Kalau makan di Pizza Hut, orang biasanya tidak pernah melewatkan sajian salad-nya yang menggiurkan itu, dimana kita bisa milih sendiri sayuran dan segala tetek bengek yang ada disitu, beserta saus-sausnya yang beragam. Kebanyakan orang menggunakan kesempatan “sekali ngambil” ini untuk menumpuk salad sebanyak-banyaknya di mangkuk yang kecil itu.

Entah siapa yang mempopulerkan kebiasaan “menumpuk salad” di Pizza Hut ini. Saya jadi ingat dulu waktu saya kecil, saat kami sekeluarga sedang makan-makan di restoran yang sama, saya pergi mengambil salad juga, namun tidak pakai sistem tumpuk-menumpuk seperti yang dilakukan oleh orang-orang, karena saya takut tidak bisa menghabiskannya – seperti yang ibu saya selalu mengajarkan, “Janganlah membuang-buang makanan”. Begitu saya kembali ke meja, salah seorang anggota keluarga yang melihat mangkuk saya kontan berkata, “Yah, rugi banget cuma ngambil segitu. Mestinya tadi ngambil yang banyakan dong! Sayang, udah bayar mahal-mahal!”

Sekarang kalau saya mengingat-ingat lagi kenangan di masa kecil itu, saya jadi berpikir, sebenarnya, siapakah yang paling kere disini? Saya, yang mengambil sesuai dengan apa yang bisa saya makan, atau mereka yang menumpuk makanan di mangkuk mereka sebanyak-banyaknya, tidak peduli apakah mereka bisa menghabiskan semua makanan tersebut atau tidak? Karena dengan jumlah bayaran yang sama per-mangkuk, saya mengambil jatah yang lebih sedikit, sedangkan mereka mengambil dengan lebih banyak. Apakah karena dengan harga per mangkuk tersebut, orang-orang sudah merasa mereka semestinya bisa mendapatkan lebih dari yang seharusnya?

Mungkinkah dengan harga sekian rupiah per mangkuk tersebut, bagi kebanyakan orang sudah merupakan harga yang terlalu mahal untuk tidak mengambil porsi makanan sebanyak-banyaknya?

Ditambah lagi, saya terus terang saja merasa bingung melihat ada yang menumpuk sayur-sayuran seperti jagung, buncis, wortel, telur rebus dan kentang, bawang bombay, lalu ditambah dengan semangka, melon, dan agar-agar rasa strawberry dan jeruk, kemudian menyiram semua kombinasi makanan tersebut dengan saus mayones dan Thousand Island. Saya tidak bisa membayangkan rasanya seperti apa – melihat saja sudah bikin geli, apalagi kalau disuruh makan seluruh kombinasi makanan tersebut dalam satu mangkuk.

Makanan, menurut saya, adalah sesuatu yang harus dinikmati dari rasa, bukan dari porsinya. Semakin banyak kuantitas makanan yang ada di piring saya tidak menjamin bahwa makanan itu bisa menjadi lebih enak.  Membuat saya lebih gemuk iya, tapi tidak lebih enak.

Mungkin ini adalah salah satu efek samping dari kebiasaan buruk bangsa kita – mengambil lebih dari yang kita sanggupi, dan merasa kita berhak mendapatkan sebanyak-banyaknya dengan uang yang telah kita bayar. Bahkan, apabila memungkinkan, lebih banyak dari yang kita bayar.

Saya kadang berpikir; sejak kapan pula bangsa kita telah sedemikan diperbudaknya dengan uang, karena segala-galanya kini diukur dengan uang; segala-galanya diukur dengan pemikiran untung dan rugi. Kalau sudah begini, pantaskah saya bertanya; mental bangsa ini sebenarnya mental kere, atau serakah?

Whenever I visit the magazine stands, I always look for women’s magazines, which is natural for most female beings. I usually alternated between Cosmopolitan, Cleo and Her World for my monthly girly infos.

Thing is; I’m not big on fashion. I rarely shop unless I need to buy something. But I, like any other girls in the world, love the sight of beautiful clothes, fancy make-up and creative photo-shoots. I love looking at beautiful women as much as the next man (himself) and even though I know I’ll never be able to look anything like the models in the magazines, I still devour the pages and look at them longingly.

But something has changed now, and I don’t know exactly how it started – I’ve simply lost my interest in Cosmo and the likes. Maybe it’s the fact that each month, the magazines are getting thicker with advertisements pages (which make them heavier to carry around or to read in bed) or the fact that they give little paraphernalia like pads or mini shampoo bottles (thanks to these magazines I’ve tons of them and I don’t even use them) that make the whole magazines look somewhat cheap and shallow. I’m the firm believer of less is more but of course for magazines like Cosmo it is a no-go.

I often scorn at some of the featured articles in those magazines, especially the ones talking about love, sex and relationships. Titles such as “How to Give the Most Amazing Blow Jobs” and “How to Control Your Man” are enough to make me return the magazines back onto the displays.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve nothing against blow jobs and the likes, but I don’t see the necessity of it being printed on the cover in such large fonts and in shocking pink color. It makes women sound so obsessed with sex (which is probably true) and I’ve observed that all year round, the same articles will be featured more than once, only with different titles and adjustment here and there. Essentially though they have the same purpose – to teach women about sex, love and relationships. But do they really?

If you’ve read Marian Keyes’  novel called Sushi for Beginners, it shows a lot about how women’s magazines are actually produced. Keyes actually did a research and work experience at an actual women’s magazine before she wrote the book, and there was this term that kind of stuck in my head after I finished reading the book, which said that the typical over-crowded magazine covers that used words like (again) blow jobs, orgasms etc., are the typical dumbed-down magazines.

As a collector of women’s magazine myself, I have to admit that my stacks of Cosmo don’t have a lot to do with the way I live my life in terms of being in love and in a relationship. They don’t exactly nourish me or satisfy me in any significant way, except the fact that I have something to read for a few days or so before I finally get bored of all the celebrity gossips and beauty tips that are laden with hidden advertorials. My closet was full of half-empty bottles of body lotion and what-elses which were mentioned on the magazines’ recommended beauty items list, and I ended up using the same items again and again, and wasted my money on things I didn’t even need.

A friend once told me that those magazines were really just 80% advertorials and 20% content and I’ve just realized that he was right. Of course there’s nothing wrong with that – we live in a much more consumptive world these days and Cosmo is just going along for the ride. When there used to be only one type of shampoo to wash your hair with, now there are at least six of them – there’s one for dandruff treatment, unruly hair, dry and oily hair and even curly and color-treated hair.

But with or without the aid of Cosmo, there is no escape to advertisements. They are everywhere – on televisions, on billboards, on x-banners in front of the chemists and especially on the internet, where they come in animation and interactive settings.

Just the other day, I went to the shops to buy some vegetables and I noticed Herbal Essences had launched a brand new packaging look for their new flavored shampoos. They were put on a nice display in blue (you know how much I love the color) and the packaging was so nice, that I decided to buy one. See that? The power of packaging. I once worked at a pharmaceutical company where they mostly refused the idea that packaging design could be that important, and they were mighty wrong. So wrong. Packaging design was just a part of an ad – hey, it made me buy the product after all!

But the expensive shampoo and skincare won’t matter much when I don’t even take care of what’s on the inside. A special shampoo for straight and smooth hair will probably help to make my hair looks better temporarily, but in the long run, it’s taking care of my body and what I put inside it (refrain your thoughts from anything dirty) that’s much more important; such as drinking plenty of water, eating more vegetables and less junk food and exercising at least three times a week.

So now, when I visit the magazines display, I end up coming home with Fitness, Shape and Prevention. I’m trying to live healthy by exercising regularly these days, so I need as much help and information as possible. Of course, there are adverts on those too, we can’t escape them after all, but if they are able to get me off my lazy ass and start burning some calories, they can’t be that bad.

It’s either that, or I’m awarely acknowledging that I’m actually getting old.

To practice “Siapa Cepat Dia Dapat” policy in almost every aspect of their lives. No matter how much discomfort they’ve caused to others.

To be selfish is a good thing. The more selfish, the better. To be exact, it’s the way Indonesians always adapt the attitude of “Fuck off, everyone, I’m an Indonesian and my business is way more important than anybody elses”.

And yet Indonesians are supposed to be famous for their tolerance and courteous behavior towards other. At least that’s what I’ve been brainwashed since I was little.

But tolerable? Really?

I mean, for all I know, Indonesians have become the rudest, most selfish people who give me the shits I hardly look forward to get out of the house without thinking the chance that someone will give me hell – either while driving, or queuing in the bank or simply walking down the road and having to avoid being sexually harassed by a low-life geezer.

Well the author of the article I quoted below was on to something there. The original article was found here. Read it – you’ll have an epiphany. Or not.

Getting a kick out of being Indonesian

Many Indonesians would put “tolerance” at the top of their lists of “national” characteristics.

Tolerance usually means that we tolerate differences, though I personally think it is more applicable to our ability to tolerate the harshest conditions, most notably poverty.

For example, Javanese use the expression “fortunately, I still have my life” in just about every tragic situation that confronts them. This shows we count our blessings.

The late author Mochtar Lubis wrote a list detailing the bad characteristics specific to Indonesians. Included were: Hypocritical, irresponsible, feudalistic, superstitious, extravagant and violent.

On his list of good characteristics, he included helpful, kind-hearted, peaceful, able to show a sense of humor amid hardship, fast learners, easily trained and patient.

How do foreigners perceive us? Our foreign guests are too polite to tell us all the bad things they notice. But I recently came across a list titled “You know you’ve been in Indonesia too long if…” on an Internet web site run by expatriates living in Jakarta.

As long-time residents of this country, expatriates make far better judges of our characters than those who make short visits to the country.

I won’t go into details of the list — just Google it yourself and have a good laugh at the 60-plus characteristics of Indonesians as determined by expatriates.

Instead I’ll just pick out my favorite: “You know you’ve been in Indonesia too long if it has become exciting to see if you can get on the lift (elevator) before anybody else can get off.”

A quick visit to any of Jakarta’s numerous office buildings or malls will somewhat confirm that many if not most people would rather force their way into an elevator before letting those inside get off first.

You would have thought most people would have learned by now that such behavior creates unnecessary jams and discomfort.

Discourteous? Perhaps. Fear of not getting a spot in the elevator? Doubtful. The same thing happens in off-peak hours at malls and office buildings when there is plenty of space in the elevator for everyone.

The expatriates aren’t all that wrong when they say some of us actually get excitement out of doing this. We (or some of us) do it just for the hell of it, to create discomfort for others.

Is this phenomenon specific to Indonesians? Apparently so. I searched for a similar list for other countries and found many, including on Japan, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand and Korea. But they have their own set of peculiarities, and none are related to behavior when getting on and off elevators.

During a recent trip to Malaysia, I was relieved to see a couple sneak into a hotel elevator as the doors were opening.

So, this is a Malay thing, not Indonesian, I thought. But no sooner than the elevator had started moving up, the couple began speaking, to my dismay, in very distinct Javanese accents.

What excitement do you get out of creating such discomfort? That’s really for you to decide. One piece of advice: Just do it once. It can become addictive.

– Eric Musa Piliang

Is Anita McKay. And I had the honor of meeting her in person yesterday. She’d informed me earlier that she would be visiting Indonesia for a holiday (she also mentioned it in her blog) and wanted to have a meet-up with me.

And I was thinking, “Omigod. Gorgeous woman wants to meet up with me. What say you?”

Well of course I obliged happily. Originally I asked to have lunch at Plaza Indonesia since I’m familiar with the route, but then Anita suggested Cazbar at Kuningan. I wasn’t too acquainted with the area and worried that I would get lost (Jakarta’s road and traffic scheme is one of those things in life that frighten me), so I told her I would check my untrustworthy map first – to seek comfort, mind. The map is unbelievably out of date but I don’t blame it really since Jakarta always has a new shopping mall being built every month.

I was telling Rima about meeting at Cazbar and she was like, “You eejit. Kuningan is way closer than Plaza Indonesia and it’s so easy to get there. Where are you coming from?”

I told her I’m going to be coming from Cawang freeway and then she explained to me (Rima’s style and all) that all I had to do was to get out of the Mampang Prapatan exit, turn right, and then turn left to Mega Kuningan area.

I consulted my map again for the umpteenth time just to make sure, until I go, “Omigod, it is easier to get there and so much closer too!”

Yes, yes, the eejit award of the month goes to me, thank you.

Anyway, I got to Cazbar in one piece and although I’d messaged Anita that I would be half an hour late than the previously appointed time (you’ll never know with Jakarta’s traffic so better to be on the safe side), turned out I was actually on time!

Anita wasn’t there yet so she told me to order first – medium lamb chop for her – and I ordered fish and chips and iced lemon tea. The drinks came first, and whilst I was basking in the ambience, this BABE walked in and as soon as I saw her face I realized it was Anita! I really must tell you, peeps – she looked even more beautiful in person and I had to take a few seconds to admire before going back to the real world.

As soon as the food arrived, conversation was by no means stilted, possibly because we were both really starving; Anita from all the stress of being driven by a maniacal taxi driver and me by the gripping fear of getting lost in the unknown of Jakarta’s complicated roads. Our food portion was huge, though I guess it was normal since the venue’s visitors were mostly expatriates, and for a while I was reminded of the time I was in Australia in which I had to stomach in the huge meal portions all the time, and when coming back home (after spending all those years being overseas), realizing that the meal portion here was tiny.

We talked about her being back in Indonesia and how her friend was already making a big deal of her ‘outdated’ mobile phone and urged her to change to Blackberry instead. Apparently, even junior high school students carry them yokes now – God knows who are they sending e-mails to, their mothers? – and I wouldn’t have known this if Anita didn’t tell me herself. It seems that Indonesian people are getting more and more obsessed with their appearance, though there is nothing new there, really.

We talked about how only Asians, especially Indonesians in general, were putting so much effort in keeping up with the way they look, and how they held such pride in it as well. She was telling me about the time when she was in Aberdeen and noticed the same pattern there too, in which there was this one time where a brand new shiny BMW pulled up on the street, and out stepped an Asian twenty-something – quite possibly a student.

Anita was saying to her husband, “they seem to put so much effort to their … What, pride? Appearance?” Then her husband said ”Surface?” which was a spot on answer.

This particular topic struck me in awe because of the absolute truth in it. Indonesians spend hours of their time and energy to put on a special impression to their whole surfaces – the clothes, the hair, the make up, the accessories, the gadgets, the cars and even the places they reside in.

My beau told me about this review he’d read at some magazine on Nokia Communicator – you know, that brick of a phone that weighs a ton and cost around ten million rupiah per unit – apparently Indonesians have soft spots for this particular brand because it sells really well in the country – in fact, very well, which is a contrast to the actual condition of the country having so many crises in everything – from gas, oil, and food to mention a few.

“You know what’s the irony of it? Most of the managers at work also own those Communicator mobiles, but when they are asked to have a teleconference whilst being overseas, they complain about the mobile cost being expensive and that there is no signal and everything. So what’s the point of owning such a flashy, multi-functioned gadget when you’re gonna do fuck all to it?” said himself.

It gets even worse for some people who insist on purchasing luxurious, European cars, and yet when the time comes to fill up the petrol, they complain to no end of how expensive it is and how they’re shedding more money than they should.

Is it an Indonesian habit to own expensive stuff and turn into cheap tight-asses when it comes to taking care of them?

Because the logic is, if you can’t afford to fill up your latest 7-series BMW with Pertamax, buy a cheaper car that uses Premium lead. But if you can afford it all, then stop complaining about it!

The same thing goes to mobile phones; don’t buy a Blackberry if all you can do with it is to make phone calls and send text messages, and then complain about the phone bill skyrocketing to the roof and then opt for cheaper mobile providers instead.

After we bade goodbyes and made promises to have another lunch before she head back to Scotland, I drove home and thought about our lunch. In the smoke-filled air of Jakarta and the scorching afternoon sun, being stuck in a slow-moving traffic that goes in a jerky stop-and-go fashion, I thought about the people of Jakarta being indebted to maintain the lifestyle that they simply cannot afford, as if it is all a big race that everyone must participate.

I don’t know whether it’s just me, but I don’t quite grasp the importance of keeping an impressive appearance and taking care of what’s on the surface. It’s true that being in Indonesia, everyone cannot escape of being judged because of what they look, but what if it goes so far as making people feel uncomfortable with themselves, and for what? To please other people? To make ourselves feel belong and not left out? To make friends? Or to make ourselves feel better?

When I got home, I saw the news on television saying that there had been this massive demonstration at the parliament house and a lot of people who went through Semanggi were stuck in traffic because of it. Thank God that we ended up meeting at Cazbar then!

When I met my beau, I was slinky-hipped and shag-me-hippy (exact weight was 48 kg which is my ideal weight actually), but after being together for sixteen months, I’m now 54 kg.

54!!

I’ve gained 6 kg in sixteen months, and the thought of the scales moving more and more to the right towards the big six oh, was more than I could take.

I’ve been there, and I can tell you this much; it ain’t fun. The realization hit me hard when I witnessed unnecessary amount of fat splurging out of control from my midriff, and now, putting on my favorite pair of jeans alone is an activity almost close to a work-out as it requires so much sweat and struggle!

The heaviest I’ve been was 63 kg, as I’ve told you on my previous post, and that was due to the Australian diet I used to be accustomed to; I lived in a house where the host was doing part-time job as a caterer, so expecting left-overs of baby quiches, mini pizzas, salmon rolls and samosas was a common activity then.

She also made a mean piece of steak, and taught me how to cook it too (easy-peasy; add salt and pepper, cook each sides for 5 minutes). There was also the occasional bacon and eggs brekky, with toasts and fried tomatoes at that. Living with her was heavenly – she was good at making desserts, and my heart used to flutter with warmth whenever she made her top-notch sticky date puddings and freshly baked scones.

Occasionally, I also went out a lot – usually to this darling little Japanese restaurant in the city called Kimurakan, where they served the biggest bento boxes ever, and to Benkei, another tiny Jap resto near campus.

Or to Maccas, if I was broke. I am guilty to say that their quarter-pounder is my favorite and you can’t find that on the menu here in Indonesia.

On top of that, one of my best friend’s family owned a Chinese-Malaysian restaurant called Maple Leaf, and whenever I came to visit, her mum always offered me food. Always. She was like, “Oh, Therry, you look so skinny, ah? You want Curry Laksa? Or fried ice cream with banana fritter? You can take it home; I give it to you now ah?”

And that was the time when I used to share a flat with this Korean guy and his girlfriend – where all the food in the fridge was either a huge tub of kim chi and strange coffee-smelling tea that was actually made of corn – in which my daily diet consisted of: Buy fried rice at the local eatery near campus, eat only half of it, ask for a doggy bag, bring it home and then reheat it for dinner. That, or buying large pack of KFC chicken and kept them in the fridge for a whole week’s dinner – to be eaten with rice and chili sauce, of course. Cheap and might I add, very unhealthy.

Amazingly enough, back then I was effortlessly skinny. I wasn’t even worrying about my weight. All I knew was that I was always the same weight, I had a lot of essays and assignments to do and food was just at the bottom of my priority, which was why I always had the drowned, exhausted look then. Come to think of it, I think it was the reason why my friend’s mum was quite fond of me – she always fed me plenty and whenever I stayed over at their house I got sustenance so easily, she made sure I came back home bringing lots and lost of takeaway containers full of Chinese food.

And now, whilst I am constantly on the scales keeping watch of my weight, I feel as if nothing is changing, even though I’ve reduced my meals into smaller portions and drinking cups after cups of Mustika Ratu slimming tea, on top of the usual bitter green tea. I’m actually making an effort to lose weight.

I know I’ve not been good with my diet. I actually maintain my weight with Herbalife products, since all my family consumes them too, but I’ve been less disciplined lately.

Ok, I’ve not been very discipline at all.

So now that I’m trying to get back into shape, and keeping my calorie intakes low (as in replacing my brekky and dinner with protein shakes), I’m down to 52 kg.

I’ve got 4 kg to go. Wish me luck – I really want my sexy back!