As I proudly extend my 3rd digit to the entire human race for such a rotten, sickening mentality, embedded far too deep in the kernels of our minds, my brain scrambles to find a version of women's ideals.
Don't be too clingy,
Don't be such a 'boy',
Be a man, and guide me,
But don't boss me around.
Don't wear flashy clothes,
Don't be such an attention seeker,
But dress well everyday, all day.
Don't come on too strong,
Don't be desperate,
Treat me like a princess,
But don't be a doormat.
Don't complain about life,
Don't show me you're weak,
Be a strong pillar,
But share everything with me.
I'm just going to leave this here, to demonstrate how the perfect balance in life doesn't exist.
Unfortunately, much to my dismay, reality isn't a mathematical equation with perfect equilibrium.
Thus, in my journey to obtain perfection in the various aspects that are important to me,
namely my academic facet and relationships, I tend to come across as "impossible to please".
I want to be the best in what I do, but I don't know if I'm made to be the best.
Yesterday was a prime example of my propensity to second-guess my capabilities of being a doctor.
I was upset with myself, more so than the other parties involved in that predicament.
7 weeks to go before I'm allowed to roam the wards treating ill patients, and thus, I cannot afford to second guess my decisions, it is of absolute imperative to be a confident, efficient and knowledgable doctor who is well-liked by staffs and colleagues alike.
Hence, after interrogating my patients of every nitty gritty detail about their admissions, I would never leave the cubicle before assessing how they smile/bid me farewell.
Sometimes, I semi-anticipate for a patient to utter things like "It was a pleasure talking to you, Doctor".
I felt it is an excellent indication that one did an commendable job balancing good patient interactions while getting all necessary details essential for follow-up management.
Yesterday, the dark clouds loomed above me, as I felt so mmmeh.
I decided after a week of dieting and working out, I deserved a break from the crave for my idea of a "perfect body" and went to eat out.
Salmon teriyaki, gyoza and yaki soba.
There goes a week's hard work.
I look at myself in the mirror everyday, and I nitpick 10 things I despise about what I see, and I work to correct these imperfections, within the bounds of my religion.
I'm such a perfectionist, that it has come to a stage that it is deemed exhausting.
I've grown to be better at hiding it when I step out of my bedroom, so much so that I believe even my beloved housemate thinks I'm the most easy-going final year medical student mankind has ever known.
Relationships-wise, it starts with what appeals to the eyes, before I delve into personality, and compatibility,
and often, somewhere along the way, things don't work out.
But I shrug it off and say that it is not my jodoh.
And Dublin isn't known to have an ample reservoir of Malaysians.
And after the 5th year one resides here, too many history, baggages, and rumours circulating around that more often than not, you don't even attempt to make the first move.
Let's see if my luck changes once I go home.
I'm going to have my breakfast and start the day with a walk around the neighbourhood.
There's a little saying about life and lemons.
I believe, sometimes, if you're unlucky enough to not be handed with lemons by life
(because life can be a little female dog, like that),
we'll just have to work hard and grow our own lemon trees.