In my skin

I have been on a diet most of my life.

When I was a kid, because I was a bit chubby and my mom was trying to keep me healthy by keeping all sorts of snacks (the more unhealthy the more I loved them. Of course) out of the house to avoid I would reach for the Nutella jar while doing my homeworks.

When I was a teenager, because I was desperately trying to look like all my skinny, pimple-free friends.

When I moved to Belgium from Italy at 25, because being alone for the first time out of Mamma's home in a completely new environment led me to emotional eating and I gained a whopping 20 kg in just a few months.

If I look at it closely, what I have been doing most of my life wasn't only dieting: I was hating my body. 

I would never accept my boobs. My friends were jealous because they were as flat as a surfing board and they would kill for my bra size? Al doesn't care, Al wants to be flat too because that T-shirts looks soooo much better on them...

I couldn't stand the size of my butt. Did I ever notice that I actually had a very beautiful waist and soft, round hips that I could accentuate with a body-conscious dress? Of course not, Al was wearing sack-of-potato sweaters to hide everything as much as possible. 

So that nobody could see. So that I couldn't see.

I have been "working" so much on hating my body that now I need the help of a psychologist (literally) to help me recover my confidence and the wonder that every woman should feel every single time she looks in the mirror.

I am thinking about this now because I am at the end of two wonderful weeks in Italy and Belgium, spent with family and friends, and I am noticing the price of all the Christmas parties, drinks and aperitivo on my waist. 

I should be thinking about all the wonderful memories I collected in these days but no, the only thing I can think about is how many kilos I gained because of too many slices of pandoro and the abnormal (and joyful) amount of Duvel beers.

I looked at the scale with terror last night for a good 10 minutes while getting ready after my shower (nope, didn't find the courage to actually jump on it. Yet). 

I know that when I'm back to Singapore in two days I'll get back on my 5:2 diet (which totally changed my life, I'll have to write a post on this one) and my usual eating habits that will make me lose the extra kilo(s) quite quickly.

So why am I so scared? Why I am avoiding the mirror so much ?
(Believe me, getting your make-up ready can be quite a challenge when you don't want to look at the reflection in front of you).

Because everything is about my weight. Everything is about our weight. 

If I lose weight, everyone is telling me "Wow you look great! What have you been eating? You should give me your diet!".

If I gain weight, there is always an annoying aunt remarking I'm getting "a little chubby".

Magazines are featuring curvy women because let's be proud of our bodies.

Feminist websites are telling you every other post to stop dieting because you're beautiful as you are (and, on a side note, they make me feel freaking guilty because my brain then goes in stupid loops like "wait I'm a feminist. So I shouldn't care about my weight. But I do care about my weight... So am I not feminist enough??? WHAT AM I").

Brands tell you that you should indeed lose those extra 5 kg because their sizes are getting smaller and smaller.

And so on and so on... Our days are full of crap that reminds us that our weight and shape is a very important matter. Even if the message aims to be a positive one ("let's love our bodies the way they are") in the end, the emphasis on body weight is always the same. And it's always there to hunt me.

I wish one day I will be able to diet to look good for myself and for my boyfriend and some feminist article I stumbled upon on Facebook won't make me feel guilty for it.

I wish one day featuring curvy models or superskinny models won't be a topic of debate anymore (or pride "hey look I'm VOGUE but I'm still publishing an editorial with curvy models now give me an applause") because nobody would care if they are size 0 or size 14.

I wish nobody is going to point out if I lost weight or if I gained it.

Like, for a change, why not asking me who's my hairdresser 'cause my haircut looks great?
(that is why I love the Korean lady at my usual food centre in Singapore, she always gives me the cutest remarks on my style. And her kimchi jigae is great BTW).

Just feel good in my skin for once, and looking in the mirror will be the most normal thing in the world.

And do my 5:2 diet because it makes me feel good and not because I want to look like someone else thinks I should look like.

And go on the scale and losing 500 g won't be a reason for tears of joy. 

And gaining a few pounds would be "pffff what the hell, who cares, I had a good party time. I'll just lose them when I get back to my regular life".

And browse a fashion magazine and finally focus on the clothes and the photos, not if curvy models are featured or not.

I know this is utopia, but I still hope one day I'll be the girl who looks in the mirror and won't think she has to lose a couple of kilos to be perfect. And I wish I won't be the girl who has to repeat to herself "I am beautiful as I am" to be really convinced she is.

I hope I'll be the girl who looks in the mirror and just doesn't care, because in the end it's not that important.

xxx Al

(By the way, happy New Year ;) )

(The illustration is my second digital experiment! Tell me tell me, do you like it?)

The first New Year's resolution

Can you believe I've never ever made New Year's resolutions?

I don't know why.
Probably because I usually spend the first days of the year in a food/hangover coma and in general in a partial lobotomy condition on my couch, surely not thinking about productivity goals.

No but seriously, I would really like to know how many of you use the first days of the year to think about sparkling wishful plans that will bring you to a better bikini body/job/mind peace/etc by Summer holidays time.
Ah! I can see you all in your pajamas on January 2nd, day-3 hair, snacking on calorie-bomb leftovers trying to remember amidst the fog of a 2 day-long hangover (3 days if you're 30+ years old) who the hell was that guy you kissed at the New Year's Eve party.
Those girls who spend the 1st of January making lists of goals and the 2nd of January exercising in the gym and juicing to start the year with a healthy green detox exist only on the pages of glossy magazines. Or at least, if they're real, I've never met them.
If you're one of these mythological creatures please explain me how you manage to do this, because to me you're a big mystery.

(Actually I just realized I don't usually make New Year's resolutions simply because I'm lazy).

So this year I am apparently skipping my No New Year Resolution (NNYR) habit. And as a good Taurus, breaking my routines makes me feel nervous but I kinda feel good about it this time.
(and OK, technically it's not New Year yet, but 2017 is just a couple of weeks away and we're all already thinking what to wear for New Year's Eve anyway).

(in full Al style I just wrote like 300 words without saying anything yet, or better without saying what this resolution is all about. Sometimes I amaze myself with my own logorrhoea, really).

So my resolution is: in 2017 I'm going to BLOG A LOT. And DRAW A LOT.
That's it.

So what is the reason of this SHOCKING revelation, and what makes it so different from the other 2567 times I made such a statement? (I guess you can find at least 3 of these times in the limited amount of posts of this blog if you scroll behind)

Well to begin with, I really really miss writing and drawing.
I've tried meditation, I've tried being more social with strangers, I've tried to stop smoking and cut down carbs and telling myself I'm beautiful in front of the mirror every morning (I think my new therapist - who is amazing BTW - is making me become a bit of a hippie) but I still miss what would really make me happy and healthy.
I miss writing and drawing. A lot.
There is just nothing that makes me as happy as drawing does and there is nothing that gives me more feeling of completeness than rounding a drawing with a post full of random ramblings.

Secondly, I'm sooooo boooored.
I spend way too much time at work and the rest of my time doing primary biological functions such as sleeping and eating.
So what is Al's idea to counteract infinite boredom? Do something completely different.
Something that would project me into an imaginary world of colors and beauty.
Something like drawing.
(Fashion drawing, that is)

Three, I am so freaking lonely that it's even difficult to explain how lonely I am.
I'm not talking about general loneliness. I mean. I'm pretty happy with my boyfriend and my cats.
But you know, sometimes I would need to talk about those girly, frivolous little things that I used to share with my girlfriends back in Belgium in front of a bottle or three of Cava.
Since I just moved to a new city/country/continent I have just one friend here (Mari I love you <3) and my boyfriend and my cats couldn't care less (and rightfully so) about stuff like my new favourite mascara or how my diet is doing wonders...
I just need to express that light, maybe a bit shallow side of me, like I would have done in front of those that bottles of Cava.
Even if nobody will read me, I just need to tell.

And to put a very expensive solemn seal on this whole resolution thing, I bought a new Macbook Pro so at least I don't have the excuse of not having a dedicated computer to work with my art and blog and stuff (it might sound weird but I really used this a lot as an excuse lately to justify my artistic laziness to myself).

AND I also bought a scanner (can you believe I didn't have a scanner??) which allows me to scan my drawings in the comfort of my home or even my bed (yay couch potato mode, my favourite). I finally don't have to run through half city to find a decent print shop or use the scanner at my work (which honestly is quite shitty).

AND a private source told me in all secrecy that Santa is bringing me a graphic tablet for Christmas, and I really can't wait to explore digital painting (I have the big expectation of being able to paint kind of anywhere anytime thanks to this, even while I'm couch potato-ing at the end of a long day or on a plane flying somewhere for work, which is kind of hard to do with traditional watercolors, paints, papers and the whole messy shebang).

Alright wrote too much, gotta go find a nice drawing idea for this post, I'm off.

And while I am going to get that bottle of Cava tell me, what are your resolutions?
(Don't tell me go to the gym and eat healthy, because I don't believe you :p).

xxx Al

Yin-yang

Black & White: Dior Couture Fall 2016

When I opened this blog months ago, I promised myself to keep it up and running consistently: I know I need my creativity in order to feel complete and keeping a blog is the only way to manage to express my artistic self with a little bit of regularity.

This is all because my brain is split exactly in two halves: the scientist, rational and methodological and the artist, chaotic and imaginative. These two halves are constantly fighting with each other in the attempt of becoming once and for all the predominant one. They are completely in contrast, like black and white. But not in an harmonic yin-yang kind of way. I'd say more like a black bold capital "WTF" splattered all over on an immaculate white page.

I am a scientist for most of my day: at work; with many of my friends (well, we don't really talk about science while we get drunk sip wine at a bar on Friday night usually, but sometimes the conversation can shift towards these topics); with my boyfriend, who is a scientist too.
My artistic half is very often silenced, hidden. I hear it screaming sometimes from one side of my head "let me out!" but there is no time, no energy, too many worries... So very often, too often, I decide to ignore it.
And time passes.
And there I am, 4 months gone, no drawing made, not even a sketch. Nothing.
I find myself feeling gloomy and grey, dry, longing for my world of colors without even noticing.

That is when the alarm bell starts to ring, that is when the shouting in my head gets louder and louder, both my two halves are pushing me: "Al, wake up, start drawing again or you're going to freak out and it will be a problem for the both of us!".

I had a lot of these epiphanies in the past. The last time it happened it was a month ago, when I accepted a commission (the results will be soon on the blog, but you can already check some of the drawings in my Instagram feed :) ) so I was "forced" to draw again after a few months of inactivity.

Despite the crazy deadline (20 drawings in 10 days, or better, nights. Gotta love challenges...) and the performance stress, while making these drawings I felt like liberated: my head was freely roaming in a world of colors and shapes, finally abstracting from all the issues and worries that every day are keeping my head too occupied and messy (those of you who suffer from generalized anxiety will understand what I mean...)
My drawing moments became almost meditation sessions.

At the end of it all I was exhausted, but also proud to have made the deadline and completely re-energized: I had defeated, if only for a while, that horrible clash in my head and I was feeling like my two halves were reunited in a much more balanced type of black and white. Maybe not as balanced as yin-yang yet, but at least not as in contrast as before.

I don't know if I will ever reach a permanent equilibrium, honestly. My psychologist used to tell me my two personalities will probably always be in a fight and the struggle to reach the almost-impossible goal of making them get along perfectly was damaging me. She always suggested I should rather accept it, and try to live with it.
On one hand, she's right. But on the other I feel like when I am drawing everything is at peace again.

And here I am, promising myself once again to keep it up with painting as regularly as I can. I don't know if it will work as well as I hope, there are major life changes on the horizon (I'll talk about this soon, but I can already say it involves moving far far away from my beloved Belgium...) and at work the situation is never quiet, but I'll do my best... I feel like I owe it to myself, like a healthy diet for my brain.

Wish me luck.

xx Al

Lesson learned (or "of Google and break-ups")

There is a lesson I learned the hard way, after my (in)famous break-up.
And, after a conversation with my sister about this topic, I promised myself as a New Year resolution: never forget this lesson.

But to tell you what this lesson is I'll have to start from the beginning.

So what is the main thing you do in the months days after a break-up? I'll tell you: Google.
It initially happens because you realize that your friends and family will shun you and never talk to you ever again if you dare to ask the same question for the 346676564th time.
So you turn to Google.
"Because Google will know what I have to do, Google will KNOW what is gonna happen."
And then it becomes an addiction.

So this is more or less the history of google searches in the first month after a break-up (or a divorce).

Chronologically:

"how to overcome break-up"

"will he change his mind after break-up"

"should I text my ex"

"what to eat when you don't want to eat"

"methods of suicide"

"suicide helpline"

" how to make him regret break-up"

"how to find new boyfriend"

"too much alcohol after break-up normal?"

"how long break-up pain lasts"

"single after 30 will I ever get married"

"break-up desperate help"

"WILL I DIE ALONE???"

The outcome of all this is to basically prove you that every self-help website is telling you the same obvious stuff (find a hobby, see your friends, go out to find someone else. Wow, genius!) and the only effect of visiting Oprah's website compulsively is just to make you feel like everyone else is so good at handling their traumas and getting their shit together except you.

Long story short the leaves are falling, the snow is coming, the birds are singing: a year has passed and you find yourself still googling stuff like:

"do I need therapist after break-up"

There must be something wrong here. There must be something very wrong when after a year you're still treating damn google like an oracle and source of all wisdom.
After three years a while I realized what was going wrong. I realized why I couldn't find peace and I needed to ask compulsively my friends, my sister, my mother, my aunts, my grandma, my dad, the bottom of my empty glass of wine AND google the same questions over and over again.

And the reason was: I needed a solution. But there simply was no solution.

I needed a solution to feel good fast, because I was surrounded by people and situations that were constantly telling me how I should feel better already, how I shouldn't be selfish and think only about my pain, how I should always put a smile on when I'm at a social event even if I the only thing I want is to burst into tears and scream that it's not fair, how I should behave at work like nothing happened because otherwise it's not professional.

So I needed a quick and easy fix to make myself acceptable from society again and to find a way to make the pain slightly more bearable.
And google is so good at quick and easy fixes.

But no. It doesn't work like that.
There is one thing that no google link will tell you, and it took me three years of therapy and painful conversations with my inner self to realize it.

That is the lesson, probably the biggest I've learned, and somehow I hope that you, unknown girl who is googling "how to overcome break-up" will stumble upon this page and will read this.
Dear unknown girl, I hope that this will help you to save the 40 euros a week I spent in shrinks and spend them in shoes the real important things instead.

The lesson is: you have to allow yourself to feel like shit. Simple as that.
You don't have to google how to feel better because there is simply no way to feel better so soon. And you don't have to. You have the right to feel as bad as you want in the ways that you feel more suitable for you and as long as you need. 

We live in a society that makes you feel like you have to be perfect all the time. A society that makes you feel like you have to please everyone around you with your amazing abilities and extremely well developed savoire faire: your parents, your boss, your friends, the friends of your friends, the attendees of a work meeting, your colleagues... A society that at the first sign of stress or sadness pushes you to look for a psychologist, a yoga course, a cat cafe' for pet therapy and three new hobbies to keep yourself busy. This is a society that doesn't even contemplate the concept of "recovery time". It's a society that, basically, doesn't allow you to feel like shit.
And the worst part is, we are so used to this mentality that if we do actually feel like shit (which is actually very human and natural and healthy) we feel guilty .

The key is to remember one very simple thing: something bad happened to you, you are ENTITLED to feel bad about it.

That's it, this is the lesson I learned, and I feel like it will help me a lot in many other parts of my life and in my next break-ups (yep, I'm totally Queen Optimism).

Less Google, more acceptance of my weaknesses. And a little patience.

And happy New Year everyone :)

xx Al

Miss insecurity

Lately I feel so ugly that every time someone is coming in my office to ask me a question I feel the urge to hide under my desk.

My head lives in a constant bad-hair-day, I have horrible circles under my eyes and it looks like every pore on my face has decided to explode in a horrible pimple. And of course I've got nothing to wear.

But my boyfriend still tells me that I'm beautiful, my friends still make compliments on my style and a colleague of mine told me I had a nice make-up a few days ago.

I might not be at my best, but apparently I am not so horrible. So why do I keep seeing a monster in the mirror?

I know why.
It's because I'm affected by the same illness that (almost) every girl I know has: it's called chronic insecurity.