Being Asian and......learning to accept it.

Met a good friend for lunch and coffee today. Well, its funny how Melina and I were discussing about man and the importance of them being at least above average looking. I had asked her, on a scale of 1 to 10, how would she rate her current potential and she shocked me with a 5. I mean, here's a girl that I have the privilege to be a good friend of for almost a decade and she is definitely someone with high standards. 5 is way too low for her.

The guy in question is well to do businessman with a heart for God and ministry to the poor and underpriviledged. Although he is not blest in the looks department, he is according to Melina blest with a good sense of fashion, namely Prada type. So without the good dress sense he probably is a "forgettable" face in the ocean of the local population.

For me, Yan is definitely a 8 and only the dashing Hans Matheson can take the place of 10. Jesus is Lord but the Bible says he is ordinary looking. Hans is so perfect in looks, those soulful blue eyes and dark brows, dark hair and very fair skin. He's also very musically talented, the very two qualities that I am deeply attracted to in man. And thankfully he is straight and desired much to settle down and have his own brood of kids one day according to the interviews that I had read. Looks are indeed very important to me, I just cannot marry a Shrek.

Then it occured to me that I do not actually embrace my own looks. I am far from what I think I am. I looked very asian, chinese and almost mongolian according to Melina since I have single eye-lids almond-shaped eyes and my hair and eyes are so dark, its almost ebony black. My skin tans easily sans the sun block and I have been really fair only when I was in the temperate regions.

I particularly hated it when people assumed that I am from China and speaks to me in Mandarin. May be as a result of all this, I subconsciously am adverse to the chinese language and culture. But of course, as a good child, I had to obey my parents and please them with the routines in customary marriage and so on. But seriously, I had dreamed of being with the man I love, on a remote island, exchanging our own vows sans the church and parents and relatives and returning a changed mature woman, a wife. Such is the state of my wedding fantasies that cannot and should not be carried out for fear of hurting those I love and feel highly responsible to. I guess if Rachel will to do the same, I will recover very fast from the initial shock to join her in her new found joy.

So this is me. Absolutely, definitely a chinese Singaporean yet I feel like an European girl inside of me sometimes trying to learn everything chinese- related. It seems that I was born in the wrong part of the world even, loving more bread, potatoes, pasta as staples rather than rice. And being deeply fond of french language and even loving how german, italian and spanish sounds. I am so in love with the arts and music and even architecture of europe and most of all the seasons, though I have never experienced winter before. I really want to live in Europe one day but as long as my father is around, it will remain a dream. He will not approve of it.

Marrying Yan is as good as marrying an Englishman since he hardly speaks any Mandarin except to his mum in Malaysia. Yan is highly flexible when it comes to food and will enjoy the seafood udon that I've loving and professionally prepared for him tonight. To him, I am an exotic Chinese beauty. Perhaps, that is why God made me for him according to his taste and it was never a divine joke. Well, I love Yan's physique. He is exactly how Hans Matheson would be like in stature and he plays the piano and sings much better than Hans. God is amazing.