About Nude Not Naked

I was in the shower when I thought about my blog. I usually think of you guys when I am up and about doing things. But sometimes I do think of you when I am in the shower, with the hot water running down my naked body. I was thinking of all the people I knew resulting from my blog, About Nude Not Naked.

It all started with the grand dame of shopping, YC. I think I met her more than a year ago. Oh yes, when I think about it now, I am sure we met in 2006. I remember texting her three seconds after I turned my back and walked away from Adidas Boy on 30th October 2006. I remember pressing the phone keypad at the corner of Mango boutique, Mid Valley, restraining tears from falling, writing something to YC.

‘You know, you two will clash when you meet,’ someone remarked. The friend of a friend of a friend of YC’s was certain that two huge egos should never meet. I brushed the idea away and met YC a few times.

YC has the most beautiful eyes, almost cartoon-like. She should be a little taller than I, waif thin, with a face that would sit pretty in any hairstyles. The next thing I noticed after her physical features were two pieces of jewellery that she adorned. She had a green jade bangle and a crystal pendant in the shape of a pacifier. I thought they were such contradiction to her persona, which I think tells you a thing or two about the young lady. She came across as intelligent, vocal and a thousand years wiser than I ever was at her age.

And no, we never had any of the arguments that the friend of a friend of a friend of YC’s predicted earlier. I dotted on her like a little sister and to a certain extend, she dotted on me like a little sister too (since she is the more streetwise of us two). The highlights of our blog-friendship included:

• The ‘He is married’ episode - a guy friend of hers and I were secretly talking to each other with our eyes (commonly known as the art of flirting) when YC dropped the ‘he is married’ bomb. (He has the most winsome smile). That was a very embarrassing moment, needless to say. Crash and burn, baby.


• The ‘Mad Dash for Chicken Rice’ – we drove at warp speed down a highway to purchase packets of chicken rice. The chicken rice was worth every kilometre of the way. Actually, YC has a thing for pork satay too whilst I am not a pork person. Come to think of it, YC is very food oriented…


• The ‘Clash of Great Fashion Senses’ episode – we walked into Lola together one night in the most contradictory party clothes. YC, in a black sleeves tight blouse with a cinched waist with gold buckles while I, in a soft pink blouse with a slit running past the cleavage. Talk about differences.

We got along reasonably well, if not for the fact that I am 8 years older than her and a hell of a lot more quiet and a dash more boring. I think she was disappointed to discover that I am such a quiet person in real life. Oh well.

Then there is Nicholas, whom I met in London. We spent three happy months together, mainly sitting in Four Seasons for duck rice or Hong Kong Café in China Town for all its delicious goodies. We spoke regularly on the phone when we were not chatting online. Nicholas is a wonderful young man, who strangely was not attached to anyone when I first met him. I am glad to know that he has found someone since then.

Nicholas often wore a beanie, which hid his short-cropped hair. He wore a pair of black rim pair of glasses (or at least I think they were) and often carried a backpack whenever we went out together. I cannot describe him beyond this since he is a boy. There is nothing much to talk about boy’s sense of fashion, now is there?

Nicholas’ most attractive quality must be his warmth. He comes across as a genuine and caring person. He is a generous spirit with a lot of give to those around him. Spending the weekends and afternoons with him was simply pleasurable. He is a gentleman through and through.

‘Oh don’t worry. You don’t have to wait for me. You shop until I arrive,’ he said on the mobile on an afternoon we were supposed to meet up for tea. Dear Nicholas braved through the summer sales in the commercial labyrinth called TopShop, in search for a hyperventilating Otto on a shopping frenzy. I was happily browsing through racks after racks of clothes, looking at its many lines, which are not available in its other franchise. No other TopShop on earth would do.

Obviously we spoke a lot about our private lives, which are not for your eyes to read. Other than private stuff, we actually did a lot of London tourist things together:

• The Nottinghill Carnival –There were lots of music blasting around the surrounding blocks of apartments, which was nice but we basically saw only horse shit and an ocean of human heads. Did not manage to see anything on the floats despite wearing 4 inch hells that day.


• The ‘Young Oriental Models Upstairs’ episode – It started with me noticing a paper on a door that said ‘Young Oriental Models Upstairs’. We were one street away from China Town, Leicester Square. I was certain that it was a polite advertisement for prostitutes, so Nicholas and I walked across the street to check out the rooms upstairs. ‘Oh so that’s why they are called Red Light District,’ Nicholas said, noting the red light bulb in those rooms. I think I hugged him tightly on his neck and we walked towards Hong Kong Café, giggling and chatting away.


• The King’s Road Adventure – Nicholas and I spent a relaxing afternoon getting lost in the fashion mecca of the 60s. We wandered through small shops and what-so-nots. We tried not to end up in the hospital while we mounted the lions on Trafalgar Square. That was very memorable. I wore a halter-neck blouse and no bra. *beaming with happiness*

He addresses me by my real name with the title ‘jie’ at the end, which means ‘sister’ in Mandarin. No one calls me ‘sister’, not even my brothers, so it is quite refreshing and sweet that Nicholas calls me sister. That is as Chinese as I will ever be.

Not too surprisingly we remained close friends since returning back to Malaysia. We talked often on the phone and we poured quite a few secrets. He remains one of the few people who know details of my daily life stories. I cannot imagine that it has been nearly 2 years since we first met in London. Time surely passed by faster than I am comfortable with. Now he is working in NuffNang, which makes the next interesting story.

You see, I met Timothy too. We met for a short lunch in the Four Seasons in Bayswater. He was on his way back to Malaysia and I just arrived in London that morning. We chatted for a bit and exchanged some ideas. Now I must say that this young man is visionary. Do keep him under your radar because he is someone to watch out for. I was not surprised when he came up with a great idea and launched NuffNang. Timothy came across as a rather passionate person and he had the balls to see his dreams come through. NuffNang celebrated its first anniversary recently.

It is strange that I nearly met up with Kenny. Somehow we could not meet up and we ended up talking on the phone. ‘So you aren’t going to tell me where you are at?’ he asked. I replied ‘no’. (It is so obvious, isn’t it?). He dropped by ANNN several times, commented some and even mentioned ANNN in his blog. But you and I must admit that Kenny and I were as different as night and day. On blog reviews, he would receive a thousand stars for humor and I would be glad if I scored even a pathetic one. So there you go.

Oh I should also mention Ian Liew, who is a thinker, like myself. We spoke a couple of times over the phone. I even sent him the ‘Call me now!’ short text messages, so I could howl on the phone, sharing my minute details of my emotional dramas. It is amazing that Australia-UK phone calls are reasonably priced when compared to Australia-Malaysia. Ian always had perfect timing when he called or chatted online with me – while I was prancing around my bedroom half naked, trying to get ready for a hot weekend night out clubbing.

In retrospect, he called me out of the blue last year. I can’t remember what was the content of our conversation. I had this fading memory of it being a birthday greeting. Can’t remember if it was his or mine. Both of us were preparing to go out clubbing that night, so the conversation was short. I should email that boy again soon and see what he is up to lately.

There are of course many readers who correspond via emails. Some comment on my writing style and grammar mistakes, which I truly appreciate. Others write to share their stories and secrets. Many remarked that I gave words to their private stories. So many of you had similar life experiences. Writing and reading ANNN has healed both your hearts and mine. You have been a witness to my life. I am glad that my stories have found a place in many of your hearts and I hope I have not disappointed any of you.


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I am flying back to Malaysia in less than 14 days. I am feeling butterflies in my stomach. It is always the same feeling. You will never get used to it. I am anxious to go home. Three months is a long time. Many things change. People change. Roads change. I change.

Coming to Europe gives me the opportunity to step away from the daily grinds in Malaysia. Everything feels lighter when I am away. Every frantic moment melts away. Everything might move at a radical pace but internally I feel a sense of calm and peace. And somehow I can see things better when I am thousands of miles away.

I grow up a little more each time when I return home. It starts with a total transformation on the outside the morning I am home. My haircut and colour would have changed, before I meet my mother for lunch. Clothes and hairstyle has always been a symbolic expression of everything that I felt inside. Each time I return home, I feel like it's a moment of rebirth and I am a whole new person again. I am no longer who I was months before. Friends who meant the world to me before I flew to Europe no longer have a place in my life. Things that were important to me a few months ago now no longer have priority in my schedule. Going home to Malaysia always signal a reshuffle of priorities, reflecting the change of my personal beliefs and desires.

Not many people have the opportunity to grow and change like the way I do. Maybe that is why they are still reflections of themselves from years ago while I have lived the lives of a thousand women. Maybe people are meant to grow and develop. Maybe people are supposed to take another route in their lives. Maybe they are trapped in their circumstance and cannot evolve into the person they only dreamt of each night. Maybe I am supposed to be trapped too.