Little Miss Shopaholic

Playing dress up #2

I’m…not reverberating with words these days so posts are a little light around here. Don’t know why. Maybe it’s because life is a little at a standstill now, what with the Very Important IVF being in October. Also, we are a little busy with the MINI revamp of east end.

But I am sure you are absolutely DYING for me to show my Fabulously Gorgeous self here so tahdah! Here I am, fulfilling your wish! Am v generous fairy godmother, I am.

Here’s the Smooch dress that I donned on that fateful day when I bared my knicker-clad bum to my doctor.

Paired the dress with the retro looking heels from Aldo, which I scored at a sale after ogling them for the longest time, and a heart-shaped Swarovski pendent that was given to me by my sister-in-law. Just like The Pleasure Monger, I have been trying to curb my spending by buying cheaper stuff but I’m not sure it’s really working out for me because I end up buying more pieces! I is terrible, v terrible.

Again, photo quality is awful because I took this in the loo of my office. I keep telling Mr Thick that I need a better full-length mirror in the house but NOOOO, he refuses to let me buy one. Selfish arse.

Foodnotes, Friends

Little Darling

The scope‘s done.
Nothing’s missing from my intestines.
But there’s still the biopsy results pending and that’s gonna come later this week.
If nothing is amiss, it means that all this gastric nonsense stems from…MY BRAINS!
I’m so terrible at handling stress. Gah.
I was always meant to be a tai tai domestic goddess, I reckon.
Somebody tell that to husband, please?

(Also, the doctor said to me before putting me to sleep, Ah, you are the girl whom I thought was Japanese! Was v glad he didn’t say, Ah, you are the girl who flashed her knickers!)


I spent one lovely Saturday morning with a girlfriend and her little one at The Plain.
I adore them both, they are the sort of people whom the world needs more of because they are wonderful, generous and full of heart.
Spending time with them always makes me feel lighter, brighter and better.

Taking a self-portrait
Our coffees
Perfectly poached Darling's Eggs, half-eaten

I liked The Plain very much – yummy eggs, nice coffee and cosy relaxed ambience.

Health Goddess

Blah blah IVF blah

So. The fabled Dr Handsome.

Let me preface this by saying that it was Dr Y who proclaimed him A Very Handsome Doctor. That got me quite excited, enough to Google for his picture. Whee. And Dr Handsome must be quite photogenic because he did look pretty cute in the photo. Coupled with the fact that he was v nice over the phone and bam! I was sold.

And then we met him for the first time on a stormy Saturday morning at KKH. It was…okay. I mean, I was definitely not expecting the hottest doctor in the world but I was hoping for some form of visual pleasure. While Dr Handsome did turn out to be v v nice, he was also merely pleasant looking. In fact, Mr Thick proclaimed him the typical pleasant looking doctor.

I concur.
And was a tad disappointed.
I should have known better than to trust a man’s taste in men.

And erm, yes, I have broken up with Dr Y and hooked up with Dr Handsome despite the latter’s lack of handsomeness.
As I said to Dr Y, he charges like Chanel and I can only afford Uniqlo. The only logical conclusion: Splitsville. We are still friends, although I think I will miss the days of spamming his phone with my queries. Sobs.

Anyway, it appears that many Singaporeans are finding out that they are also not able to spawn simply by shagging because we have been penciled in for the cycle in…OCTOBER! Holy cow. That’s four frigging months. FOUR! I nearly fell off my chair when the massively pregnant nurse told me the magic month.

That threw a monkey wrench into my Type A, well laid out plans. With the possible changes coming up (shh! can’t talk about them now), I was in a tizzy over how I was going to fit everything in. That’s the thing with this infertility shit – your life starts revolving around jabs and scans and retrievals and transfers. I have a love/hate relationship with cycling (nothing to do with the two-wheeled sort).

Dr Handsome had suggested that we go for the longer agonist protocol which I am cool with, except that it means MORE JABS for a longer period of time, which equals being a Genetically Modified Cow for a longer period of time. I’m also really, really hoping that he can “force” me in for an earlier cycle, we’ll find out again when we see him in July.

And…the biggest revelation of all: I DO NOT HAVE A RETROVERTED UTERUS!

Gawd. You would think that I know my uterus after all these years but NO. During our consult, Dr Handsome asked that I be acquainted with his dildocam (ie. have it stuck up my vajayjay for a look-see) and I casually mentioned that I have a retroverted uterus.

Hmm actually you have an anteverted uterus but that’s okay, he replied.


Either my uterus has been skipping around my insides or…or I don’t know.
Maybe I have a schizophrenic uterus.

Uteruses (uteri?) these days, tsk.

The organised chaos


I’m a closet escapist.

Well, now that it’s out in the open, I suppose I can no longer call myself “closet” escapist. I am openly an escapist! I AM AN ESCAPIST!

It’s just that with all that infertility shit going on around here, there are days when I just want to be anywhere but here.

I want to go somewhere where I can start afresh and not have to think about when the next cycle is and how we are going to pay for it and how I am going to fit all those hospital visits with work.

I want to live by myself and not have to think about how I am currently the only viable uterus to spawn potential grandchildren for the husband’s parents.

I want to be far away from their expectations, away from their desire for us to do exactly as they say, away from this feeling of being trapped.

Some days, I think: If I could run away, I would.

Kite flying


Happy meal #32: Chocolate cupcakes with macha frosting

To me, baking > cooking.

Cooking stresses me out sometimes. Maybe it’s because I know that if I screw up the meal, poor Mr Thick and I would have to swallow down the horrible food conjured by my own two hands. And subconsciously, I think the pressure comes from the knowledge that I have to feed a man whose own mother is the very incarnation of Asia’s Martha Stewart. Shudders.

But baking! Baking is about sweet treats and yummy delights. Baking is about having a cuppa tea with that slice of cake. I have been fortunate thus far to have made all the good things right, probably because they have all been safe choices. Yes, the washing up is a big Pain In The Arse but I think the rewards are worth the manual labour!

During my break from work in May, I managed to whip up a batch of chocolate cupcakes with green tea frosting: two of my favourite things in the world! Hot from the oven, the cupcakes were amazing and I was trying v hard not to cram the entire thing into my mouth. Like, OH NOM NOM NOM.

Not v glamourous, that. Thought I saw Mr Thick do that though, stuff the cupcake into his mouth. Hmm.

Chocolate cupcakes with macha cream cheese frosting
Adapted from Chockylit

What you’ll need for chocolate cupcakes:

  • 170g butter
  • 1.5 cups sugar
  • 3 eggs
  • 2 cups flour
  • 1 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 3/4 cup cocoa powdered
  • 2 tablespoons instant espresso powder
  • 1.5 cups milk
  • 2 teaspoons vanilla extract

How to make:
1. Beat butter until softened. Add sugar and beat until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes.
2. Add eggs, one at a time, beating 30 seconds after each addition.
3. Measure the flour, baking soda, salt, cocoa powder, and espresso powder into a medium sized bowl and whisk to combine.
4. Measure the milk and vanilla into a measuring thing.
5. Add about a third of the dry ingredients to the butter/sugar and beat to combine. Add about a half of the milk/vanilla and beat to combine. Continue adding, alternating between dry and wet and finishing with the dry.
6. Scoop batter into cupcake cups about 2/3’s full. Push down slightly and cover with batter using the back of a spoon.
7. Bake at 180 degrees Celsius for about 25-30 minutes or until a cake tester comes out clean.

What you’ll need for frosting:
(Portion has been halved because I didn’t want to frost everything)

  • 110g butter
  • 1/2 pack of Philly cream cheese
  • 1.5 cups icing sugar
  • 2 tablespoons matcha powder

How to make:
1. Bring butter to room temperature by letting it sit out for 1 or 2 hours.
2. Beat butter and cream cheese at medium speed until creamy.
3. Sift icing sugar and 1 tablespoon of matcha powder into the butter/cream cheese mixture and beat to combine.
4. Taste. Add more matcha if desired (I liked mine really strong)


Chocolate cupcakes with macha cream cheese frosting

These were some of the nicer designs that I piped. CANNOT PIPE FROSTING FOR NUTS. Sherie and R – help! (Also need help on photography please. I hate you both.)

Wedding March

Visual memories

After every wedding that I attend, I’d feel the urge to go home and look through the photos taken on our wedding day.

It’s all v strange but as the couple walk down the aisle or cut the cake or pop the champagne or make their speech, my heart will turn to mush and then I’ll think back to the day when husband and I did all that too. Recently, it was W and T’s wedding and both Mr Thick and I were deeply involved in it. And it made me miss my wedding!

When people talk to us about wedding plans, I always say to them, what is your priority? For us, it was clear: food/atmosphere and photography were of utmost importance to us. So I bought a cheaper dress and inexpensive shoes, made do with decorations bought from the internet, skipped the whole evening dress nonsense and borrowed most of my jewellery.

And whadaya know, three years on and I still go all gooey when I look at our wedding pix. Love. Eadwine was definitely the perfect choice. I mean, the ROI has been astounding!

Thicknthin: Young ones

Thicknthin: Oops I missed that?

Thicknthin: Husband and wife


But well, the wedding was fabulous but the marriage has proven to be even more awesome. ♥ Although I wouldn’t say no to another ceremony, heh heh. Maybe for our 10th year anniversary?

Little Miss Shopaholic


So I’ve been toying with the idea of chopping off all my hair for the longest time now. But I haven’t got the balls to do it because a) it’s my crowning glory, for goodness’ sake; b) I hate the growing out process and c) I am scared of looking like a boy.

That’s why my hair is currently in this no man’s land, between short and long. Not quite a bob and not quite past my shoulders. In one word: SUCKS.

And then, I discovered InStyle’s Hollywood Hair Virtual Makeover site! Let’s ben honest here: it’s a shit site which crashes all the time. But it’s fun, especially since it’s free! And the hairstyles are pretty current. And since I cannot make up my mind on whether the hair has to stay or go, I decided to do a virtual makeover.

Tah dah!

Hairstyles clockwise from top left: Carey Mulligan, Lily Allen, Ciara, Halle Berry

Hmm, methinks I ought to stick with longer hair. And man, what is up with my Jackie Chan nose!

Health Goddess, The organised chaos


I am lying down on the examination table while the doctor checks my neck for abnormalities.

Doc: Okay, I need to do an ultrasound. Have you done one before?
Me: Yes, at my gynae’s.
Doc: Oh no, I meant for your internal organs like the liver.
Me: Nope.
Doc: (starts squeezing the gel out of the tube) Okay, let’s take a look.
(Tries to lift up the top layer of my dress and I realized that he was going to scan my tummy area. So I pulled the skirt of my dress up, wondering why there wasn’t a blanket to cover my nether regions. Out comes a glimpse of my knickers.)
Doc: Whoa!
Me: Eeeeee!
Doc: Let me call my nurse in.
Me: Yes, good idea!

I was MORTIFIED. I mean, I flashed my knickers at the doctor, whom I had just met for the VERY FIRST TIME. Not that I would have treated him to a precious viewing of my pretty underthings if he had known me for a while now but still. He hadn’t realized that my two-tier dress was, indeed, a dress and I stupidly helped him to pull it up. Okay to make it easier for you to visualise, I was wearing this pretty dress from Smooch.

You would think that with all my, uhhmm, vast experience in having doctors peer at my nekkid bottom, I would have realised that a female nurse and a blanket were absolutely necessary in a situation like this.

And you know what the worst bit was?

I was wearing my old black Topshop knickers that had FLIRT emblazoned boldly across the front.


Luckily for me, we managed to move on from that scandalous state of affairs like the mature adults that we were. We nattered for a bit and he even mentioned that he first thought I was half-Japanese(!!) when I walked into the room. KAWAII NE!

The good news is, my insides are “structurally” fine. Yay! The doc says that nothing has collapsed and he thinks the gastroscope is the only way to know for sure why my gastric problems keep coming back. He’s ruling out gallstones for the moment, he says, because I am “not fat”. I don’t know why but I found it really funny. He did mention that it could possibly be stress-related after hearing about our IVF attempt so boo.

Oh and coincidentally enough, he is also a Dr Y. Hmm. Maybe that will be my criteria for selecting doctors in future, seeing how Y is my favorite alphabet. To avoid confusion, my gastro doctor will be Dr Y2 and of course, the best doctor in the world will forever be the funniest, nicest and cleverest Dr Y (in case he is reading this).

But Dr Y has doubtful taste in men. He made out Dr Handsome to be a very handsome doctor but I find Dr Handsome only moderately handsome. Let’s put it this way: he is no McDreamy nor McSteamy. But I cannot be bothered to rename Dr Handsome “Dr Not So Handsome” and therefore Dr Handsome he shall remain, for convenience’s sake.

I do have the strangest luck with doctors.

Health Goddess

Doctor’s best friend

My health has been in the pits recently.

I’ve been plagued by recurrent gastritis for a while now and my GP has suggested that I get an endoscopy done to determine the causes. It’s inevitable, I suppose, and I did tell the doctor to book me the earliest appointment to see the specialist. But the thought of having yet another procedure done, especially when it’s coming on the back of the IVF, is making me feel, well, depressed.

That means, in the past 10 months, I have had seven IUIs, one IVF and one laparoscopy done. With all the bills that I have been paying, I’m the medical industry’s best friend, I reckon.

And I’m so sick of all these tests, of having things poke around my insides, of having to wait in the clinic on a knife’s edge. It’s a good thing I am not a corporate rat – my career would have gone down in flames a long time ago, what with all the time I took away from the job.

Then there’s the uncertainty and worrying. What exactly is going on in there? Why are my parts going all wonky on me now?

How does it feel to be in a normal, healthy body?