September 28, 2012

Bralets Should Be Banned!

I bought a couple of bralets almost 2 months ago when I was still tubby, to inspire me to lose weight. I've seen photos of girls wearing cropped bustiers on the web and I thought they looked absolutely adorable! Now that I'm fit to wear one, I found out that I don't have the right body type for this piece of clothing. I hate skinny people even more! Why do they look great in almost everything they wear, while I have the tendency to look like a middle aged harlot if I don't choose my clothes carefully? Am I going to be stuck forever in cutesy, ├╝ber feminine, princessy dresses?

I was already fully dressed, on my way out to get my friend a birthday present, when I saw myself in the mirror. I did a double take and realized I looked borderline OBSCENE.

Scratch that. I looked like a half-starved cougar on the prowl or a philanthropist about to breastfeed the entire nation. Depends on the angle.

Regardless, I still camwhored prior to changing into a boring outfit, so I can show off my now-defined obliques (Abdominal fat is stubborn.  I worked hard for these 2 cuts! They deserve to be seen).

Below is a side by side comparison of myself today and 7 weeks ago. My, what a difference 8 kgs. make! I'm currently on a high protein diet, plus supplements. I still religiously do cardio and weight lifting. I'm no longer shedding the lbs. In fact, I'm starting to gain weight... muscle weight that is. My goal is to have Salma Hayek's body (ca. 1996. Check it out here.). I know it's close to impossible but a girl can dream. I even intend to pray very hard and keep on sacrificing virgins every full moon. I want it THAT bad.

A snippet of a recent conversation with my husband:

him: Baby... I need to tell you something.

me: Yes. Go on.

him: Baby... uhm... your boobs are as big as your head.

me:  %&$#?@!

He's a charmer, isn't he?

bralet: New Look
skirt: Forever 21
shoes: River Island
bracelet: from Thailand
earrings: from Mom

September 27, 2012

Faking Prettiness 101

Hello! I'm Lizzie. I was an ugly duckling.

My classmates loved to call me caterpillar (because apparently, I looked like one.. although how a human kid could resemble a larva is still a mystery to me). My older cousins christened me fish lips, and eventually, retarded goat. So convinced were they of my "goatness" that they even leashed me and tied me to a window sill one fateful day. I stayed fettered for a couple of hours.

And people wonder why I have issues!

From a bullied ugly duckling, I grew up to be...

No, not a beautiful swan. I'm not that predictable.

I grew up to be an average duck.

Yes. Life sucks and fairytales are for babies.

I embraced being average, however. It's not so bad after all. Being naturally beautiful might have made me a bigger asshat, anyway. Gah! Can you imagine?! 

Enough with the prelude and let's get down to business. Please note that this is not a makeup tutorial. This is a lesson in deception at its finest. It's tried and tested: I managed to trick a yummy fiiiiiine male specimen after all. Poor thing is stuck with me for eternity. :)

1. Start with a blank canvas. 
Cleanse. Moisturize. Protect.

This is me, in all my average glory. Taken early in the morning, less than hour after I woke up (I washed my face and brushed my teeth, of course. How can I ever take pictures of myself with morning breath?). No makeup. No Photoshop. No creepy doll-like contact lenses.  If a pig and a puffer fish would have a baby, that would be me. My husband insists that I am at my cutest in the morning, though. I believe him because he usually smothers me with hugs and kisses before he goes to work, well... not when I'm drooling excessively on my pillow. It happens sometimes, you know.

Fat face. 


2. Get even. 
Invest in a good foundation.

I seldom use foundation these days. I prefer to use tinted moisturizer because it's more gentle to the skin and is lightweight. Although it has an almost sheer finish, it does a good job in evening out my skin tone. I also don't have to worry about sporting a kabuki mask whenever I want to overenthusiastically slap it on my face.

Snapseed filter added. Gotta stick to my vintage-y style somehow. 


3. Cover up.
Concealer is for useful for hiding yesterday's hangover and fooling men into thinking you're flawless covering up redness, dark under eye circles, and post-acne hyperpigmentation. Best applied with a brush.

Snapseed Filter added
As shot. Chicken pox scar alert! 


4. Fill in. 
If you have sparse eyebrows or if you have a husband who loves to tickle you (I was reshaping my brows last week when my husband decided it was the perfect time to tickle me. My left brow was cut in half. And because I'm a genius, I shortened the right one as well), you must have a good eyebrow kit. I prefer powder because it gives a more natural finish. Pencil, especially on untrained hands, is likely to make the brows look severe.

As shot.


5.  Mattify
A good powder not only sets the foundation/tinted moisturizer and brow powder, it also gives your face a velvety finish. Plus points if it can conceal pores.
As shot. 

6.  Flush it!
Blush can brighten up your face and make you look like you haven't been avoiding vegetables and the sun since 1995. 
As shot.

7. Stain
Prettify those puckers.

I prefer lip stains/tints because they last longer and they look less dramatic --- eating a tub full of raspberries might deliver the same results. I haven't tried it yet. In case you want to, let me know how it goes. 
As shot.


8. Define!
Lining the eyes is one of my most favorite beauty tricks. It does wonders to one's appearance. For a softer look, I moisten a fine-tipped brush, dip it in dark brown eyeshadow and line my lids as close to the lash line as possible
As shot.

9. Get nude. 
Stick to neutrals. They're versatile.

I'm partial to understated, barely-there eye makeup because:

a. It doesn't make me look like a hooker Barbie wannabe.
b. It doesn't give people the impression that my face has been violated by a toddler who just discovered Crayola.

As shot. Wearing circle lenses. 
As shot. I almost always use shades of brown eye makeup. I'm boring. 


10. Distract them!
Wear something pretty on your head --- like a chic hat, dainty headband or live birds. It will divert people's attention from your imperfections. 

As shot. Nose contoured using medium brown eye shadow. 

11. 'Shop 'til you drop! 

Photoshop can be your best friend. This is optional, however. Whatever you do, please remember to never EVER try this at home:

Scary, right?

As shot.
After basic adjustments +  airbrushing.

"There are no ugly women, just lazy ones."

NOTE:  I'm average and there is absolutely nothing wrong with being one. I'm not here to fish for compliments. Honesty isn't synonymous with false modesty. What's more, having a realistic view of one's self (looks-wise) isn't equivalent to body dysmorphic disorder and/or insecurities.


Bobbi Brown tinted moisturizer
Benefit Boi-ing concealer
Red Earth brow kit
Benefit Hello Flawless powder
Clinique Blushwear cream stick
Max Factor Lipfinity lip tint
NYX Smokey Look Collection


Polka dotted headband: Forever 21
Floral headband: Claire's

September 20, 2012

Understanding Crazy Cat Lady Disorder

TRIVIA: There are two cats in this post. 

Good day, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Lizzie. I'm a Crazy Cat Lady.

I was diagnosed with CCLD at the tender age of 4. This debilitating psychiatric condition prompted my being reclusive and distrustful. I'm writing this to raise awareness and perhaps accumulate funds for shopping the International CCLD Foundation, an institution that cares for the Crazy Cat Ladies who were ruthlessly ostracized by society. 


Crazy Cat Lady disorder (CCLD) also known as LOLCatia (historically known as Ailuropathy) is a progressive severe mental illness exclusive to female Homo Sapiens characterized by extreme obsession with Felis Catus, a highly intellectual celestial genus (not genius, mmmkay?) that silently and methodically dominated Planet Earth in late 1900s. Human peasants, especially those who possess substandard cerebral capacity refer to Felis Catus simply as "cats". 

Cats are the superior race in the solar system. They are formidable subjugators and are exceptionally accomplished in manipulating and enslaving lower ranking, less intelligent species such as the Homo Sapiens. 


Unknown. Ongoing research. 

Signs and Symptoms

1. Unhealthy addiction and/or emotional attachment to cats. 

Someone afflicted with CCLD has her entire life revolving around her furry master(/s). She tends to be clingy and is in constant need of her cat's attention. She cannot be separated from her cat for longer than 8 hours, else she suffers from severe anxiety attacks and sometimes convulsions. She hoards clothes with cat logo/prints, cat figurines and cat-shaped accessories. Her blog and other social networking accounts have catcentric designs. 

2. Aversion to social interactions and human connection. 

A Crazy Cat Lady has propensity for alienating the people around her. She believes that no human is worth the precious time she'd rather spend cuddling, feeding or entertaining her cats. Face it, human beings are just not that fascinating!

3. Immunity to feline bodily effluvia. 

A Crazy Cat Lady is apparently unaffected by the stench of kitty poop and pee. So strong is her ability to withstand the foul smell, she becomes unaware that she reeks of  brimming cat litter box when she's outside. Commoners generally avoid CCLD sufferers because of this. 

4. Chronic Terminological Inexactitude. 

A Crazy Cat Lady constantly lies in order to avoid fraternizing with humans. Examples below:

human: Hey, drinks tonight?

CCL: It's that time of the month. I have mega-cramps. The pain is so unbearable, my vision is now blurred! I think I'm dying, ohmigawd! *audible sigh*

human: Oh. Next time then. Get well soon. 

*after hanging up*

CCL: Here kitty kitty kitty! Let's play! Tonight is hide-and-seek night!


human employer: You look like a mess! Have you been getting enough sleep lately?

CCL: My baby is very sick. 

human employer: I didn't know you have a baby. 

CCL: I do! A beautiful baby boy. You never asked.  *sobs* 

human employer: I'm sorry. Why don't you take a few days off?

CCL: Thank youuu. God Bless your kindness!

*at home

CCL: Here kitty kitty kitty. Are your eyes still watery, you poor little baby?! Mommy got you eyedrops! I'll stay with you until you're fully recovered from that godawful eye irritation. 

5. Degenerative speech defect. 

A Crazy Cat Lady's vocabulary is reduced to "Ooooh!", "Squeee!", "Babycakes", "Schnooglesweetiepops", and a few more unintelligible, evidently idiotic words. She iz inclind 2 speek an' tipe  in LOLCAT too. Her voice rises up to 8 octaves when talking to her cat(/s). 

6. Preternatural ability to tell two identical cats apart. Need I say more?

7. Insomnia. This is caused by the harrowing need to view tens of thousands of cat videos and photos on teh internetz. 

8. Inability to discuss noncat-related topics. 

9. Ailurophotomania. A Crazy Cat Lady regularly experiences overwhelming compulsion to take gazillion pictures of her cats. 

10. Delusion.  A person with CCLD starts to believe she is a cat approximately a year (may take longer for some) after being exposed to Felis Catus. This is demonstrated by hissing, clawing at opponent's face, purring when contented, and eating the same stuff over and over again --- typically salmon, cheese and milk. 


Unfortunately, CCLD has no known cure.  Psychiatrists recommend palliative treatment to relieve the patients of misery. This includes: chocolates, retail therapy and more cats. 


Since my treatment can be costly, I accept donations in cash, cheque and Paypal. Alternatively, you can give me your credit card details so I can use it for online shopping galore. Please email it to: I promise not to max it out. 

I will send you a kitty postcard with my lipstick print on it, a pouch of my cats' shed fur and a photo of their gonads. Thank you so very much. 


dress: Splash 
shoes: Anna Nucci 
jewelry: Tiffany 
tiara: Diva

September 18, 2012

Of Magical Bosom and Unicorns

Some of you know me personally, some have been my online sisters and BFFs for the longest of time. Some visited Pretty/Ugly just recently --- whether reluctantly or voluntarily, it doesn't really matter. You were here and you have seen how annoying I can be. I would like to thank each and everyone of you for wasting a little of your time going through my pointless blog. It means a lot to me. You ought to be called saints and heroes because your patience is epic. If you were in front of me right now, I would kiss your feet and call you "your highness".

My name is Lizzie, by the way. I'm a troll.

I'm not habitually obnoxious. I have often been called sedate, soft-spoken  and prim & proper in real life. However, many would find my humor offensive. I'm easily misjudged because of my choice of inappropriate words. I would like to say I'm deeply saddened but that would be lying. The truth is: I seriously don't give a flying f*ck! (Sorry, Jesus. I know that good Catholic ladies do not utter profanities but I can't help it. This city has taught me how to use the F word in 336,582,912 ways.)

I've been  receiving several not-so-pleasant comments on my last outfit post. Some people actually believe that I'm peddling my breasts to get more clients. Seriously? Must they take everything so literally?  I can't help it if my boobs are enchanting but pleaaaaase give me a break! It's awfully frustrating how others don't EVER give my fabulous hindquarters some credit! What is wrong with these people? Boobs are overrated and so '80s.

I know I said that I don't give a damn yet here I am troubling you with my blogging diarrhea. Please don't label me a hypocrite yet. I'm simply using the hate comments (which I chose to not publish because they're repetitive and quite vitriolic) as an excuse to whine. Whining and wallowing in self pity are some of my favorite leisure activities after all. Good news is, this post won't be about me... much.

I have no tolerance for condescending people (I knoooow... I'm getting to the not-about-me part in a moment). I don't know how they can derive pleasure from belittling those who they think are weak. Where's the challenge in that? If I want to tear somebody to shreds, I'd rather pick someone my own size. It's more gratifying for my ego if I succeed. Considering my frame, I'll most likely pick an evil baby bunny or a very angry hedgehog.

Moving on...

I often have the honor of meeting uppity photographers (both hobbyists and pros). They travel in packs like wolves and generally think alike. They must have telepathic powers, like Jacob Black and his fursploding, glitterette-loathing, sparklies-exterminating friends. I try to avoid them because their awesomeness is so terrifying, they make me want to weep and compose sonnets. They all say the same things over and over and over again, like a prayer. Their mantras include:

1. "People who think they're photographers just because they have a DSLR camera are pathetic wannabes."

If you happen to freshly discover photography and decided to buy a costly camera because you want to pursue this newfound interest, you are considered retarded.

In their world, only they are qualified to walk around with big cameras hanging around their necks. Self-entitled much? Also, you can never take pride in your (still amateurish) work because they're "not good enough" anyway and they'll hate your guts for it.

They deny being enthusiastic newbies, once upon a time, who proudly showed their photos to everyone they knew. Their heads have become overinflated with hubris, they seem to have forgotten that they started from scratch as well (unless they were born with a badass full frame camera and started taking pictures inside their mothers' wombs from the moment of conception --- unfortunately, not even Jesus can make this feat possible).

2. "We can take great pictures with a crappy disposable camera and give those wannabes a run for their money.

While I agree that good pictures do not necessarily require a high end camera and professional caliber lenses, I have to say that quality gears help in producing excellent photos. Kindly note the word "help". If the person behind the lens does not know what he/she is doing, oh well... you know what the outcome will be.

At least he/she has fancy gadgets. Fancy gadgets are always cool. I'm shallow, what can I do?

Do I need to mention printing? In my opinion, you have the right to happily (H-A-P-P-I-L-Y, not patronizingly) announce that you can take good photographs when you can produce great prints. Pictures can effortlessly look pretty on your lcd panel or your computer screen, but there is no guarantee that they will look decent when printed in, say, A4 size or a 3m x 3m canvas. Phones, tablets and compact cameras have their limitations. Why do you think pro equipment are so expensive?

3. "You don't need Photoshop if you take good pictures."

They are right. I know a lot of superb photographers who stick to traditional approach and I admire their works. Competitive lensmen (and women) can create beautiful photographs without any manipulation involved. I, on the other hand, am taking advantage of the technology. To each her own.

My only thought about this matter is this: Bad pictures are bad. Simple, isn't it?

There is no solution to a bad photograph. Not Photoshop. Not the rosary. Not even voodoo.

Photoshop is not the new unicorn! It only exists to further improve the quality of an already satisfactory picture. Satisfactory means well-composed, properly exposed and the subject in focus. It cannot magically transform a third rate snapshot into a word class piece of art.

Not unless you're Jesus. 

I use Photoshop not only to enhance my work but also to make it more Lizzie: delicate and achingly girly. You might have noticed that I am partial to bright and airy photos with a tinge of pink. Please don't judge me. I like pink.

I respect other people's opinions and preferences. I only have a problem with those who have an overwhelming sense of superiority.  I imagine that if we could only convert arrogance into money, we'd be living in a wealthy, harmonious world. 

Before and After? 

No. Not really. This is straight out of the camera. It's untouched (aside from resizing and duplicating for this particular blog entry) . It's a cute shot, yes? I like it.

Did it make me feel like a camera goddess knowing that there's no need for me to post-process this shot? Nah. It simply made me realize how eerily people look under magenta lights.*shudders*

Photoshopped works below. They're not outstanding but they're the only photos available. I was too lazy to go through everything (Three 500 GB worth of external hard disks. That's a LOT) but I wanted to post some examples to prove that even though Photoshop is not the new unicorn, my boobs are still magical.

It is known.


P.S.  I will not publish any vulgar comments. If you're a little curious, I got a few mentioning the words sodomy and telephoto lens in the same sentence (most likely from the same person)Hahaha! How very creative!

NOTE: The makeup artist did a really bad job on the model. You can see the streaks of (dark) foundation. I was not there when the model was being dolled up, else I would have asked the MUA to correct it. 

Even dogs need some Photoshop loving too.

September 17, 2012

Hire Me Maybe?

My petrified blow up doll impression

Hello! As usual, I'm here to talk about myself. It's one of the talents I have perfected through the years, along with throwing hissy fits, playing dead and being despicable. 

My name is Princess Stabbity Stab Lizzie and I'm a professional photographer. 


Please don't raise your eyebrows.


According to Oxford dictionary, a "professional" is a person engaged in a specified activity as a main paid occupation rather than as a pastime. See? Photography is my chief source of income. Believe it or not, people pay me to take pictures. Use of force, blackmail or hypnosis is not even necessary. They come to me willingly. I have a long list of clients and some of my works have been published/exhibited. It is a surprise even to me. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm not being humble. Modesty does not run through my veins. I know I'm good. I take my job very seriously, I am familiar (and rather comfortable) with its technical aspects,  I treat my clients well and I deliver. In spite of all that, I still have a realistic view of myself and what I'm capable of: 

I already stated that I know I'm good.

However, I also know I'm not THAT good. 

I would say I'm somewhere in between remarkably mediocre and fairly good. I'm constantly striving for improvement, though. Talent alone is not enough to guarantee a steady stream of clients. Eagerness to learn and experiment is just as crucial. Flair for marketing helps too and so does boobies. 

Yes, you read that right. Boobies. 

They are potent magical weapons. They can leave pretty much everyone spellbound and blinded to your shortcomings. They're like honey to bees, garbage to flies, laxatives to a constipated man, candies to children and sweat to armpits. 

Where I'm living now, male photographers massively outnumber us shutterladybugs but I was never really concerned. I have something these guys don't after all.

And I wear heels on top. Who else can pull that off?  

Uh, I forgot what I was about to write next. Oh well. For those who aren't friends with me on Facebook:

photographer:  I never Photoshop the pictures I take. *puffs up chest and smiles smugly*  

me:  Whatever floats your boat. Your photos are ugly anyway. *rolls eyes*



I did not wear the pink wig outside. I only wanted a girly portrait of me with my camera.


I wanted to write something informative but... well... I got distracted. I can never really be serious for longer than 2 minutes. And I can't write anyway. :p

dress: Bubble Tees
shoes: La Pepe
floral headband: H&M
bag: H&M
wig: from Mum