Infections of the best-left-unnamed kind

Did I mention that the wonky hormones have resulted in a less than acidic pH environment in the nether regions and the vagina? In plain words: the friendly bacteria have flourished and turned hostile. Doc took a culture swab and sent me home with a plethora of medication: gels to insert (complete with 6" plastic tube and plunger), tablets to insert after completing the gel treatment, antifungal cream to spread and two courses of antibiotics to swallow.

Doc hopes it's not a strain of strep which could cause pneumonia to a newborn. I don't remember the scientific name but I remember the initials GBS. I am to call back in a weeks' time for results.

No name

As most would have noticed, my masthead and title have now become nothing more than ...

I got tired of Funky Carnival but can't decide what else to call my blog. So for the moment, it shall be nameless and waiting in limbo till I can make up my mind.

Brain drain

I wonder how some women are able to be pregnant and continue putting in the same amount of focus and concentration at work that they used to before they began growing their baby.

These days, I'm either too tired or cranky or hungry or just plain uncomfortable in my work clothes (no I'm not being stubborn; my maternity pants are too long and I haven't had time to get them altered and there are only so many days I can wear skirts to work) to concentrate on work as I used to. I never had much patience before but it's riding on an even shorter leash these days. Anyone who fails to get my point or perform to expectations usually gets a lambasting.

I tried doing sums in my head. This is just counterchecking on claims forms submitted by my sales team. Not only am I not able to add up the sums mentally, my apparent dwindling lack of skill with the calculator had me redoing the sums at least 3 or 4 times before I managed to tally the totals of each person's claims. This is with the help of an electronic calculator! If that isn't bad or an indication that my brain is getting royally fried, I don't know what is.

Not only am I not able to concentrate mentally, my body seems to be able to focus physically on one task at a time. After meals, I'm washed over by such a heavy wave of sleepiness that I could probably fall asleep in the restaurant right in the chair if not for the fact that to do so would land my head unceremoniously in my plate. I probably couldn't stand the embarrassment and humiliation. So instead, I try to follow conversation while trying not to seem too rude or uninterested, usually leaning back in my chair and sliding down several inches or so. I haven't slid off one yet, I'm just wondering when that will happen.

I really, truly admire the business or career women out there who can somehow figure a way of winging it all together and making it all look so damn easy. While my own pregnancy does not seem to have been especially harsh - no morning sickness, no debillitating back pain - yet, not too much ballooning - I'm somewhat low on the energy and concentration levels. It's a wonder how some of these women can jetset around for work sometimes almost all the way until they end up in the delivery room (I thought airline companies don't allow heavily pregnant women on their planes?) or how some of them carry on with their work just as focused and concentrated as if that growing bump was just another minor speed bump in their career path: slow down just before and then speed up right after, back on track in no time.

I'm happy just to be able to get through the day without feeling like I need a 5-hour nap after lunch or making sure that my tongue doesn't get entirely tied and twisted over itself so I can coherently deliver a sales presentation without looking like my brain just got dissolved in acid.

Oh, and of course, who can forget those blasted claims forms?

The once over

It seems an automatic reaction to run my hands over my belly now everytime before I sleep and before I get out of bed. It's quite amazing, really. For the last 15 weeks, there has not been much physical evidence of a bump. Suddenly at week 16, the bump seems to be growing overnight. I swear!

And everytime I run my hands over to feel if that convex has grown even a tiny bit, I come away with a resounding 'Yes!' Finally, I have something to show for being pregnant other than the humongous boobs.

Another reason to leave

The Information Ministry recently announced reviving a ban on multi-racial or Pan-Asian faces in the advertising industry to give priority to "local" faces.

What is a "local" look and what is not? How are Pan-Asian faces different from Chinese, Indian, Malay, Portuguese, Dayak, Iban, and the many other faces found in Malaysia? After all, we are ALL Malaysian.

So if my mother happens to be Chinese but she married an Indian, and my grandmother is Portuguese and I look like a motley cross between all, thus I have a multiracial look (meaning, I don't look like a Chinese, Malay or Indian), that means I am not local? Or I don't have a local look?

Can somebody explain the logic of this to me? As far as I'm concerned, being Malaysian does not have anything to do with what one looks like. Can somebody please explain to the goofs in the government that Malaysia is a MULTIRACIAL, read, MULTIETHINIC country and that being multiracial it means we don't necessarily look like one particular race but a mix of a few, if not many? By multiracial, does the government mean Malay? If it does, then they are so stuck in that white castle of theirs so plainly in denial and full of their own shit that they can't see the forest for the trees.

So, which part of this slogan, "Malaysia, truly Asia" (our Tourism Minstry's slogan for a few year) holds true then? How do we go about announcing proudly to the world at large that we are a multiracial country and then turn around and ban multiracial faces from appearing on the media? Those people in the government (I'm tempted to call them swine but that would be demeaning the porcine species, as my sis would say) sure can be blatant hypocrites. But that's an open secret, isn't it? To cement the fact openly is not beyond or beneath their means, in fact, it should only be expected of them.

In this case, it's clearly a case of "looks matter". I suppose to them idiots there, looking Malaysian (read, Malay) is more important than feeling Malaysian, or thinking like a Malaysian.

When will they ever realise that Malaysia is not just one race, and specifically, not just Malay?

Emergency shopping

The bra I bought about 3 weeks ago to accommodate my growing boobs almost suffocated me yesterday. So during my lunch break, I dashed out to buy what I was inevitably putting off till the last minute: maternity/nursing bras.

Not only did I save myself from a possible fainting spell, I walked away with two pairs of skirts and a delightfully comfortable ruched top that is supposed to expand beautifully with my growing belly. I don't even want to look through the bill again. Let's just say that all the pregnancy books were true: maternity clothes cost the earth!

So from now on, it's no underwire but comfy nursing bras (I got three), and I think I'll have to dig up those maternity pants I bought for work. Jeans will do for anything else. Plus that lovely elasticised corduroy skirt I got yesterday.

Decisions

"How do you feel about moving out of the country?"

"..."

"In a way, I wish you'd say you don't want to go so I can just say no."

King of the world

Because the grass is so much greener on the other side

A walk in the backyard