The Sad Ping Pong Queen Vol 10

Hi all!

As usual, the disclaimer: if you have been reading the series, thanks again. if you have arrived by accident, after a long while, or just passing through, pls click on the right side panel for the start of this series (vol 2 will connect you to vol 1, vol 6 will connect you to all the previous vol on this series). Very sorry about this, but we are in the mid-end of a running series, so there's a lot of character buildup and plot twist, so pls take some time to update from the start. :) Thanks!


It's highly impossible for me to even stick around on anything for so long, so having the PPQ series reach its 10th episode is a wonder in itself to behold, not just its contents.

so while everyone has been faithfully updating on the series, i thank you all. Hope it has been as exciting to read as it is to write.

Without further ado, here's the latest installment.


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'The weighing machine is spoilt!' came the plaintive wail as i walked over. It was a Wednesday Evening and the office gym was packed with office people trying to get fit. Well, some will walk leisurely and pose in front of the mirror after every pump of the iron, while some, instead on concentrating on their breathing, are furtively looking around the room for someone 'to lend a hand to', it takes all sorts to visit the gym. PPQ, for all her flights of fancy, religiously uses the gym really to get fit. I mean, I think so. Well, what i really think, i probably can't write down or ppl will say I'm biased.


In any case, today is to answer the OTHER question that has not been posted in the previous entry, mainly because our subject wasn't PPQ last time. It's to disclose the 5kg-bag-of-rice-overestimate to our darling innocent. Actually, this episode almost didn't happen. After i had given PPQ the challenge and the hug (which I've been bathing 5 times a day to wash off the imprint unsuccessfully), in typical AKK fashion, I've gotten lazy and tired again. You see, the immediate gratification of emotional uncertainty i bestowed on her had been served, resulting in a sudden accumulation of gym 'hurghh!!!' (pumping grunts) per week, so after the 3rd day seeing her enter the office looking grey-eyed and 'ouching' her way tenderly whenever she moved from her seat, I had naturally felt guilty enough to not go through with the final insult to injure her equally tender emotional status by showing her I wasn't that heavy to begin with.


So this current episode exists because after the Bacardi moment, a close fren of mine, who had been following my series diligently, almost collapsed in agitation when I merely hinted that I was going to be nice about the whole weight issue. After enduring a half-hour of scolding, first on my laziness, then on PPQ's lousy-shame-to-all-women tirade, said fren finally cajoled me by saying that she is much too interested in what PPQ's reaction would be than to worry about the morality of sniggering at other people's weaknesses.


Hence I relented and played out the whole scene with artistic aplomb.


Never let it be said that AKK is a bad fren. The glee that came with it is moot.


Back to the scene of the crime. PPQ's wail carried like a whale's ultrasound. It was too soft and high to be detected in normal-day communication, but its persistent tinny texture grates on the chalkboard of your nerves so much that while you probably missed the dialogue, you can easily detect the buzzing quality fom across the length of the room.


For my part, I had also diligently took up exercising again. It's true that motivation can drive a person to do great things, but motivation from PPQ drove me up the wall. Never had I felt so much energy at the prospect of starting the exercise regime once more. Perhaps anyone would be able to throw off that mantle of disgust, but every single step I pounded onto the treadmill, a litany of 'I want to be smaller than PPQ' rolled off like a tape recorder.


So by the time Wednesday came around (so good I was, I gave her 2 weeks), I was feeling great and happier than ever. seeing her walking over to the scale made my heart leap in joy (and shudder at my fren's chiding). Now's the time.


'What is?' I chirped from behind her. I had been running, I'm sure she smelt me first. PPQ did an impressive pirouette in horror. i must admit that ever since she started irking me, every single action of hers looked over-done and cutesy. She's the equivalent of a wet market Auntie in Ah Lian get-up with full make-up. OK, so I'm getting personal, sue me. Never tarry with a woman's weight.


'Oh Akk,' she breathed, chest heaving in affront. 'I think the scale is spoilt. It's showing the wrong numbers.'


I looked at the electronic scale. It was patiently registering '0' while waiting for a customer.


'I don't see how, it's balanced.' I pointed out.


'I'll show you.' and she stood on it. The electronic numbers jumped to 60kg.


'See?' she exclaimed. 'It's spoilt! a week ago, it showed me 58kg! There must be something wrong. I worked out quite a lot, should have gone down again this week.' Her voice was pitching higher, an indication her Majesty is getting upset.


'I really am 58kg!' As if I didn't believe her. 'Why don't you try it and tell me if it's showing a few kgs heavier. If I remember, you're 57kg, right?'


She remembers! Why am I not surprised?


I shrugged and stood on the scale. Unlike PPQ, I kept all my gear on, shoes, towel and handphone. The numbers whirred and settled, to my delight, on 50kg.


I heard a gasp behind me and had to keep a straight face. It was that or start sniggering. The heavens had suddenly decided to rain lavishly on PPQ's parade. Not only was I a rice-bag lighter, according to the scale, I had gone down another 2. Furthermore, she had apparently gained some since last week.


I turned around. What was on her face was indescribable, like art is sometimes indescribable. Closest I could get? Possibly art by Edvard Munch.

Note the twist of the hips.




The actress in me raised to the occasion. Somehow seeing her overly bewildered look had made me slightly pissed too. What? Like I really don't look my weight at all? Geez....I forced a surprised look that mirrored hers and used the same breathless voice she used on me. If she had been less shocked, she would surely recognise the caricature.


'Oh My GOD!!! I'm so light? It can't be! OH my GOODNESS!' I gushed, pretending to be amazed. Then the metaphoric knife stab. 'Man, I think you are right! The scale doesn't seem very accurate!' I frowned concernedly at her horrific expression.


'We need to tell the trainer.' I continued. 'People can't go around imagining they are heavier or lighter than they should be.' And promptly I left the scene and made a fruitless trip to the staff room and made them fruitlessly switch the machine on and off using, of all things, PPQ as their weighing gauge.


I slipped away to bathe when PPQ got all angry trying to explain away to the staff why she should be 58kg, not 60kg, do you understand me? I did not put on any weight! the scale is still spoilt! And she lost 7kg, how is that possible, your scale is so unreliable!


While things couldn't have ended better in such a cinematic way, I was feeling slightly out-of-sorts the rest of the day. I supposed it's the guilt. I'm not that nice a person, but feeding people their own medicine has made me sick, because some people's medicine are really hard to swallow, even for themselves. While PPQ is probably suffering from the episode, she'll no doubt have learnt at least one thing she should never do. Comparing with others. If I were in her shoes, I'll probably never talk about my weight again and instead quietly lose all my kgs until I can finally fit that dream dress I bought to motivate myself, then go to work in triumph.



So for the next day, Jill and another close colleague, Keisha, after chortling delightfully at my summarised account, began to note a slight droop in my smile, so affected was I. Uncertain of my feelings (probably PMS) and knowing that I was being childish for cranking PPQ up, I kept to myself at the workplace. The self-imposed punishment ended abruptly on day 2 when Jill and Keisha yanked me out from my lab and plonked a bottle of Bacardi raspberry (yay!) unceremoniously on my lap in an undisclosed location (meant for slacking...SSShhhh...).


Then Keisha, the tall Amazon, who can easily fell me with a punch, sat across me in a serious manner and began her story.


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Keisha was a strapping tall lady with a very well-proportionate figure. And because of her height, she'll never be described as slim or small. She had wide shoulders that would make any model green with envy but meant she only wore size L clothes in the Asian context. To put it as accurately as possible, Keisha is eye-catching because of her height, straight shoulders and toned figure in the local sense. She had that kind of figure most men would look twice in admiration and women to look twice in awe, and not always positively. The word 'petite' will be applied to her only in a Caucasian community. What I am trying to say is: She neither fat nor consumptive. She is just right for her frame, but insipid stoopid Asian women will call her a Giant or simply Large.


And thus, the camera reverses and pans to a scene in the pantry a few months ago before all the hoo-haa started. It arrows in on one such stoopid, insipid woman, who was clueless that she'll be arguing with the weighing scale come the future. If she had known, she might not be snacking so happily on corn chips then.


The issuing conversation occurred when another colleague entered the pantry.


'These corn chips are great! You want some?'


'Oh no! No nachos for me! They just go directly to my hips. I like them so much that once I start, I cannot stop, confirm will turn into an elephant!' joked the slim colleague.


'Nonsense!' exclaimed PPQ, who couldn't stop eating the chips. 'If you are an elephant, I must be a dinosaur.'


On cue, Keisha entered the pantry to see both gals laughing. She smiled and asks, 'What's so funny?'


A sudden burst of more laughter from PPQ, who was clutching her stomach from an inner joke and then...


'Oh wait! If I'm a dinosaur, then what is Keisha?!'




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Scene changes back to the present on a half-drunk AKK, a steadily drinking Jill and a slightly doused Keisha at the slacker's corner.


'What indeed!' Keisha huffed, waving her Heineken furiously.


Then she turned on me, who was hooting at her predicament.



'What did you say? What did you say?'



'What can I say, right? Treat the whole thing like a joke lah! Laugh along and say 'must be bigger than dinosaur lor!''


'Aiyo! So lame!'


'I cannot think of anything bigger than a dinosaur what!'


I hooted again. It's true! I myself couldn't think of a bigger animal than a dinosaur.



'Godzilla?' Piped Jill.


'You think I never considered meh? But Godzilla and Dinosaur both same size!Cannot!!' wailed Keisha in mock despair.


'Muahahhaha....' we roared in our chairs.



We laughed ourselves silly till we had no more strength, then packed up the room, removed all evidence of alcoholic involvement and went back to work with clorets in our mouths. I had regained my balance and had forgiven myself. Eating your own mdedicine might be bitter, but dishing it will make you ill.



This episode is dedicated, although they would never know, to Jill, for that slight on singlehood, and to Keisha, the Whale (we finally found one bigger), for that slight on her Amazonite frame.


Thanks for the timely intervention.




OUT!


AKK