The idea of documenting my rants and memories has been brewing for a long time, but I never had the courage to actually do it due to my fear of people finding out about it and branding me as a whiny little bitch. But I had no more channel to actually express myself, since my 'friends' brand me and judge me either way.
So first let me tell you my story.
I'm a girl who has just turned 20 last month, and yet I don't feel like I'm 20. My parents still control my life pretty much in any aspect that they can control. My food, my diet, my (lack of) exercises, and most of all, the things I love doing.
You must be thinking, wow, this girl must be doing drugs or at least an alcoholic. But no, what I'm actually in love with is nail polish. I ran to nail polish and nail art back when I had nothing to do with my time when I graduated from junior high to high school. I had 2 months of free time and I just found out about nail art through YouTube and blogs. I started buying cheap nail polishes, and imagine my disappointment when my nail polish application was as good as a 5 year old child. But I still try to do my nails, even though my school doesn't exactly allow the students having long nails, neither do they allow having students using nail polish. My trick? Applying them late at night, taking pictures, and then erase them right before I go to sleep, so my nails are always clean whenever I go to school.
It kept on going like that until I graduated from high school, in which I actually found a community of nail art addicts, which then fueled my passion for nails. And by the way, my technique improved a lot better now lol.
Oh, and you should probably know that I'm obese. Back when I graduated from high school, I weighed 100,4 kg. Which is around 200lbs for you Americans. I didn't see my weight as a problem, only a nuisance that I have to go to a specific store to buy clothes. I joined the gym with the encouragement of my friends, and my parents got me a personal trainer. I lost 20kg in about 3 months in that holiday period teenagers go through when they graduate from high school. The minute I got to university, the cravings I managed to suppress in the holidays came back tenfold. I started gaining my weight back, and having no time going to the gym due to the busy nature of uni life, I gained almost all of the weight I lost. I was 18.
At first I didn't notice it, but as time goes, my clothes no longer fit me, the skinny jeans that I bought is simply too tight and I now put it in the back of my closet so I don't have to see it again.
This is right where the story gets a little depressing (to myself, at least).
I LOVE doing my nails, and other people's. I invested a lot of money in the tools, the polishes, and other trinkets. My friends and family say that I have more nail polish and trinkets compared to the nail salons. I opened up a little online shop where I sell press-on nails (fake nails) and I started to gain a lot of money doing that. I found out that a lot of people really love what I do and they're willing to pay me for it.
On the other hand, my parents are your usual strict Asian parents, who sees nail polish and nail art as a distraction. Not a distraction to my studies, since they could care less about it. But it's a distraction to my weight loss/management. The time I spent on caring my nails are time I'm supposed to go to the gym, to train, to lose my weight. Back when I lost all of that weight, I started having a crush on one of my classmate. I thought, with positivism that a girl can get from losing a lot of weight, that this time around my crush or feelings wouldn't be one sided any longer. I was wrong. The guy, who I actually went to high school with, still see me as his best friend, and he went on and got into a relationship as I started gaining weight again. I guess I don't see the benefit of having a slimmer figure if the guy that I like still wouldn't see me as beautiful, and found a girlfriend whose body is enviable.
Back to today's rants and memories. I just finished filming a nail art tutorial for YouTube when my dad suddenly came upstairs. He saw me with the full gear of my usual YouTube shooting, the tripods, the lightings, and of course, the nail polish. Just a few days earlier, I asked him to take my camera to his friend to be swapped with a newer design, which I'm planning on paying by myself, as I have already saved up money for it. He started to raise his voice (he never screams) asking me if the new camera is actually for this whole nail art business or not. He asked me what time I'm going to the gym today, since it's holiday. I told him I'm on my period, and he started the old threat of throwing all of my nail polishes or putting them in the garage or breaking off all of my tools. I actually want to see him do it, want him to see how broken I would be when he actually did it, for him to see that nail art is one of the very few thing that I'm good at and losing it would only push me away further. I want him to see how broken I am, so finally, finally, he would start actually caring for me, actually wanting to try to get to know me.
My dad has been a traveler his whole life, the amount of time he spends at home is a lot fewer than the time he spends working. my history with him isn't exactly a happy memory either. The biggest, most vivid memory I have with him is when he locked me up in the garage when I was 5 or 6. I had been riding my bike across the complex, and I was living in a highly volatile province, where crime happens every day right under our noses, so he forbids me from riding my bike too late. I came home when the sky has been dark, with him standing in front of my home. He never raises an arm on anyone, so he stood there, with arms across his chest, and told me to go to the garage. He hung my bike on the ceiling, turned off the light in the garage, and left me there. I have no memory of what happens next, but I'm guessing I cried a lot. I don't even remember what time he actually took me our of there, or who actually let me out, my mom or my dad. Ever since that, I've been on edge around him. Waiting for the time he actually keeps me in the garage again, or simply raising his voice.