The Never Ending Story (Baby Making Part 38)

Glucose screening came out aaaaaaaaaaand… NEGATIVE! BOOYAAAAAAAAAH! YIIIIIPPEEEE KI YAAAAAAAAAAAY! [60 seconds firework show]

Okay. Burst my bubble time. So you already know about that from my Twitter and Facebook. Boo hoo so I updated every second of my life (Actually I don’t. I update my status like once or twice a day) (Please don’t spit on my blog) (Or my Twitter) (Or Facebook)

Well, negative means that I don’t have to:

1) Be induce ASAP coz I heard it sucks but then again IF I’m overdue, I still have to be induce which is double the FUUUUUUUUN (Sarcasm)

2) Go for C-sec (This one I can’t guarantee coz… I’ll tell you that later)

3) Chances for diabetes in later years is very slim [FIST IN THE AIR] [TRIUMPH FACE]

4) I can EAT, EAT, EAT WHATEVER I WANT (moderately of course) [Eyes darting nervously elsewhere][Hide chocolate ice-cream]

Buuuuuuuuut… baby is STILL huge (3.5kg plus minus and will keep on growing until I give birth) and both doctors (I asked 2 doctors for different opinions) have no idea how, why and whuuuuuuuuuuut made my baby boy grow so fast within 2 weeks.

So I asked both doctors whether my body can push out a melon that size and;

Lady doctor said, “C-sec. Just to be in a safe side”

Guy doctor said, “Let’s try natural first and we’ll see how it goes from there”

Me, “I can haz purple balloons?”

I know I am being in denial by NOT WANTING TO THINK about labor right now. I am just taking one day at a time and see where I’ll go from there.

I mean, living each day is already a pain in the ass. Literally speaking.

Everywhere is aching and sometimes, in an extreme pain. My ass, my lady thingie, my feet, my hands, oh… suffice it to say that–EVERY SINGLE BODY PARTS ARE EITHER THROBBING OR ACHING OR JUST PLAIN PAIIIIIINFUL.

So to think about labor is like adding cheese to my already excruciating cake of joy.

I told both doctors we’d see when the time comes. Vajayjay or C-Sec. Whichever is necessary that time, I’m game.

Since I won’t be giving birth anytime soon (plus minus 2 weeks so the doctors said), I asked whether I could go to work. Honestly, yes, it’s great to be at home but God, the waiting game is slowly driving me nuts. People said I should take this time to rest and take a lot of sleep. I can’t sleep. I CAN’T FRIGGIN’ SLEEP. In 24 hours, maximum sleeping time for me is 3-4 hours. With 4-5 times of waking up to go to the toilet in between. Pregnancy insomnia is real, trust me.

But doctors said HELL NO. This is because my blood pressure has shoot up high this week and if I’m being put in a stressful situation (at work? Really? Stress? Me? NOOOOOOH! THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE!) might aggravate me more and a lot of medical crap talk that I couldn’t be bothered to write down here in case I, myself will doze off in boredom.

So, no going to work. Officially staying put off work. Bah. Humbug. What do I do to kill time?

I listed few things I will do such as;

1. Read all my books.

2. Learn how to bake cakes/biscuits (?) (The question mark is because my fingers are still throbbing so point numero two is a pending thing to do)

3. Take a long walk everyday to induce labor naturally (With my swollen feet, GOOD LUCK ME)

4. Rest. Rest. Rest.

See? I can only come up with 4 things to do. What. A . Doofus.

There must be more for me to do but WHAAAAAAAAAAT? Sigh. So before I started to come up with other things to do, I might as well start reading all my unread books and we’ll see what I can do once I finish reading all the books.

Well, looks like Baby Making series will continue on until God knows when (Trust me. It's not something I want either).


(UPDATED) Banyak Gilak Dosa Ya Kali Banyak Gilak Masalah (Baby Making 37)

“The rise and fall of a messy affair” That was my first thought when I heard about some celebrities broken marriage news. Nothing good ever comes out of an open relationship especially when you’re married. Nope. Nope. Nope.

After I finished grumbling to myself about commitment and marriage and lust, I called up my sister and asked her to drive me to my doctor for my routine check up. 

Ever since last night, I had been plagued by the thought of, “Hey… MAAAAAAAAYBE… Just MAAAAAAAAYBE… I have what they called gestational diabetes…?” As usual, I Googled my curiosity and symptoms such as edema (swelling) hand and feet, extreme thirst, big pregnancy belly… could it be? COULD IT BE?

The first thing my doctor said when I came in her office, “YOU’RE HUGE!” Like, duh… Didn’t she get the memo that I’m giving birth to a baby whale?

She took my blood pressure –normal. Then she asked me to step on the weighing scale and HOLY APPLE iMAC 27-inch: 2.7GHz! I couldn’t believe my ears when she said -71KG. SEVENTY ONE KILOGRAM! AAAAAEEEEIIIIIII! THAT’S THE SAME WEIGHT AS A WHITE BACK GORILLA!!! FOUR MALE ADULT WHITE BACK GORILLAS TO BE EXACT!!!!

My doctor was crunching her forehead when she jotted down the figure and said, “2 weeks ago you were 67kg and today… hmmm…”


As she poured gel on my belly for scanning, I asked her to check whether my baby’s head still engaged and the update of my previous placenta calcification. She ignored me totally and concentrated on measuring my baby and said, “Your baby is 3.5kg already. Plus minus 500g”

Wait. What?


I was already breathing hard and starting to wish the Mister were with me instead of my sister who was already dancing excitedly when the doctor said I have all the signs of gestational diabetes and if it’s true, I might have to go for early labor –via C-Sec as soon as possible.

Truthfully, I have nothing against C-sec. I am open to all options. My aim is just one –as long as the baby is out and healthy, I’m game with anything including pushing him out of my butthole. But then again, the sucky part about c-sec is the long recovery period and the limited movement I’m allowed.

But since there’s no trace of sugar in my urine, the doctor asked me to come again tomorrow to do a glucose screen. IF I do have GB and it’s pretty high, I will be either induce or C-sec. However, to be induced and go natural post a high risk for the baby. Since my baby is pretty big for 37 weeks, the chances of his shoulders being too broad/big may hinder the chances of him being delivered naturally as it might harm him to pass through the birth canal. So the other option is –C-sec.

The doctor also notice I have too much amniotic fluid in my uterus. GREAT. What’s next?

So this apparently is another sign of diabetes caused by blood sugar levels aren’t well controlled.

But she did say that MAYBE because of my amniotic fluid too much that made my baby seems … large. If that’s the case, that means he might be 3kg and below (plus minus) and able to be born naturally.

Oh dear God. Is there any GOOD news for me aside from MAYBE or scientific guesses? 

I’m getting pretty tired of being sick, swollen, in pain, bla bla bla for 9 months that by now, I am ready to tell my doctor, can you just cut me open now and be done with it? Like, seriously. I know I shouldn’t sound so whiny and ungrateful that many other women out there are facing worst but really… I’m just tired. I am ready more than ever to hold my son and start a new journey as a mom and forget about the whole 9 months of suffering.

Le sigh…

I hope by tomorrow I shall know the result of my blood sugar so the Mister and I can make a decision on what’s what next.

Pray for me, will you? It would mean so much. Thank you.

Glucose screening done yesterday. Went to the hospital at 7am, took some blood, was asked to finish a bottle of sugared water and two hours after that blood taken again and the best part- result will only be out NEXT WEEK MONDAY! Gah! Lamak nya nak tunggu result!

The... Oh Whatever. I'm Whining Again. Bite Me (Baby Making Part 36)

The voice in my head keep telling me to write a letter to my baby for remembrance sake but I know one day when he grow up and read my letter to him, he’s going to roll his eyes and mutter, “Mom… you’re WHINING in your letter to me again. Don’t you have anything NICE to say to me aside from talking about your pain, pain, pain of carrying me for 9 months?”

So I came up with this:

Dear Baby Boy in My Belly,

Hi. How are you? I am fine, thank you.

When are you coming out? I know there’s about 2 weeks plus minus till you due date but I’m already a waddling Mashmallow man and it’s not a pretty sight. 

So, erm, yeah. Chat with you later!

Love, Your Mom, the host of the belly you’re living and growing in.


Simple. Nice. And straight to the point.



After debating with both logics for few days, I decided to listen to the latter and submitted my early maternity leave application. Sucks that my body refuse to cooperate with my brain to still wants to work but as my doctor said, “You are just harming yourself in every kind of ways by pushing beyond your limit”


So, here I am. At home. Unable to sleep day and night –pregnancy insomnia, unable to find a comfortable sleeping position (most of the time I sleep sitting up), and worst; both my arms and hands fall asleep as soon as I dozed off. No matter if I put it on a pillow, it will still pain me like FOOORRRRKKKK THIS IS CRAZY SHIT AGONY MAN. I miss sleeping…

I shall change my status from human to nocturnal creature soon.

Hospital bags are readied like a month ago. The only thing I haven’t done is the baby’s crib. There’s a lot of stuff still cramp in the crib that I haven’t clear and arrange. Even his clothes are still folded in boxes (washed!) and not yet place in his cupboard. I guess I’m waiting for the nesting instinct to kicks in but so far… none. Or I’m just plain lazy. YES, FOLKS, I AM A LAZY NOCTURNAL WHOOHOO! [THROW CONFETTI][DANCE IN MY UNDERWEAR][SINGING WE ARE THE CHAMPION IN MY LOWEST VOICE]

Okay. That’s all for now.

Fingers are throbbing already. Grr!!!!

Surviving... (Baby Making Part 35)

For password, please email me at balqizdotcom at geemail dot com. Loyal readers, the password is the same as all the Baby Making password. Thank you.

Let's Get Paranoid! (Baby Making Part 34)

So there I was absence from the cyber world for… few days? It feels like a lifetime.

I wish it was because of me protesting against SOPA and such. But unfortunately I am not so noble and hardcore about the whole SOPA and PIPA and yeah, yeah, yeah I know if it materializes, I will get the full brunt of it but right now, it’s the least of my concern.

One morning, sometime this week, I woke up and I couldn’t lift my phone to off the alarm. My right hand was all jammed up. Pain was shooting up and down from my fingers to my elbow. I was too shocked to say and do anything aside from whimpering in agony.

I was so used to having a well functioning right arm that when I can’t even form a fist; my brain instantly sent me into a paralyzed state, fear that I might not be able to use my hand forever.

So for few days, I couldn’t do much but sleep my life away. I can’t type on keyboard and phone. I can’t lift up anything heavy not even a bottle of milk. And forks and spoons are devil’s own tools. I spend 10 minutes trying to fork a piece of chicken meat. Pathetic and sad at the same time.

I’m okay now. Finally today I can feel my right hand and when I flexed my fingers many times, I feel human again. But temper is still short and easily ignited so, yeah, I make one hell of a lousy dinner party guest. I'll just talk about my agonies 24/7 until the host vomit blood on my head and kick me out and ban me to enter her social circle in the future. Whatever.
I’m jotting this down so future me can read and remember OH WOW WHAT A FUN FACTORY FULL OF PAIN I WAS!

There. I said it out loud.


P/s Since I can't lift my heavy SLR anymore, I use my iPhone to appease my photo addiction. I'm on Instagram and if you would like to add me, my ID is Balqiz.

Yup. Belly is getting lower and lower by the day [Insert song HOW LOW CAN YOU GO? HOW LOW CAN YOU GO!]

Another Month? Plus Some? Whoo-hoo! Get Ready To Be Cranky(er)! -Baby Making Part 33

I almost couldn’t believe that today finally is Friday. LIKE, REALLY? IT’S FRIDAY? YOU’RE NOT KIDDING ME ROITE? ROOITE? [Insert unbelievably large bulging red menacing eyes]

Yes, FINALLY tomorrow is Saturday and the next day is Sunday and I can rest and sleep and lift my legs up like #taukeynio for two straight days. That is… if I can stand NOT to do laundry or cooking or cleaning or vacuuming…

O Sloth in me, please hear my plea… make me a lazy, lazy marsupilami…

I’ve been drearily and tiredly diligent about the whole being heavily pregnant and still going to work and coming home and cook and clean over the last couple of days that I swear I was up to a point that I was only functioning on sheer will alone.
I don’t walk as fast as I used too. Nowadays, it takes me at least 10 minutes to walk from my car to my office building when before, it took me less than 3 minutes. When I walk, I figuratively drag my feet; one at a time, to wherever be my destination is while biting back sighs and groans over my painful legs. The other day I solemnly acknowledge a baby snail was moving faster than me and if I’m not wrong, I heard ‘em cackled, “LOSER!” when it managed to overtake me. Whatever. At least I have opposable thumbs! And I can drive a car! Hah!

People who see me rollin’, they hatin’ at the office corridor always either;

1) Plaster themselves to the wall as so to give me a wide space to move about (DO I LOOK LIKE A HAIRY, SWEATY MAMMOTH TO YOU GUYS?), or
2) Grimacing and cringing as if they can feel my pain or the fact that my giant belly scares them. Oh sweet merciful crap, people! Pregnancy is BOO-TEE-FOOL! See these stretch marks lining up my ass? THAT’S BOO-TEE-FOOL! I repeat BOO-TEE-FOOL! (I don’t know am I making any sense at all right now)

Braxton Hicks comes as often as a million bazillion times a day now and I’m handling it like a pro. But at nighttime, while I sleep and my belly started to harden up so hard, I whimper like a slobbering monkey. Some says it’s because my belly gets too cold (I sleep with the air-condition 17 degrees and full blast fan –all at the same time. What? I’m a mammal. A breeding, hot blooded mammal) While my doctor assures me Braxton Hicks is normal and that it just shows the delivery is coming soon. How soon, I asked. He just grinned. That is not an answer! GIVE ME THE DEFINITE ANSWER!

Since my doctor is not cooperating with me very well, I went and ask my baby instead. I tapped my belly and asked, “Son, when are you coming out? Week 37?” no response. “Week 38?” Silent. “Week 39?” again, nothing. “Week 40?” Slight movement. “Are you coming out at week 40?” Nothing. “Ok, let’s try this again. Maybe my voice was muffled by all the food I gorged just now. So, are you coming out on week 37?” Kick. Nudge. Kick. “Is that a yes?” Nothing. “SON! YOU ARE SO INDECISIVE!” and the Mister said I’m crazy.

During my last check up, my doctor detected white specks on my placenta. This is called Placenta Calcification. I was, of course, was already pulling every hair on my head when I heard this even though I have no freaking idea what the hell was it. Turns out it s a sign of premature aging of the placenta and that the more it calcified, the less amount of nutrition and oxygen going to the baby. Hearing this, I went instantly bald and biting my nails rapidly. Doctor said not to worry, as it is normal in the third trimester. Again, he is talking to a wrong person. ME? NOT WORRY? LOOK AT THESE NAILLESS FINGERS! LOOK AT THIS BALD HEAD! YES! THAT’S WHAT I DO WHEN I’M WORRIED!

I went to another doctor for second opinion and again I was assured all is well and it is normal. TRYING HARD NOT to worry, I told the second doctor of the pain I have in both of my arms. She said (what I already know based on my research **ahem**Google**) that it is indeed Carpal Tunnel but with a twist –It is also water retention. I know what you’re thinking –WATER RETENTION ON ARMS? HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE? WHAT SORCERY IS THIS? She went on to explain to me where and how and whatchamacallit thingamajig about water retention and Carpal Tunnel and how it relates yetta yetta yetta boring dull oh gadz let’s talk about plumbing instead maybe it’s more fascinating snore snore snore.

So her conclusion is: wear a wrist guard.

It works. My arms don’t ache that much. But it doesn’t goes with anything I wear. Bah. Humbug.

So yeah, after many days of not typing, I managed to type today. Both arms feel much better and I hope, hope, hope once the baby is out; I will no longer have to use that Robocop wrist guard (which everyone assured me that all pain will be gone, vanish, kapoof and zilch after giving birth but I’m not putting my money on that old wives tales –Google said some women retain the pain, the marks and scars of pregnancy and so I am on standby mode for any signs of permanent damage)

That’s my pregnancy update for now. Tune in for the next ranting another week or time, whichever comes first.

Till then, ciao.

Oh Wow. Angry Me Coming Right Up!

“You’re so bitter lately. What’s up your ass, mommy-to-be?”

1. Yes, I am bitter. I will get back to that later.

2. And in my current mood, the last statement added my bitterness. To me, that sarcastic remark to tell me to take a chill pill and that as a mother to be, I shouldn’t be cursing and ranting too much? Well, get the fuck off my lawn if it bothers you too much, O-righteous-one!

About my bitterness that I’ve been spewing lately, I ask you, who wouldn’t be bitter when you have a so called “close friend” who insult and put you down with her every words. Oh she doesn’t say it right to my face of course. She does it in her own sneaky, slimy way by inserting it in a joke and butters it up by laughing it off. There’s nothing funny about it. Not one bit.

I’ve been keeping it silently inside for the past few months but lately Balqiz is spewing bloody bullets back with every insulting remark she receives!

Look, everyone who knows me, KNOWS what a good friend I am. I don’t think twice to lend a hand when help is needed and to me, sacrificing time, energy and money to help a friend in need is always worth it. I may not be a saint or dripping with wealth and shower people with money and such but I like people in general and find them fascinating. I guess my genuine interest in what they are saying, their ideas, their problems and so on and so forth, makes me a good listener and an understanding one.

I listen patiently to people EVEN WHEN they brag, complain, bitch and rave. I give advice when ask or when necessary. If they refuse to listen, fine by me. I’ll still be here listening. But everything comes to a halt when my effort is being slam dunk HARD and FUCK to the ground.

Like, come on! When she cried her eyes out because of heartbreak, I was there with both shoulders for her to cry on. When she got promoted at her work, I was there to cheer for her success. When she needed help, I was there to do all that needed to be done. And many, many more. Not once I envy her rich, successful life because to me, everyone deserves the blessings they receive, be it fair or not. Maybe she works hard at it? Maybe it’s her karma? God knows and I am happy when she’s happy. I am always happy when any of my friends are happy.

But what do I get in return? She insult me personally and put me down as if I am worth nothing more than a dead beetle’s carcass.

Where did I go wrong? I don’t know. All I know is that this so called friend of mine finds me the perfect candidate to churn out her anger, jealousy and malice at lately. I know that despite her so-called perfect life that she always brags about, she’s actually unhappy underneath. So when I’m happy, she’s torn whether to be happy for me or to allow her jealousy that she’s not happy herself to surface. Most of the time she spew it out and I get the brunt of it. And because she’s selfish and wanted the limelight to shine on her all the time, she makes everything that happen, all about her. Even when it’s MY success and happiness, she will MAKE it all about her instead.

And when that is not enough, she will openly put me down and insult me just to make her feel better about herself.

When I share with her my passion, she question and ridicule it. E.g. “You blog? WHY? That’s so lame! Like, come on! Blogging is for pathetic bozos! Hahaha! Are you pathetic? Or a bozo? Hahaha!”

When I tell her of my happy news, she said she’s happy for me too but then later will make fun about it as if my success is a bloody joke. E.g. “Congratulation on your latest promotion! I am so happy for you! Too bad the increment is not as big as what I received last year when I got promoted. But it’s better than nothing right? At least now you can afford to buy yourself the Couch handbag you always wanted. Couch. Hahahaha! Yeah that’s a brand that only people like YOU can afford hahahaha I go for Gucci or Prada and I have a whole wardrobe full of it!”

When I said it’s my dream to have a family of my own, she said I’ll be wasting my life away taking care of a wailing infants and made me promise to never have a child for the rest of my life coz she would hate to lose a friend to a baby.

I know. DAFUG, right?

I don’t know how all these while I managed to put up with her. But during this pregnancy, my tolerance level is below average. And that explain the bitterness shooting out here and there lately.

Recently, she exclaimed out loud that all her friends are getting married and that she has no intention to get hitch anytime soon, let alone breed like rabbits. And that she rather uses all her money and time on a fabulous vacation oversea.

I asked her point blank, “Are you insulting me? Coz it feels like so since I am breeding now”

She said, “Of course NOT! I’m just talking about my other friends!”

What other friends? I can count with my Carpal Tunnel Water Retention fingers how many friends she has and how many are currently pregnant or even married. ONLY ONE and that person IS ME.

So I fired back, “Really? And who are these friends of yours?”

“Oh you don’t know them. They are my colleagues and yoga buddies” she answered nonchalantly.

Tired of her artful dodger way, I simply said, “Look. Even if you REALLY meant your other friends with that statement, I am still offended because it does sound like you’re talking about me since I am married and starting my own family. Next time when you want to insult anybody, make sure you look around first to see whose listening”

Still defending her innocent, she said “Aww come on! You know me! I’m not talking about you! I’m just tired of these people who constantly talk about their upcoming nuptial and they pregnancy updates and so on and it’s boring. I’m just saying I’m better off being unmarried than shackled like they are. Life sucks for them”

“And you constantly showing off your wealth and success are not boring for your friends? And that when you’re happy, it’s NOT boring for your friends to listen about you going on and on about it? Be human for once in your life. This selfish slut image is getting thin”

And I stopped our conversation then and there. Bitch needs a spice slap once in a while but hormones don’t allow me to lift my hand so instead, words is enough for now.

Dude, I am so delirious because of this thing called ARRRGHH ARRGHHH ARRRGHH ME ARMS ME ARMS! (Baby Making Part 32)

My Carpal Tunnel is getting worst. Not only it pains my left arm, now my right arm is all stiff and numb.

Sleeping is an agony.

Sleeping on my left side: PAIN! PAIN! PAIN! TURN! TURN!

Sleeping on my right side: NO! PAIN! ALERT! NUMB! ARGH!


Sleeping on my stomach: ARE YOU INSANE, WOMAN?!

As mentioned previously, I can’t even hold my camera steady. Now most photos are shaky and blurry (refer to my last Fab Friday photo) and Photoshop is just shitty for my aching arms (I can hear people whispering “WHEN WILL YOU STOP MOAAAAAAAAAANING AND COMPLAAAAAAAAAINING BAH HUMBAG WOMAN”)

What I’m trying to say here is that I might reduce my blogging for the time being. Typing is still bearable but no photos and I hate blogging without photos. It’s like eating plain rice. No salt. No chicken. No veggie. No nothing. Just plain white rice. Tasteless. Boring. Humdrum. Pfft.

I supposed all of you agree with me in this matter. Coz like, who the hell would READ a long ass blog post nowadays, roooooooite?

I’ll still be on Twitter and Facebook. Mostly on Twitter coz I’ll be on my iPad. I can’t Tweet much on my phone. CARPAL TUNNEL IS DAMNED! I can’t even hold a book long enough. I just prop it on my pillow and read it till my neck started aching. Man…

But like what the Mister said, “Few more weeks, Love. Few more weeks to go”

I'll be back soon. Soon as in when I successfully send my Carpal Tunnel to hell.

Till then, ciao.

P/s By the way, did you check out my new header? No? GO CHECK IT NOW, WOMAN! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?


H: How… Whaa… Tell me you DID NOT carry THAT all by yourself?

W: Of course not. I asked the shop’s porter to help me carry it into the car.

H: And how did you take it OUT of the car?

W: I pushed and I pulled and I dragged and I left it at the garage for you to carry in.


W: I attribute it to my crazy hormones that can’t stand to see all my books scattering on the reading room floor.

H: Please. Never. Do. This. By. Yourself. Again.

W: What’s the big deal?


W: Point taken.

The bookshelf was in a box; unassembled and packed tight like IKEA’s packaging and it was so heavy, I must be BONKERS to think I can bring it out of the car by myself. But by sheer INSANITY, I managed to “pull” the box out of the car by myself but couldn’t go further than that. I couldn’t even push an inch of it further and so the box was standing just next to my car, waiting for the Mister to come home and solve the matter for me. Apparently, being pregnant does not give me super human strength.

That evening, Mister had a field good time assembling the bookshelf together and once done, I had my share of happiness by arranging all my books in the new shelf. The other bookshelf was already overflowing and vomiting books and whatnots so clearing it up was euphoria of its own. Other female enjoy gardening and shopping. I enjoy arranging my books on bookshelves and brew love potions while dancing naked under a full moon. Same thing. Po-tay-toh. Po-tah-toh.

The reading room now is neat and tidy and looks more like a reading room with two mammoth size bookshelves.

Now that is my definition of a fabulous Friday.

What about you?

If you’re a man, read up. If you’re a female and 30, this is for you. If you’re a female but not 30, shut up. Your time will come.

I received this email from a friend and it made me grin like a loon the entire time. It’s so accurately true that I know I must share it here in my blog and at the same time, I’m going to ask the Mister later whether he think it describe me to the dot or not [BETTER BE DOT!].

Ladies, embrace our 30s! 

Andy Rooney wrote this from CBS 60 Minutes.

He says: 

“As I grow in age, I value women who are over 30 most of all. Here are just a few reasons why: 

A woman over 30 will never wake you in the middle of the night to ask, “What are you thinking?” She doesn’t care what you think. [It’s not that I don’t care but I respect the Mister’s personal space. He knows that if he wants to talk about his thoughts or problems, I will be there listening. But if he feels like keeping it to himself, it’s fine by me. I’m not going to wrestle him to death over matters like, “WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? SHARE WITH ME WILL YA?!”

If a woman over 30 doesn’t want to watch the game, she doesn’t sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do. And, it’s usually something more interesting. [The Mister would watch his favorite TV channel (which I don’t watch. Coz it’s boring. I’m sorry, Love. I love you!) while I sit somewhere reading or blogging or sleeping. Most of the time he’s the one checking up on me whether I’m still breathing or doing something far more interesting and join me.

A woman over 30 knows herself well enough to be assured in who she is what she is, what she wants and from whom. Few women past the age of 30 give a hoot what you might think about her or what she’s doing [Took me a while to be at this stage. Yes, I lapse once in a while still but most of the time I just flick if off like nasty little bug. YOU BITCH ABOUT ME, BITCH? BITCH THIS! (FLICK BITCH’S FACE FEROCIOUSLY)

Women over 30 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won’t hesitate to shoot you, if they think they can get away with it. [I can always get away anything because I’m always right. Oooh I am SO going to get one nasty FLICK by admitting this out loud] 

Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it’s like to be unappreciated. [Correction: We praise what we see deserve to be praised. If you come up to us telling us that you successfully shove 30 pieces of cigarrete butts up your nose, GROW UP

A woman over 30 has the self-assurance to introduce you to her women friends. A younger woman with a man will often ignore even her best friend because she doesn’t trust the guy with other women. Women over 30 couldn’t care less if you’re attracted to her friends because she knows her friends won’t betray her. [Why bother? We know we have it better here (shake sexy perky well-toned ass)

Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 30. They always know. [True that. I can always tell when the Mister is up to no good –like snacking on fast food when he knows junk food has been scratch off from his very existence the minute he enter this marriage

A woman over 30 looks good wearing bright red lipstick. This is not true of younger women. [No comment (slowly hide all red lipstick from plain sight)] 

Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 30 is far sexier than her younger counterpart. Older women are forthright and honest. They’ll tell you right off if you are a jerk if you are acting like one! You don’t ever have to wonder where you stand with her. [Honesty is the best policy. By the way, here’s a tic-tac. Get the hint

Yes, we praise women over 30 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it’s not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed hot woman of 30+, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year-old waitress. 

Ladies, I apologise. 

For all those men who say, “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free”. Here’s an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage, why? Because women realize it’s not worth buying an entire pig, just to get a little sausage!” 

Share it with your other female friends who are 30 and above and get the best giggle out of it! 

Oh Hello 2012. What's cookin'?

My 2011 in retrospect:

I won’t say my 2011 were a great awesomepossum year. Neither was it so terrible, it scarred me for life.

It was an okay year. A year where many lessons were learnt and many factors; good and bad, achievement and failure, happened beyond my control.

In 2011, I came up with 3 resolutions, which were:

1. Start saving more money and spend wisely and carefully. 

2. Start an exercise regime 

3. Cook at home more and eat out less 
Those 3 were realistic and achievable goals but due to circumstances NOT in my control, my goals were deviated and broken into many pieces of tiny successes.

1. Start saving more money and spend wisely and carefully.

Achievement: I did started saving. For the first time in my life, I invested my money in trustworthy investment schemes and insurance but with much trepidation of what-ifs. So far, Alhamdulillah, all my studies, reading and asking about investment is paying off and reaping the rewards is a satisfaction of its own.

Circumstances beyond my control, which resulted in failure: Moving to a new house, getting ready for a baby, and many more, I was spending more than I intended. As a result, I was collecting more debts than not.

Circumstances beyond my control, which resulted in achievement: Trice last year I received unexpected windfall. From there, I managed to settle 90% of my debts. Another 10% will be brought forward this year and to be paid off as soon as I can.

2. Start an exercise regime

Failure: I registered as a gym member at a local gym and bought a pair of jogging shoes early last year to replace my old ones. Until now, the shoes are still in a box, unused and dust free while the Mister went to the gym alone.

Circumstances beyond my control, which resulted in failure: I had cyst surgery early last year and had to rest a lot.

Circumstances beyond my control, which resulted in achievement: A month or two after the surgery, I got pregnant and due to my fragile state, the only exercise I managed to do was walking to a mall to shop for baby stuff.

3.  Cook at home more and eat out less

Achievement: “Balqiz got her groove back!” In cooking I mean.

Circumstances beyond my control, which resulted in failure, AND achievement all at the same time: In my first trimester, we eat out more than not. I couldn’t cook due to the smell that brought forth the need to hurl the content in my stomach. And being such a picky eater at that stage was a nightmare for both the mister and I. Thinking of what to eat took more than 3 hours and another 1 hour to think of where to find such food. Sometimes the mister had to drive out past midnight just to get me food that I suddenly MUST eat there and then. Thank God it lasted for three months. Starting my second trimester until now, I was consumed by the need to cook EVERYTHING UNDER SUN because my appetite to eat was ginormous and only my own cooking can satisfy my epicure. As I gain weight due to my pregnancy, the mister gained too; due to my cooking.


I don’t have any resolution or goals this year. After so much had happened last year, main lesson learned was that a goal that is realistic, within my power and achievable could be unrealistic, beyond my power and unachievable all at the same time.

This 2012, I expect it’s going to be a roller coaster ride. I will be a mother in less than a month. I don’t know what kind of mother I will be. I hope I will be a smashing success one. I will still work full time and study part time. I don’t know how I will juggle all that but with a supporting, understanding and helpful husband, I will manage. I won’t deny that there will be a time I will break down and calling it quits but I went through worst. God tested me more than few times with worst circumstances before and I came out alive and kicking. So if I do fall, I will rise up again because I am well trained to endure hardship [just don’t throw hand grenades at me coz I will still blow up and die]

I will still be as open and as blunt as ever. Nothing will change that no matter if no one likes it or can accept it. Fine by me [munch on peanuts] I didn’t come all the way from hell to put up with measly ingrates with too much drama and excess baggage. I am honest to bits, transparent as a glass and not a hypocrite like you.

"If everything I do is all about you, then you are biting off more than you can chew." ~Balqiz

I will still blog and take photo even when I know it won’t be as often as before. My blog is my form of therapy and at the same time, a diary. I made it public so that my friends scattering all over the world can check in on my updates (I rarely update my Facebook) and I will still keep it in public viewing mode. Some post which is TMI or too sensitive for the pseudo religious or narrow-minded people will be blocked and only with password given by me that you can view it. Not everyone will get the password so if you are one of the rejected few, I’m sorry. It is MY VERY MUCH intention to not let you read it because I say so.

To my loyal readers (even to those haters), thank you! Your support through your comments, your emails and your friendship, believe or not, has given me all the motivation I need to go on even when there are times I feel like quitting or too lazy or busy.

When ask, I still don’t know what this blog represent to the society we are living. I am not blogging about specific niche topic, nor am I educating nor talking about latest issues of the world. I am just babbling about my day-to-day life and I guess getting a glimpse of what I go through is what makes this blog a good leisure read without having to think waaaaay too much.

Till then, HAPPY NEW YEAR and May we live to see 2013 and more!

A year ago, I asked you...

“Do you believe in soul mates?”


“What about ‘perfect match’?”

“There’s no such thing”

“Then how do you know if that person you’re with is the right person for you?”

“When I’m with that person, I make it her THE right person for me. I will accept her for who she is, love her for all she is and care for her as much as possible”

“What if she has faults and mistakes? Would you love her for all that too?”

“All the mistakes she made make her the person she is today and that all the mistakes she made lead her to me. For that, I love her mistakes even more”

“What if she’s not the one for you? What if she hurts you? Would you gamble your heart for something as uncertain as taking a chance?”

“Even if I’m not certain… and even if I’m going to be sorry later, if I don’t take the chance by giving us a chance, I will be sorry for the rest of my life for not knowing if this could be it. And so, I will work hard for it to make it work for us”

Thank you for another wonderful year spent together. 

Happy One Year Anniversary & a Happy New Year, Love!

Let's have an awesome, kickass 2012!



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