Devouring my fave snack of the moment, Veronica Yip ™… (=”dai bao” haha. serious! that’s how they labelled them to be sold as.) I was contemplating about the precise time when I got too big for my own boobs.

That day perhaps has to be when my fat obese cousin (let’s call her “Lady” coz she always calls herself that. :P) quizzed me the whole day about world issues and so on. I suspected that she never really wanted to believe that I was able to hold my own in intellectual conversations for the longest time ever since she rolled her eyes at me the moment she laid her squinty eyes on me after about 10years or so of not meeting each other since childhood. I must have looked every bit like the airhead bimbo a lot of people was telling me then compared to the schoolteacher look I’m kinda partial to nowadays when I’m dressed down in my glasses.

Or the fact that I was a lot taller, skinnier and love short skirts besides my IQ of 155. (I don’t usually call people “obese”. You hafta be obese if you were about 110kgs in a 5-foot-nothing frame.)

One prominent event that I still remember til this day is when she looked so shocked when I told her about my fondness for Fraiser in comparison to Friends.

Lady: Huh? You like.. Fraiser?

naeboo: Yea.. it’s hell funny.

Lady: Do you even understand the jokes??

naeboo: ….

I let it slide coz I couldn’t be bothered to make big of stupid things and apparently, my PMS is not the same as other gals’. There’s hardly satisfaction to go into a catfight with delusional people.

So, she suggested a whole night-long Fraiser session with our pizzas during dinner. The look on her face would have been akin to if I were changing my used sanitary pad in front of her and hurling the soiled cotton pony across the room while lip-synching to one of the Spice Girls grrl-powarh songs when it became more and more obvious that I indeed *do* get the jokes.

Of course, now that I think back of that moment, I have a slight gloating satisfaction like what Walter Cronkite would have felt if he wore schoolgirl plaids and a garter belt underneath the newsdesk. :D

||You give your hand to me
||And then you say, “Hello”
||And I can hardly speak
||My heart is beating so
||And anyone can tell
||You think you know me well
||Well, you don’t know me
||No, you don’t know me

||No, you don’t know the one
||Who dreams of you each night
||And longs to kiss your lips
||And longs to hold you tight
||Oh, I’m just a friend
||That’s all I’ve ever been
||’Cause you don’t know me
||No, you don’t know me

||For I never knew the art of making love
||Though my heart aches with love for you
||Afraid and shy, I let my chance go by
||A chance that you might love me too

||You give your hand to me
||And then you say, “Goodbye”
||I watched you walk away
||Beside the lucky guy
||Oh, you’ll never ever know
||The one who loved you so
||Well, you don’t know me

———-

Ray Charles– You Don’t Know Me