February 2015

264 266

PARTING SHOT
264 January15
H e r e ’ s
y o u r
c h a n c e
t o g e t
published
– and make
some money at
the same time. We’re looking for
500-word written contributions
on any funny, poignant, practical
or even controversial topic
that touches on expat life in
Singapore. Simply email your
stories in a Word document to
and
we’ll consider them for inclusion
in an upcoming issue.
I’m 34. Only 34. I have to remind
myself of that often, and then I have
to remind myself that 34 is really still
quite young. I forget this, of course,
because most days I feel really old –
my body hurts in a lot of places and I’m
tired. Two pregnancies, four years of
sleep deprivation and life with two very
boisterous small people have taken their
toll. Big time.
Mascara and lip-gloss are essentials
these days. I don’t bother with much
else because I’d still prefer to sleep a bit
longer in the mornings, but one day, in
the not so distant future, I’m pretty sure
I’ll be setting an alarm so I have time
to “put my face on” before I leave the
house. I’ll become one of those women
who rely on products like “primer” and
“concealer”, as if they’re prepping an
unsightly old wall before covering it with
something far more appealing.
I’ve also noticed random grey hairs
popping up on my head, and damn it if
they aren’t more wiry and unruly than all
the rest! Soon I’m going to have to bite
the bullet and add regular dye jobs to
my list of things to do. Fortunately, there
are countless products available here
to help girls like me to hide our flaws.
From skin whiteners and BB cream, to
fake eyelashes – whatever you need
can be bought just about anywhere.
Manicures, pedicures, facials and
waxing, massage, detox, weight-loss
clinics, Botox, dermabrasion, laser hair
removal, and more – it’s all available,
all the time.
It has never even entered my mind
that I might like to be someone who
ages gracefully. I’m still too young to
age. Maybe when I hit my mid-forties I’ll
come to grips with the fact that there’s
no turning back the clock anymore, but
for now I want to at least look 34, even if
I don’t necessarily feel it; maybe it’s so
important to me because I don’t feel it.
I know I’mnot setting a good example.
I don’t want my kids to grow up thinking
that looks are important, and I definitely
want them to know that beauty comes
from within, so I’m hoping my quiet little
rebellion against the sands of time goes
mostly unnoticed at home. Given that I
have two boys, it probably will.
It’s not all bad: I’m skinnier than I’ve
been since I left university (last century).
I have moments, in the right kind of light,
By Brooke Chenoweth
Facing
The
where I feel like I’m doing OK. But until
I start to feel my actual age, I’m going
to have to fake it. In the meantime, I’m
beginning to understand why my Nanna
never leaves the house without lipstick.
And that makes me feel even older!