Author: Sheela Goh

The Short Story

Vertically challenged me In all my 60 inch splendour   Here’s the thing. I never thought of myself as being short until I came to live in the States.  Up until then, I considered myself average.  That came to a screeching halt in 2007.  All of a sudden, 5 feet nothing seemed like, well, nothing. It was quite funny, actually. If I was walking down the hallways of Eve’s middle school, I’d very often be mistaken for a student.  From the back, of course.  I mean, no matter the power of (youthful, seemingly age-defying) Asian genes, one can only look that much younger when viewed from the front (it’s like gazing into a mirror with 5x amplification, very humbling). Victorian White Lace Blouse & Distressed Denim Shorts (both H&M in Kuching) | Sunnies (Poshmark) | Spiked Blush Booties (Shoe Ocean) | Lipstick (22 @ Kylie Cosmetics) Help was is always required when grocery shopping because, you know, the good stuff would invariably be placed on top shelves. And public seats would always require some form …

Alternative Therapy

Tatau. Tattoo. The world of body art.   Some of my last few pieces have been on the serious side (alright alright, gloom and doom, and more gloom and doom), and I felt it high time to demonstrate that I actually do more with my life than just contemplate and ponder and dissect and analyse.  I really am a goofy (and occasionally) fun-to-be-around-with sort of person, pinkie swear (although you may want to ask Shelbee for her unbiased opinion, or perhaps Oby, or maybe you could drop Sofia a line to see what she has to say).  As such, for today (and perhaps the next post as well), allow me to share with you a few of the (major) cool things that Eve and I managed to do during our one week stay in Singapore. Once upon a time back in early June.  Shallow as the (vast majority of) people might be, there are still a gazillion and one epic things to partake of in the Lion City, such as Universal Studios, the Zoo, Gardens …

Sheela | Sheela Writes

What Glam Means To Me

Being all chichi. And dressed up to the nines.   Can I tell you a secret? I hate the dressing up formally.  I really do. Whenever the dresscode reads as Black Tie or Formal, I go just a lighter shade of pale.  And inwardly, I cringe.  Oh alright, on the outside as well.  There’s something about the notion of being all dolled up that really bothers me.  I haven’t quite put a finger on it but I suspect it has to do with the stereotypical perception of Formal = the colour Black. You all know how much I loathe predictability. Silver Grey Velvet Duster  (Boohoo) | Lace Bra (Poshmark) | Gym Tank (worn inside out, Firedaughter Clothing @ Etsy) | Black Capris (Herban Devi @ Etsy) | Fishnets (Halloween Spirit Store) | Swarovski Embellished Booties (Bakers) | Spiked Clutch (Betsey Johnson, thrifted) | Sunnies (Poshmark) | Lipstick (22 @ Kylie Cosmetics) THE WORD “PREDICTABLE” OUGHT TO BE BANNED FROM THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE When I think Black Tie (or Formal), my mind immediately conjures up a …

Oui, Mademoiselle

French Chic. What does that even mean?   I’ll be the first to admit to not quite grasping the entire concept of, “French Chic“.  And since I’m on that confessional train, let me also admit to neither being a fan thereof nor even believing the vibe actually exists. As you all well know, I subscribe to the maxim of more is more.  Always have.  And from what I’ve gleaned of how the French dress today, the look is (often) clean and spare.  Minimal fuss.  Pared down with the occasional statement clutch or heel.  Chignons (or, at the very least, sleek hair).  Delicate jewellery.  Lipsticks are either very nude or very bold red.  And the colour black.  A lot of black. French style is all about the nuances.  Subtlety.  Details. Embellished Leather Jacket  (Pinko, purchased in Italy) | Striped Top & Beret (Forever21) | Black Capris with Attached Miniskirt (Herban Devi @ Etsy) | Striped Heels (Shoe Ocean) | Red Cuff (Kate Spade, thrifted) | Sunnies (Poshmark) | Lipstick (22 @ Kylie Cosmetics) MY PERSONAL STYLE …

Sheela | Sheela Writes

Athleisure All Around

It’s been a while, I know. Almost precisely two months, in fact.   Hello everyone!!  Sporadic would be an understatement to describe my presence here on the blog for the past three months.  Summer proved to be immensely challenging when it came to keeping up with posting.  At least, it was for me.  I know many of my peers demonstrate enviable organisational skills and foresight in the area of planning-ahead-when-vacation-comes but not I.  Clearly. Firstly, we were in Singapore and Malaysia from 8th June all the way to 13th July.  Spending time with family and ex-family (is that even a valid concept?  When a couple divorces, does that mean they divorce the in-laws as well?  And do the in-laws become out-laws?). CAN YOU TELL I’M A LITTLE OFF KILTER? Knit & Leather Jacket  (purchased in Italy) | Sports Bra (Target) | Black & Olive Green Capris (Herban Devi @ Etsy) | Embroidered Suede Trainers (Nike) | Black Crossover Bag (Prada, thrifted) | Sunnies (Poshmark) | Lipstick (22 @ Kylie Cosmetics) In Asia, socialising with the …

Making A Choice

Choosing is nerve-wracking. Choosing is also really, really good.   You get to choose who you are. There will be times in life when others try to tell you who you are. Don’t listen. There will be times in life when others try to reduce you to a label, adjective, or judgment. Don’t acquiesce. There will be times when others will tell you to focus on consumption and competition. Don’t look. Our social, cultural, economic, religious, political systems will try to stuff your uniquely shaped soul into a boring box. Resist the temptation to conform and climb in. RESIST WITH ALL YOUR MIGHT You will be told there’s one way to be and one way to do. Don’t buy into that bullshit. You are a multifaceted, dynamic, ever-changing, complex, precious soul inside a human body. You can spend a lifetime trying to deprogramme, and unlearn these lies. It’s easy to feel lost in a mountain of falsehoods, searching for the shards of truth you once knew, and now have to claw your way to rediscovering.  …

Explosive Moments

This will self destruct in 3 seconds. 3-2-1 BOOOOOOM!!!!!! (just kidding, ish)   We’ve all been guilty of one or ten self destructive acts in our lifetimes, haven’t we? I was just talking about it the other day, in one of my conversations with Eve about processing and accepting self love.  And decided I wanted to write a list of my Top 10 Acts of Self Destruction.  To see which ranked the highest.  How it happened.  What I could possibly have done differently. Here we go.  The single most self destructive thing I’ve ever done to myself was to believe in someone else’s opinion of me. I ALLOWED MYSELF TO PUT STOCK INTO SOMEONE ELSE’S PERCEPTION OF ME I gave someone else permission to rule, manage and control my life, and the way I wanted to live.  I handed over my free will to someone else, and basically told them it was alright to let their perspective, their story, their limitations impose upon who I am. Their vision took priority over mine. I offered up …

Old Habits

So, I’m in Singapore at the moment. The sunny island of Singapore.   This is where, a long time ago, I lived, worked, got married and had a baby.  It’s where I had Eve.  Shortly after she was born, my marriage with Eve’s father deteriorated and we divorced.  I then moved to the States, to begin a new life with my husband, Pierluigi, and his two boys. It’s been 12 years since I set foot here. I have a complicated relationship with this place.  It’s a mix of loathing and appreciation (more on this in a subsequent post, and how it’s gone a long way towards creating the woman that I am today). If you’ve read my rant on Instagram, you’d understand part of the hate.  Women such as myself who are independent, free-spirited, intelligent, and articulate (in other words, not quite the traditional Asian female) are disliked, distrusted, unaccepted.  And heaven help us should we earn more than our men. For the entire decade I was there, I was made fun of (for my …

The View

I spent a long time mulling over this image. I debated on posting it and showing the world such a close view of my legs. Anyone who knows me knows how much I dislike that part of my body. For many reasons. From shape and muscular structure, to girth, fat, and how scarred they are. It began from when I was a teenager. I had body dysmorphia even then, although I didn’t know it had a name. I only knew I hated the sight of my (tree trunk) legs and that if I could help it, no one would ever EVER see them. That continued for many years until I was 26. I had a spurt of post-natal body love and participated in a beauty pageant which necessitated that I parade up and down the runway in a bikini (I know I know but it was an interesting experience). After that concluded, I retreated back into my shell. More than 1.5 decades were to pass before I, at the age of 40, felt they were …

Recharge, Reboot, Reset

A fresh start.   This will be a short one, my friends.  Yes, it does seem rather inadequate given that I’ve been silent and missing for a month.  But change is a-foot.  In my heart.  Within the family.  On the blog.  And that change has not only opened my eyes to an expanded level of awareness, it has also aided me in concluding how I am meant to continue on this writing journey. WE ALL NEED A RESET BUTTON Which is not a bad thing. Starting from scratch can be good. I’m certain many would concur that we all need to use that reset button now and again.  When time seems to pass ever. so. very. slowly.  When everything seems tried and tested, done and done.  When one begins to turn a deaf ear to the crisp rustle of turning pages.  And when the sight of lightning streaking across the sky no longer brings about a sigh of contentment and pleasure.  Well, those are my personal indicators, yours may very well be much different but …