毕业日记 (二)

We grew up watching television showing us that graduation was a really big thing, didn’t we? ALL graduates (recall 展翅高飞 starring Michelle Chia, Cynthia Koh; Fann Wong in 新阿郎) were elated to don their graduation gowns and fling their mortarboards into the air.

Now that I am almost completing the ritual, I still have not sensed that feeling of elation. I don’t understand what the big deal is – like my birthdays, you know; I don’t particularly feel for my birthdays.

Is it because I haven’t found my years in school satisfying – like how I felt for graduating with ‘O’ and ‘A’ levels because of the intense effort I put in? Perhaps I haven’t worked hard enough this time. It was only in the past two semesters that I finally tasted the satisfaction of hard work, whether or not it brought good results. Tracy and I were saying we must be crazy to enjoy working hour to hour, taking only short naps to rest. So, without the satisfaction, my tertiary life seems incomplete.

Is it because, besides the Commencement ceremony, there is no official ending point for this phase of education, unlike the previous GCE Examinations and ceremonial chalet parties? This semester, I only have two final examinations scheduled that are well spread out. Because it won’t be exhausting to the mind and body, there will be no need to go for end of term shopping sprees. Other than my summer trip, I see no official point for me to declare: I have graduated!

Is it because, deep in my heart, I actually want to continue and further my studies? Learning has been my lifelong passion. I have been preaching many people that we go to school simply to learn. Regardless of the stuttering lecturer, the lack of resources available, the undesirable group mates, etc. we have the responsibility to thirst for additional knowledge. Indeed, if not for the constraints that I do not wish to share, I would have chosen to further my academic studies for the rest of my life.

There is no door that I can go through, or step that I can climb upon, to mark the starting of a new phase of my life. Graduation? Nah, I don’t feel for it.

Talking To Daddy

Reenactment from what I remember:

*****
Begins with girl clumsily pulling out the home telephone to the living room floor. Lies on stomach and dial.

"Daddy, are you in New York?"

Gets up, holds the telephone in hand. Jumps about happily as she hears Daddy's voice.

"Why is New York an apple?"

Chats a while longer. Prances around. Hears the door open. Whispers,

"Mummy's home. I gotta go."

Hastily puts down phone.
*****

Recall that she skips around in a little pair of briefs while talking to Daddy. And the scene is taken as a long shot, somewhere behind the stairs, like a pinhole camera. It's as if someone (Mummy, perhaps?) is spying.

I dunno, the whole ad seems incestuous and warped to me.

There's a Mandarin version too. She talks about panda bears to Daddy who is in Beijing.

毕业日记 (一)

In a couple of weeks’ time, I will have officially finished my tertiary education. As expected *rolls eyes*, all who held a conversation with me asked what I planned to do after graduation, why I didn’t choose to complete the fourth year. There are many reasons for my decision not go for honors that I simply do not wish to reveal, other than to the friends I feel secure with. Mind you, my grades is not the dictating factor.

As for my plans for the future, I have great plans. But I don’t intend to share such personal issues with you. I know most of you who raised these questions to me were not interested to know kindly trying to maintain a conversation. I appreciate your effort but I’m sure you have already forgotten what I said by now. If you are not sincerely concerned about my future, please stop asking me about it. It only brings out the insincerity on your part and causes reluctance on mine. I am sick of repeating politically correct answers while trying to sound sincere. Unless you are offering to help me progress to a new stage of my life, please choose another topic when you’re talking to me.

When Will Harry Appear?

Much to my delight, I discovered the real life existence of Professor Lockhart, after the appearance of Peter Crouch in the EPL. I wonder if he is as suave, irritating and dumb?

The Fortune Teller Said

In the most mysterious fashion, my mum visited the fortune teller a few years ago without our knowledge. And she returned bursting with Heavenly secrets which I’m sure she did not reveal all of. These are some of things that the fortune teller predicted:

Don’t bother to try to reducing weight. You will only get fatter with age.
Poor mum. The only thing she can do is to maintain her current weight.

Each time you move, your house will be bigger than the previous one.
Cool. But my parents are neither lucky billionaires nor rich businessmen. I wonder how we can move from one big house to the next. Oooh, maybe an unexpected windfall is on the way!

You have two daughters. One of them is slim, the other one plump.
He didn’t know if the elder one or the younger one is slim. But he did know that one of us had to be plump in order for the other to be slim. Baby will have to wait for me to pile on the pounds before she can get rid of hers. This will not happen in the near future because I’m stubbornly eating less and exercising more. She hates me for it.

Your younger daughter will marry late, to a chieftain of some sort.

Translation: Baby will marry a much older man, a very rich much older man.

Your slim daughter is tall and pretty, like a model.
I know I’m not tall… *Sniggers*

She will have many suitors.
No lei, there is none in sight. Very soon, you may hear me start whining what Wanqing once did, “Eh… Seven months already… Why no one chase me? =( ”

She will be working overseas very often.

Yesh! I want. I can't wait to get this job.

She will get married after her third relationship.

Huh... I'm barely over my first one... And if I remembered correctly, I am supposed to marry a non-Singaporean. What I should do now is to get two more boyfriends quickly in succession, then I'll meet the one sooner.

You will be in charge of taking care of her children.

Cool. At least I won't be too old to have children.

Some people think that destiny is in their own hands. Sure you can make your own choices – you just have to pay for defying what has been planned for you. Like my mum, for example, the fortune teller told her she was supposed to marry a few years later than she did. And her punishment: she will leave us before my dad. Until now, he doesn’t know anything about it. Like me, if I stubbornly marry someone before my third relationship ends, I will end up divorced. Better be safe than sorry, eh.

How To Get Her Number

I never understood why you like to ask for the telephone numbers of your objects of interest, when you are usually only mildly interested in them. Neither do I understand why you think that getting her number is the most important step to building a friendship. For most girls, seeing a guy asking for their number for no apparent reason, e.g. in a club or on the streets, is an immediate turnoff. Thus, the first step of asking for her number is already an obstacle. Usually, girls are not willing to give away their contact numbers to almost strangers. At least girls from my social circle. Even if you managed to overcome this barrier and managed to attain her number, what is the probability of love blooming just with a telephone number?

Nevertheless, the scenarios that I mentioned above only refer to approaching her abruptly when she doesn’t even know you. It is a totally different story if you were already somewhat acquainted with her. With the correct tactics, it then becomes really easy to get her number.

Scenario 1: She’s your friend’s friend.
a) Get her number from your friend.
b) During a group outing, which consists of you, her and your friends, casually ask for her number. This works best when the group disbands at the end of the day. You can say you want to make sure she gets home safely. This way, you not only achieve your goal, you will also move her with your gentlemanly gesture. Or you can simply say it is more convenient for this group of friends to contact her for more outings.

Scenario 2: She is someone you have not seen, or being in contact with for a long time.
a) This is easy. Especially if you were only acquainted with her in the past, just be enthusiastic about seeing her again and ask for her number directly.

Scenario 3: You see her around in school and she acknowledges your presence.
a) Get her number from any school mate who has her number.
b) This is a little trickier than the first scenario because you need to create a situation when both of you can chat comfortably. I don’t encourage you to purposely arrange a meeting because it is a frivolous act and lacks sincerity. I suggest you wait for Fate to arrange a coincidental chance for you to eat with her in the canteen, talk to her in class, etc. At an opportune moment, casually ask for her number. A good tactic to employ is to act that you don’t know her name: “Hey, I see you around in school but I don’t know your name,” or “You’re in some of my classes, aren’t you? But I’m very bad with names.”
c) If you’re patient, spend more meetings with her before making the move. The longer you take to ask, the better. You will seem more sincere in improving your friendship.

Scenario 4: You are working with her on the same project.
a) There is no way she can avoid giving you her number.

The success rate of getting her number will be very high if you follow my advice. Despite her indifferent "Yeah, sure," she may be really flattered. However, do not assume that she is clueless about your ultimate intentions because females are highly intelligent creatures who can see right through you. The above methods simply put her in such a position that she is unlikely, or unable to reject you.

Once you get her number, don't leave it to rot in your phone. I know many of you are too shy to take further actions. If so, why get her number in the first place? Do something with it. Make a new friend. But, try not to see developing a romantic relationship with her as your ultimate aim. Instead, aim to be good friends. Let Fate take you from there. You will enjoy the friendship. Remember, sincerity is the key.

A Little Mamak Shop Tale

My neighbourhood mamak shop is just downstairs of my block. And I am its valued regular customer. In fact, for the past eight years, I am a daily customer. This is most probably due to my ceaseless cravings and ferocious appetite. My visits can be divided into phases - Mars bars, Kit Kat bars, Pocky, M&Ms, Chipsmore, Kelloggs' Frosties, and the current one, Hello Panda.

As you would have guessed, the phases represent my cravings stage, from (as far as I can remember) Mars bars to Hello Panda. You will be amazed to know that during my cravings period I have to eat one of the candies above everyday. For example, when I was in the Kit Kat stage, I bought one bar of the XL size Kit Kat bar everyday to chomp on. The craving may come any time of the day, when I am extremely hungry or when I am brimming with the night's dinner. For those who always envy the fact that I just don't get fat, you may be happy to know that during such phases, I did put on a couple of kilograms. My flat tummy would balloon and my Levi's 24 would cut into my flesh (which is the case now).

Thanks to my very high metabolism rate at that time, none of such effects stay for long even if I didn't work out. But happy stories are not everlasting - I am now on medication that lowers my metabolism rate. So if I continue indulging in the mmm...-so-delicious Hello Panda, things may not turn out as well as before...

As I watched the shopkeepers expand (in terms of manpower), they watched me grow up and took notice of my candy binges. Recently, I stepped into the shop, wanting to get my pandas, I realised they were not at their usual shelf. I looked around, trying to spot them, when the shopkeeper said, "It's behind you." I spun and there they were, my beautiful pandas, sitting on their very own gondola. And oh boy, I was utterly embarrassed that the shopkeeper took note of my daily supplements of pandas.

Well, I don't care much. All I need is something chocolatey to munch on everyday, until I can no longer fit into my tiny jeans.

I Knew I Could Pull Off Any Hairstyle. I Know I Can. I'm Sure I Can...

Argh, it's a bother not owning a camera. I wanna show you all my new hair! Instead, I will use some other pictures to try describe my new look. This is what the stylist promised I will look like:

But of course, when we girls take on the greatest risk of our lives, it usually turns out bad unexpected. Trying to shake off my cognitive disonance, I sat in front of my mirror convincing myself that my new hair was fabulous. After a whole hour, I reached a conclusion - that I looked great!

Call me Carrie Bradshaw, peeps. It's a fight between Hui Hui and me! Bring it on!

Oh alright, I'm fibbing. I look more like this:

Which is not bad too! But on the downside, it makes me look older by at least five years. A trip to Mambo proved it all. Hours after I did my hair, I stepped into the long forgotten Zouk. Shaven heads no longer looked at me. Older ones couldn't be bothered to. At the zenith of my glory years ago, in my long, straight hair, I attracted uncountable head turns and even a few asking to be friends. I supposed the outfit helped too. Instead of body hugging halter necks, I went in a boring, auntie-like sleeveless top - it was a last minute decision to go. All we attracted were other shaven heads, the bald ang mohs, who tried to dance with us. But they got bored after they saw that we couldn't pair dance (sexily) with them. Bah.

I dunwan! I wanna be young and cute =( I'm gonna snip off my hair as soon as my hair grows out, good enough to look like this:

Hmm.... I remember I have wanting this hairstyle since 2001, when the model at my workplace had a similar hairstyle. Cooz, I have always been in love with the same look. Soon! In two months time, I'll achieve it.

Maybe We Just Ate Some Sour Grapes

After two days of skipping school to loll around in bed and indulge in self pity, it's time to get my body moving to complete an already overdued assignment, receive instructions for helping out at the Open House this weekend, send applications to my dream companies and give up the run for Best NUS Blog. Just minutes ago, I was on par with the leading contestant. Within minutes, it increased by ten votes. There can only be cheating goodwill involved. I don't have enough indignity friends to fight for it. Good for you, manz. Jiayou.

Recently, one of my school's competitors announced that it had 100% employment of their graduates in the past year. That got my school pissed and an email titled "Lies, ?#@!+& Lies, and Employment Statistics" was sent to us saying that we do have 100% employment too:

There are many ways to claim full permanent employment. Here’s one way: restrict population size:

100% of those who actively sought employment for the full 6 months after graduation were employed full-time. That would not count those who lazed around in Europe for a month, or those who took temporary jobs (since they couldn’t be doing temp and still looking for jobs full-time), or those who go for further studies (not looking for jobs).

Funny.

Moving on, I have some good news. My hearbeat dropped drastically to a normal rate. Yayz! I can attempt the G-Max reverse bungee some time soon. I'm still sore about missing it during the Charity Car Rally. Each team was to send a representative to go up the Reverse Bungee as a challenge. Other team members could also participate with a mere $10 each. Normal price $35 lei! I gave it a miss cos I didn't dare to put my racing heart to the test.

I have some bad news too. My allergy to the first antithyroid drug caused me to sprout five times the size mosquito-bites-like patches all over my body and develop a hacking cough. The antidote puts me to sleep for two hours each time I take it.

Okies. Gotta go~ going for Disney On Ice tomorrow and I'm excited! The last time I watched it was 17 years ago. Sleeping pill drugs will not stop me from going on dates - movie dates, dinner dates and Disney On Ice dates~

"I Like A Healthy Breeze Round My Privates Thighs, Thanks."

(Edited 9/3/06)

(Edited 8/3/06 - I forgot to talk about the main thing.)

Turns out that I'm allergic to my medication. On the last day of my first round of medication, red, angry patches appeared on my thighs. I scratched like crazy cos the patches were so itchy. And the patches spread. Wherever I scratched, the area swelled. To reduce the irritation, I couldn't wear pants - heat trapped in the pants might exacerbate my condition. I couldn't wear a skirt, or pair of shorts, cos the patches were so ugly I was afraid I would scare passerbys. I scared myself too, almost cried.

I am very icky about clusters of patches, spots, dots, small tiles, etc. Imagine the whole of the back of my thighs were covered in patches. EWW! I don't even dare to feel my thighs, let alone look. The only thing I could wear that was suitable for school was a long skirt - the only one I have is a blue wraparound, the one that was in Fareast shops, available in twenty colours, two years ago. Felt quite embarrassed to wear such a passe item.

The wonderfulness of a long, flairy skirt is that I can sit, stand, run in whatever what I want without exposing undesired parts of myself. So I sat in class, scratching like a dog. My foot, pulled up to my lap itched terribly. It was frustrating to scratch without long fingernails so I got out my ruler as a substitute. I guess such behaviour is barbaric to some. But I couldn't care much, stopping the itch was most important. Of course it didn't stop, my scratching just caused more itchy patches to appear. And I was scratching, scratching, scratching in class like an uncouth Chinaman. My classmates must be disgusted. You must be disgusted.

I travelled about with a big bag on my left arm and a textbook on my right, in the skirt that made me stumble. Inevitably, something happened to clumsy me.

I was waiting at the bus stop for our ISB when I saw my wrap around skirt had come loose, with the top of my red knickers peeping out. I was all of a dither, trying to cover up and putting down my things at the same time. Had to hide in a corner, which wasn't exactly hidden, to retie my skirt. My awkward antics won me a few stares.

That was not all. I tried to feel all around that my skirt was secure as I boarded, causing me to fall into an empty seat. Thinking it would be irritating to squirm around in the crowded bus, I sat still. I could not have been more embarrassed after I got down. To my horror, my skirt had undone itself and it had practically fallen off! Luckily there was no one at the bus stop, though I was not sure if people on the bus saw.

Moral of the story: "Wear nice underwear when wearing a wrap around skirt."

Incidentally, if you truly understood what my title meant, lurves you for lurving HP~

Uncle Oscar Humped The Mountain Till Its Back Broke

Title courtesy of Qing

Y'all, fans of Brokeback, congratulations~

It's amusing to know that so many of my friends love Brokeback when they have never seen another Ang Lee or Oscar worthy show (besides Titanic). And amusing to watch the beefy men in singlets and shorts clustered together in the cinema. Rare sight, I say. But h-o-t.

It's not the hot sex in the tent that moved us all, right? Must be the heartwrenching love between two people. It doesn't matter whether the love's between men and women, or solely men or women. It's the power of love that matters.

Oh alright, I guess the sex scenes helped. Which reminds me - Must there be a sexual relationship between two men before they're considered to be in love? Been trying to answer this for ages, because a girl and a boy can be in love without sex. So can two girls. Just wondering about two guys.

And I think it is unfair to suspect the director to be gay simply because he has shot more than one good film based on this theme. I think it's because portraying emotions is Ang Lee's forte and gay theme films is the genre that can best express the most intense emotions.

Thumbs up for Crash too. Have you seen it? It's showing again at GVs. And George Clooney was superduper delectable~

Honesty Is The Best Policy

Before I hit the books again, here's what studious Chowchow/Xiangxiang committed last week:

Poor me mistook the deadline for a particular assignment to be on the same day the test (25% of assessment - missing it is like failing the module already) was to be held. So I wrote into the wee hours of the morning, 4am to be specific. My test was arranged to be held at 8am that day and I planned to wake up two hours before that to travel to school. Unfortunately, I overslept. When I woke up at 9.30am, the test was very much over.

Haha, a crime you thought I would never commit. I surprised myself too. So I was frank to let lecturer know, wanted to simply inform him of my mistake. I didn't ask for a retest because he did specifically say that there would not be any makeup test for absentees unless the student was hospitalised. But of course, though unexpectedly, honesty is the best policy:

Lucky me~ I am very grateful.

******
Remember to vote~

Da Perverts That Exist

So, you must have heard of the body of the missing two-year-old being scooped out of the sewage yesterday. Incidentally, the sewage is in front of where my primary school used to be. Anyway:

I am always appalled to know such perverts exist. Not just the flasher perverts, the molester perverts, but the rapist-cum-murderer perverts too. Really, there must be something terribly wrong in their minds to harm pure, innocent children. If there was something wrong in the murderers' minds, how could the victims' mothers be so blind as to sleep with them as they plotted to prey on their daughters??

My god, the girl was just a baby. How did the man insert his big dick into her? How could he? How did he find a little girl to be sexually appealing? By the time she was found, she was already so decomposed that the pathologists couldn't immediately make out if she was violated. But trust me, if the girl was found naked, she must have been raped, or at least fingered. Imagine the pain the little girl went through. The fear. The helplessness. You saw the grief her grandparents were in? They were screaming in agony, at the loss, at the pain their little granddaughter went through. Their heartwrenching cries sliced a knife through my heart. Oh the beast. They rue the day they let their daughter marry the beast who is the stepfather, the suspect. The killer.

The brings us to Huang Na. I find Ah Hao to be a little more forgiveable than Nurasyura Mohamed Fauzi's stepfather, though nonetheless totally guilty. This is because Huang Na was already a blooming nine year old. She must have "seduced" Hao in her own ways. Seduced not in the mundane sense, but fought to seek attention and affection, most likely unconsciously too. You know she played sick hide-and-seek/blind cat games with this Hao who was not related to her at all? Hao liked to tie her in ropes, and they pretended that she was kidnapped and that he was the kidnapper. S-I-C-K. Not the girl, but the man. The girl was really innocent, she would have thought the games were as innocent as Barbie dolls. She would never have known her antics would stir the beast in her playmate's pants. I do not believe that Hao and the girl's mother were not involved sexually. Why other reason would she have left her girl with this "friend" when she went back to China?

And you hear rubbish things like Hao's wife is gonna support him no matter what. Hello, you wanna sleep with a rapist + murderer? He killed and raped a little girl, for goodness sake! And was sleeping with her mother too! The next thing we need to hear is Nurasyura's mother not believing at all the glaring evidence and insisting that her husband will never hurt a fly and is innocent and shit like that.

It is even more sickening to hear that a man tried to fuck a baby girl who was only a few months old. She died from pain, amongst other reasons, like being crushed under the weight of the full grown man.

These men are just sick. They must all be hanged. But wait a minute. I just watched a documentary that tells of a serial killer who was defending his case based on genetic disorder in the States. As we know, our genes form who we are today, including the murderous instincts, the perverted instincts in the sickest men of the world. According to his attorney, this man had been displaying signs of violence since he was a child and his family tree had produced murderers, robbers, kidnappers etc. He was going to defend the killer by saying he could not help what he did, ie killing innocent people because it was in his genes that he was fated, and meant to kill. What the fuck?!?! I cannot resist swearing. It is just too unbelieavable. Why would the attorney want to help the killer? Did he truly believe that he was innocent and that he should be acquitted to kill more people (since it is in his nature)?

The day that the defense is approved must not arrive. Else we will live in a world of sick men, who cannot be found guilty because it is in their genes. God bless Noi Noi.

Sorry if I sounded incoherent and vulgar, I am just so furious at the such inhuman atrocities done to little children. Send the twisted bastards to hell, please.

Crush-ed

It's been a long time since most of us had our first crush, I believe. We have had crushes on schoolmates, teachers, juniors, seniors, neighbours, celebrities, cousins etc. They are people you don't really know, mostly acquaintances whom you don't get to talk to much. Having a crush, or limerence, is neither love nor sexual attraction. It is a feeling of fondness that causes you to develop hugely powerful emotions.

To have a crush on somebody is a wonderous feeling~ It gives us butterflies in the stomach. It makes us feel an ache in the chest, an ache that is strangely pleasurable. It makes your heart thump so hard (not hyperthoroidism) against our ribs that it hurts. It makes us smile idiotically while sitting in the bus. It makes us visit horoscopes websites to predict our future with him/her. It makes us float in the air, thinking about him/her incessantly.

To date, I have had three objects of limerence, existing in different phases of my life. Only five people know about the first boy who existed when I was nine to sixteen. (Gawd. It is so warped for nine year old kids to be in love.) Because

1. it is too embarrassing to tell my primary school mates that I had a crush on this boy
2. I like to portray myself as someone who has no time for or interest in stupid boys
3. he has grown up to be very different (in a bad way) and I am horrified to admit to myself I was once deeply infatuated with him.

Nevertheless, he was my longest crush, spanned over seven years. I used to think fondly that we had a beautiful affinity and truly believed that he liked me too. I also really understood that distance makes the heart fonder. Even after we graduated from primary school, I longed to see him so much that I looked out for him along the streets of Orchard. My efforts paid off for I managed to finally catch a glimpse of him when I was sixteen - only to find out growth had not been kind to him. My four years of his wonderful caricature was sent crashing to the floor. And my limerence for him ended, just like that.

The second one lasted for at most two months after I just turned sixteen, I don't remember. I started to crush on him after... oops I can't reveal too much else it will be too obvious. He was cute, good-looking, cute, well built, cute, sweet, cute... I was always looking for opportunities to sit down with him alone but he had too many friends, I could never get a private word in. Until once, we were finally left alone in the canteen benches. This seemed to be the chance I had been waiting for but to the horror of my life, I couldn't speak a word. Rocking on the bench, I was desperately tongue tied.

After moments of awkward silence, he excused himself to buy food. I was devastated. I had the chance of the millennium but I let it slipped away. Gathering my courage, I once smsed him, wishing him a Happy Chinese New Year but I was so afraid that he would find out that I found him special, I smsed all of our friends too (though I did customised the message to him). Sadly, this crush just faded with time as we both went our separate ways. Besides, Wanqing warned me to stay clear of him because he belonged to her girlfriend, albeit unofficially.

I acquainted with my third (and lingering) limerent object shortly after my seventeenth birthday. Unlike the rest, almost everyone who knew me in school knew about this crush because I like to tell people about him. I sure even he knew about it. I looked out for him in the canteen, along the stairs, on the assembly ground, in the classrooms just for a little wave and a smile from him. I attended his performance not because I care much about the concert, but simply to watch him. I went to interclass sports competitions to watch him, pretending to support another friend. But graduation was inevitable, I could only look at him from his friendster's pictures ever since.

But we must be fated to meet! My heart a beat, maybe stopped beating for a whole minute when I saw him in my faculty canteen just last semester. After abstinence from limerence for two years, the racing heart, the chest aches, the fluttering stomach butterflies, the silly grin, returned twice as strong as before. But I didn't say hi. I couldn't. I didn't dare. I have never even held a proper conversation with him before. The second time I saw him, I tailed him for a while, heart thumping against the chest, until he got lost amongst the crowd. That's that. I'm too shy.

Is developing crushes a privilege of kiddos only? I hope not, because I will like to experience another crush, on someone who sets my body a-sweating, my heart a-thumping and my spirits a-flying!

Heels That Kill

High-heeled shoes - and the higher the better - force girls' bodies forward from the pelvis and make them move in a way they simply don't when wearing a pair of wellies or flat pumps. It's all to do with the movement of the derriere. Legs feel sexy and calves look sculptured in high heels.

But that isn't the whole story. Shoes have special properties because they draw attention to the most erotically under-played portion of the female anatomy: the foot. Foot worship goes way back to the 13th century and beyond and was a central core of Chinese culture for generations. Indeed, strapping your feet in high heels is actually parallel to committing your feet to the torturous practice of foot binding during the Qing.

But what the shoes are about is glamour: the amalgam of sexiness and sophistication which only the best designers get right. Compare a shoe by Gucci with a cheaper attempt at the same look (and designer shoes are expensive), and you see the difference immediately. It is always worth the while to pay $300 for a pair of good high heels. A good (and expensive) pair subjects a girl's delicate feet to less injury.

Tinselly sparkle, in shoes as in everything else, needs a sure hand to stop it from slipping into naffery. A good high-heeled shoe has the rhythm of a piece of sculpture and the poise of a complicated feat of engineering. It must have balance and strength, as well as beauty. It also gives the wearer an erotic charge - even when every step is agony. Indeed the pain is part of the sexuality.

The pain, oh yes, the glorious pain have to be endured after at most two hours of walking in a pair of high heels. Depending on the height and the material of the heels, there are varying degrees of sores, blisters and raw skin. The steep arch in a pair of heels bring disastrous effects to a girl's knees, lower back bone, feet (for having to bend so unnaturally), especially the balls of the feet (as the girl's whole weight fall onto just 20% of her sole) shoulders, ankles. She practically walks on tiptoe and teeters dangerously. More often than not, she needs to massage her calves at the end of the day and soothe the blisters on her toes and balls of her soles. A warm soak is heavenly to your sore feet - if there is no injury (hurts like hell to dip raw skin in water)

Wearing high heels, although very uncomfortable, puts the girls in charge. And bearing in mind the pain was a crucial part of it; it made them feel strong. Why else do they wear heels with their power suits?

The tip-tap of the tiny but tall heels is the new sound and it brings a warning, It's not for nothing that stiletto heels were named after the deadliest rapier of them all.

"A stiletto is a long, narrow-bladed dagger. This dagger is designed as a stabbing weapon, rather than for cutting, since its long narrow shape allows it to penetrate deeply in a point." - Wikipedia

These shoes are killers.

- Adapted from "The Killer Heels" from the Daily Mail