Sliced up, kneaded, crimped, stapled, pounded upon, stretched out, stuffed into and stitched up…the list goes on.

Sometimes, being a woman is kind of like being Frankenstein’s monster. Why? Because in your own twisted way, you create your very own monster to fulfill your notion of beauty. And for once in my life, I can say I’ve actually succumbed to this. I’m not just talking about slapping on some make-up to enhance features that I already have but changing a major aspect of my lifestyle to accommodate something new.

No, I am not pregnant…oy! No, I didn’t get a pet…my mother is too afraid of the furries…before your imagination goes into overdrive, here’s a hint. It’s safe to say that if you chance upon me one of these days, I’ll be missing the one key element that I’m most recognized for.

Well, all the better to beliak at you with, as they say in my family. It’s a weird, if permanent adjustment that I’m still getting used to. I still touch the side of my temple or the bridge of my nose in fond reminiscence and actually spent the better half of five minutes this morning searching for my beloved abandoned appendage. Oh, that and the fact that I am still getting used to the stranger in the mirror.

All in the name of vanity, right? At least now, I can dance without chucking them into the audience, wear eye make-up and perhaps even wakeboard again. The weird effect that I’m still trying to live with is of course, the strange halo effect that hangs around the edges of things that I look at. Ok people, for once, you all can claim that you are angels. Heh.

Oh and if after reading all this you are still wondering what the hell I did, it’s Lasik dah. Bodoh seh you, right? Tsk, tsk tsk…

The entire procedure was a quick and pretty painless. But harrowing for me…with my innate fear of needles, blades, and uh doctors, I actually managed to get a hold of my fears up until the last moment. This was after they held stuck down my eyelid and my eye in place with the corneal suction ring, then I heard the bloody metal blade go ‘schlep’ and almost fainted dead away…was too numb to even respond to the doctor and instead relied on hand gestures to indicate that I was ok.

The good thing is that, you can see the improvements straight after surgery. The fact that I could actually read my nurses’ name tag almost made me burst into tears. After 20 years in glasses, you cannot imagine the feeling of being able to see unaided. The feeling of like 'woa!' almost reminded me of the time when I went to bed with my glasses on and woke up thinking: "OMG, it's a miracle!"

Meanwhile, I’m resting at home, taking care of my eyes and trying to adjust to my new vision without trying to strain them overmuch. The girls on the other hand, are plotting things which I am afraid to name and will probably face sooner or later. Will probably turn me into the Bride of Frankenstein, or something…They are scary, I tell you.

I suppose I'll worry about that when the time comes...in the meantime, I’ll be seeing you.

Since I returned from Darwin, I’ve attended two funerals. One was my grandma and last night, I attended the wake of her sister (my grandaunt). It caught everyone by surprise that our grandaunt passed on so suddenly, for she was neither sick nor ailing.

It’s an emotionally battering period for everyone in the family when the matriarchs are slowly making their exits. My grandma and her sisters have held the family together for decades. Now there are so few of them left. These are the women who raised us, and taught us everything they knew.

And they were very talented too. Grandma and her sisters could make anything with their hands; from sewing the traditional kasut manek manek (beaded slippers), to cooking every single Peranakan dish, fashioning inventive desserts and birthday cakes, making clothes for the girls and just creating handicrafts out of household items. Come to think of it, they were the original Martha Stewart before she brought home-style living to popular culture today.

While almost all my aunts have inherited or learnt the crafts from our grandmothers, it’s sad that not many in my generation have done so. I’m probably one of the very few in the family who can still understand and converse in Peranakan and even whip up some of the dishes, while most of my cousins can’t.

While at the wake last night, my aunts came up to me to commend me on the eulogy that I delivered at Grandma’s funeral: “You sounded exactly like her, when you said that,” they commented. Ah, the anecdotes that I can tell from being raised by my grandparents! When such loving, yet strong-willed people raise you, it’s a wonder that you don’t start sounding or even behaving a little like them after some time.

From death my thoughts shifted to love. My old friend, Mr Mogel finally sent me a picture of his adorable kids. I’m not much of a fan of kids but the picture absolutely melted my heart, I’d post them online but I don’t know how comfortable he is about that, so I’ll refrain.

For a bittersweet moment, it made me long for things that I’ve much thought to lately and actually feel things that I’ve kept inside for so long.

I wasn't much of a Coldplay fan until A Rush of Blood to the Head but at times, I get caught up in Chris Martin's lyrics Looking at where I am now and things I have to consider, this song is a bittersweet wake-up call.