healing at a Yoga Ashram in India

*Most pictures were taken from the websites of the respective spas.

My Ashram Experiment

My Ashram Experiment
Sivananda yoga ashram after a morning walk
Sivananda yoga ashram after a morning walk

Right off the bat, I’ll admit that:

One: Two weeks in an Indian ashram was my ‘cheap shot’ at accelerated self-discovery.

Two: I was your textbook epiphany-seeker (no thanks to Eat, Pray, Love, which I never read).

Three: I now have firsthand experience of living out an old cliché, indulging a quarter-life crisis, trying a headstand with close to zero yoga experience, and dangerous chocolate-deprivation for two weeks.

Well, I’m still not sure why I went.

I guess, in a world measured out by Foursquare check-ins and cardboard cheeseburgers, the threat of unreliable wifi and a strict vegetarian diet might have just stricken me as refreshing at the time… Or it might have seemed like one of those trips that would give me granny-cred when I’m old and toothless.

In any case, I packed three of my oldest T-shirts, an insect repellent, iPhone and concealer into a 10 litre Deuter backpack and left for Sivananda Kerala, India.

15 days of curry vegetables, eight unsuccessful headstands, and a close encounter with a hairy palm-sized tarantula later, here’s are three random things I’ve gleaned:

#1 Everybody’s in some kind of crisis

The interesting thing about a clichéd vacation is… well, everyone else was thinking exactly the same thing – everyone in a short-term or chronic crisis seemed to converge at the ashram. I’ve never met so many people with quarter-life, mid-life, three-quarter life crises. There were people who couldn’t get jobs, people who hated what they were doing, tired people, confused people, people who were unhappy for no particular reason…

And perhaps it just seemed like the place for it, but well, people just shared their stories more freely.

The thing was, it wasn’t ‘solidarity of the miserable’ at all. On the contrary, what I realised was that everyone’s got some kind of half-formed plan too. I met a girl who wants to start a sustainable community in Costa Rica, a woman who lost a job she’s had for 19 years and suddenly decided to be life coach, and an ex-banker reinvented as a stopgap-hippie prepped to take on India.

Through their eyes, I saw a vast world of infinite possibilities, only limited by my imagination and courage. And somehow, I started to believe that all we need is a half-formed plan, and then we’ll make the rest up along the way.

#2 Epiphanies are over-rated

I may be saying this because I didn’t have one spectacular ‘moment’… like in the movies. No lightning spark went off, no ‘highlights-of-my-life’ flashbacks occurred – sorry to disappoint.

On my first day, our yoga teacher took us down to the river to mediate. Because every tree, every rock, every weed, he said, has vibrations and ‘memories’ that can heal the mind and soul, and so we’ve got a secret stash of positive vibrations right in our backyard.

This may sound a little new-agey, but I did feel just a tad calmer for that, and it made the crucial difference. I’m starting to think that perhaps, sometimes, instead of waiting for life-changing epiphanies, all we need is to calm our mind and think quietly.

#3 The monsters are really just in our head

No surprises – Monday is the day I hate most – it’s the day the world drags you out of your warm bed and across the street in your sleeping clothes, your hair bedraggled and your knees scrapping against the pavement, and makes you do a stupid tap dance.

The ironic thing was, Monday morning chased me right up to the ashram in India. I had no forgotten deadlines, no early morning meetings, no embarrassingly stupid powerpoint slides, and yet I felt the same sense of anxiety, the sense that I was somehow late for something, had forgotten something, had missed my shot – don’t ask me at what.

Maybe because, as they say, we can run halfway across the world, but we can’t run away from our own demons, fears and anxieties.

And of course, the other ironic thing was that I had to run halfway across the world to truly appreciate that.

More on why I love to travel: Wanderlust
And other Places On My Bucket List