[oh no, not again]

Yes, again, my friends. Because I have had enough.
Before my dinner tonight, I don't remember the last time I ate a vegetable, unless we're counting the sun-dried tomatoes on my margherita pizza, or the seaweed wrapped around my bulgogi kimbap. Before my dinner tonight, I honestly don't remember the last time I truly cooked something. Not like, warmed it up, boiled it, or scooped it out of the rice cooker. But really cooked something. Tonight I did that. And it felt good.

I was going to the gym. How could you forget my Korean Aerobics Class Fiasco? But I had only signed up for a month. And that month is gone. Also, I got lazy. And I got cable. I am a firm believer in this equation: hours of tv watched per day = pounds gained per week. FOR REAL.

I ordered jeans last week. Because both pairs of my jeans have holes in the crotch, where my thighs are having their constant trysts. And I ordered from a Korean site, yes. But we ordered the sizes that matched my current jeans, both pairs which I bought here in Korea (miracle of miracles, I know.) They came. They were too small. I cried, but only for a minute. Sizes are wack in this country anyway. Who measures themselves in centimeters, really? That just makes your numbers huge! Anyway, I sent them back and exchanged them for the biggest size in both pairs. I got them tonight. One of them is a long way from fitting. But the second pair, they button. I wouldn't dare sit in them for fear that all my organs would protest and go on strike the minute they were squeezed that tight, but I buttoned those suckers. And the fat that buckled up and bulged over the waist of them was HORRID. OH MY GOD. I'm an old person. I'm an old, fat person! How did this happen?

Oh wait. I know. It's all the crap I've been eating. For the past month, I haven't paid attention to what I've been eating. I've just been shoving it in. And also, it's all the TV I've been watching. Because watching TV is so easy. So much easier than blogging. So much easier than emailing friends. So much easier than making lesson plans. Or thinking. Or breathing. Well, maybe it's on par with breathing. Maybe.

So, it's my fault. And yes, I'm deriding myself and metaphorically punching myself in my stupid face. But. There is hope, ladies and gentlemen. Because 7 months ago, this was my body:

Suck on that, belly fat! I know you were planning this hostile takeover and finally protruding further than the boobs, but you will be thwarted! You shall be dominated and then, exterminated. Also, thighs and butt, you better watch yourself. Because once The Belly is eradicated (yes again, shut up), you're next in line. I have my almost-fitting pair of jeans hanging on the wall in my room, along with a medium size shirt that my boobs and back fat used to fit into. I will fit into them again. I'm giving myself two months, y'all. Two months of mindful eating, intense gym visits, and hard work. I have a goal. I have an achievable-I-just-looked-like-this-less-than-a-year-ago goal. And I'm so tired of looking back at our honeymoon pictures and being jealous of  myself. I'm getting a car on Saturday: no excuse to not go to the gym; no excuse to not go shopping for fresh veggies because I have a way to transport them; no excuse to sit at home on my butt. Basically, I'm just preemptively removing all excuses out from under my feet.

Also, pray for me. A new Dunkin' Donuts just opened across from work.

What the Crap Wednesday: Early Thursday A.M. Edition

I know what you're all thinking.

"What the Crap? Where's ChubbO Chubbington? And what is this girl's hang up with alliteration?"

NO! Don't go!! You're in the right place. We're just as ChubbO as we used to be. In fact, I ate 5 little donut holes from Dunkin' Donuts today. You know why? To celebrate the fact that I lost about 4 pounds this week. Which is awesome. Because now I feel much better. And I fit in my clothes. So that's that.

But yes, I finally revamped the old blog. I hope you guys like it, and I sure hope you weren't reading it while all the changing was going on because it was wacky there for a while. I think I've got everything close to how I'd like it to be, only it's 2 in the morning and everything is blurry! So, I think I'll come back tomorrow and tweak a few more things.

Let me know what you think! Any suggestions or observations are welcome. All credit for the header and my new picture go to the HubbO. He's pretty awesome.

I just stayed up way past my bedtime. Working on my blog. What the crap?

If I Were President

Akin to the last supper, sacred and sacrificial. The HubbO took this picture sometime before Christmas when I swore I wouldn't eat another donut until after our wedding. So, Krispy Kreme run after we say our vows? You bet. 

You can get your own here. Also, thanks to the lovely Ashley, who linked me to this Obamicon goodness, supported by Paste Magazine. Paste Magazine, I miss you and your mix cds.

What the Crap Wednesday (Christmas Eve Edition)

So, it's Wednesday, the day before Christmas, and I'd just like to say...
What the crap?
Because I'm working today, like the rest of the dutiful Koreans who labor on through the holidays, but unlike all those super-efficient and disciplined Koreans, I have nothing to do. My principal told me yesterday, "So, you know that tomorrow is a play day?"
"A play day? Well, now I know."
"There's no English class."
"No English class? So we don't have to come in?" (We already knew the part-time teacher had the day off).
"No, you have to come here."
"What should I do?"
"You can just do what you want."
"Riiiiiiiiight." I tried to keep the do you realize what an idiot you are? look off my face, but I'm not quite sure how successful that was.
So, I'm here. At school. Have no class. Did some cartwheels in the gym to entertain my kids. Felt the disdain of the Korean teachers and their game planning closing in around me, so I have shoved off to the office to, well, write you a blog.
Let's reiterate: At school. On Christmas Eve. No class. Not wanted.
What. The. Crap.

Also, I've done one of my disappearing acts again, although this time it was not some ploy for staging yet another come back, because they are oh-so-popular here at the O of Chub. Rather, I'm writing outside my blog at the moment, working on a few things, and I'm very happy to be doing so because I thought I was dead, but turns out, I'm not. But seriously, what about last week when I posted everyday? What the crap? I just churned out the love for you, on a daily basis. Thought about you on the train and what I wanted to tell you everyday. Thought about you while sipping my caramel macchiato and munching my donuts (even though I swore I wouldn't have any more until after wedding. What the crap was I thinking?). Wait... what was the point of this paragraph?

Also, did I mention that I'm at school today? The whole day? With nothing to do? No responsibilities whatsoever. Oh? I said that already? Right.

It really doesn't feel like Christmas at all. I kind of found myself unprepared this morning when I woke up. I just sort of disconnected from Christmas this year, despite all my Christmas song listening and all my Grinch- and Elf-watching and hot choco-drinking. I miss the family and because I'm sort of the Watchman of Tradition, making sure Mom doesn't shirk on her Santa duty or kill herself trying to get the lights on the tree the right way or forget to bake those pecans I like so much, I feel like things are slipping away a bit. And I know that Kenny and I need to make our own Christmas traditions, but our first Christmas was spent in Israel, the second across the world from each other, and this one is sort of weird all around. (And can you really top Bethlehem on Christmas Eve? I think not.)
So, in honor of my non-Christmasy feelings and my longing to be at home to sort of safe guard Christmas (or my idea of it) , watch this video. I make a Christmas mix every year, and this song always gets put on there.

It's Christmas Eve and I feel like it's just another anonymous day I must wait through in order to get to the next one. What the crap?

How to Slack Off

Feast your eyes upon Polar Bear Girl actively engaged in Seoul Metro transit. (Or, a really easy way to get out of writing a post, but still looking great because I've posted everyday this week so far. Plus, it's my 101st post for the BlogO, and I figured instead of throwing the list of 101 Things You Probably Could Have Guessed But Don't Care Anything About up here like most of the cool kids do, I'll just post 101 pictures of myself. Or however many I feel like before I get bored with it all.)

Exhibit A: Serious Bear. Bringing serious joy to fellow commuters. 

Exhibit B: Secret Bear. Ready to spill the beans if offered appropriate number of donuts. 

Exhibit C: We're not real sure. 

Exhibit D: Wait... what the crap?

Exhibit E: Surprised Bear. 

Exhibit F: Tell It To You Straight Bear. Not related to Korean Bears in any way. 

Gratuitous Exhibit: Donut=Pure ChubbO Ecstasy. 

Yep! There are coffee beans on my chocolate donut. Doesn't get any better than that. 

Say Kimchi!

Kenny and I took some of our wedding/future fund when we visited the States, used the rocking exchange rate to maximize our won and bought a freaking awesome camera. I don't know exactly what it is (I'm not the camera expert by any means) but it's a Canon EOS something. The names here are not the same in the States, so even if I knew exactly what model and number and all that our camera was, it wouldn't really matter to all the exposaroonies out there. I heard my sister's wedding photographer say it was probably the Rebel XSI. But who knows. I'll get all that info and add it here later for the hundreds of photographers who live in daily anticipation of my photo posting. Riiiiight. So, we got the camera. And we made sure to purchase a wide-view lens as well, because what will the Himalayas be without a wide-angle?

And. It. Is. Awesome. Thought I'd share the proof with you guys! 

This is one of my favorite pictures, pretty much ever. This was taken at Kenny's house and that's my mother-in-law! Isn't she beautiful?  

Wide-view lens, Seoul Metro station, waiting on Hein to take our second round of engagement photos in a small cafe. 

The dreaded transfer from Line 2 to Line 8. Not bad on the weekends, of course. But picture this entire hall packed from wall to wall with commuters. Traffic jam!

And there's proof of that donut I ate! Yep, I'm at Krispy Kreme. And let me tell you, it's hard to pass up Krispy Kreme. You know how you can stop at the ones in the States when the "Hot Now" sign is on and get a fresh donut? Well, in Korea, the "Hot Now" donuts are handed out free of charge while you stand in line to put in your order. So, you can get free donuts and then decide you don't want anything else and move on. This is Kenny's strategy and it seems that enough people want other kinds of donuts and coffee that it's profitable for the Krispy Kreme to hand out free hot, fresh donuts. It's awesome. I had my free donut eaten before I pointed to the Mocha chocolate donut on my plate (topped with choco-covered coffee beans! Yes!) and asked for an Iced Caramel Macchiato, my caffeine drug of choice. 

Of course, you can tell who hogs the camera. But I really don't mind. He's trying to teach me a bunch of stuff and I'm really excited to learn. But I still have a tendency to just point and click! Right now, I'm learning how to focus or unfocus on certain objects in a frame. It's fun and I'm so glad we'll have a great way to document our could-go-disaster-or-triumph honeymoon! 

(Oh, Honeymoon Update: We're skipping Tibet altogether and this makes our heads hang low, letting our chin get to know our chests a bit better. But the permits we have to have to get in and the group tours we'd have to take to get them are a little pricey for our taste and we couldn't get the train from Beijing to Llasa going in the right direction. So we're heading straight for Nepal and the Annapurna circuit. Which will freeze all our body parts and we'll probably die. But whatever. We'll have damn good pictures documenting our demise! After Nepal we'll spend a few months in India, volunteering at Mother Teresa's house, visiting a few missionaries that Kenny knows through his father's work, and generally honeymooning in our hut on a beach. Oh, and wearing saris! And eating curry! Woot.)

On another note completely unrelated to this post, which is something I know you regularly thirst for, I am MAKING myself meet a bunch of people tonight in Korea. A bunch of other expats who write incredible blogs. I can't read all their blogs too regularly, because it starts to depress me. Ah, writers. How petty and jealous we can be! But anyway, the point is that I am making an effort to socialize outside the fiance. He may be coming (probably not) but I've sworn myself to participation no matter what. And I totally had a dream about Roboseyo last night. A very weird, awesome, dream in which he owned a huge boat that had two Olympic size swimming pools and allowed me to wander onto it whenever I pleased and he hosted an engagement part for Kenny and me there. It was totally strange and I wore my wedding dress into the pool to thank everyone for coming. And then I was self-conscious because I wasn't wearing a bra underneath my dress. And there were puppies there. And a lot of people were there: Ruthie Martin Kolb (new mommy in real life), Jennifer Wilson McCaman (whose dad took us to her house that was down the street from the boat), and the guy from ZenKimchi was there, another blog I read. Isn't that strange? I guess it's a sign I should definitely go and meet these folks if I'm already dreaming about them! And sometimes, Roboseyo turned into Doogie Howser and that was awesome. 

Digression #53: If you get a chance to go see the British film Happy Go Lucky, do so. But do not under any circumstances get the jumbo caramel popcorn and devour it all while only sharing small handfuls with your almost-husband after having had four spoonfuls of awful school bipbimbap and a piece of foul kimchi for lunch. Just see the film and enjoy a regular size popcorn and make sure you share. A lot. 

I'm Alive

Just to let my fantastic, wonderful, mind-blowingly kind and encouraging readers know that I am climbing out of the hole. I had a donut yesterday, and as everyone knows, donuts put the ChubbO on the fast track to recovery. Because seriously, how can you be depressed while holding onto a scrumptiously chocolate covered morsel as delicious and euphoria-inducing as a donut. 

Anyway, just to let you know I'm around. And that I love you guys. You're totally tied with the donut. And that's like, some serious love. 

It's Sermon Sunday

In Revelation 3:20 it says:

Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with Me.

Now that's what I'm talking about! Let the man in and what does he suggest? He says let's eat together. Now that's my kind of religion. I bet Jesus would have loved donuts. 

Don't Panic... The Rage is Still Around

Oh no, don't refresh. You're in the right place. Yep, it's me, DB, from Rage in the A.M. You know how last post I was talking about taking this blog in a new direction? About not hemming myself in on all sides by anger-ridden rants and head-against-the-wall frustration trying to understand this country, culture, and people? Well, welcome to the new, improved, and still raging, blog.

However, I wanted to free myself up to write about a few more topics without feeling guilty because you dear readers would still be expecting The Rage, and maybe you would wonder why my blog was even called Rage in the A.M. if it wasn't ragey. (Somebody call Websters. Ragey, adjective, used to describe nouns that are filled with, surrounded by, or beat to death with rage.) So I thought I'd collect all the pictures I had so far of me stuffing my face with something and go with the whole Chubbo Chubbington theme, since ChubbO is definitely a theme here keeping pace with my internal firestorms. Heck, I have dreams about donuts. (And someone found my blog this week by googling "dreaming about donuts." How appropriate!) And I feel that being a ChubbO is not confined to your body weight. It's a lifestyle. It's about consuming what life offers you with a smile and shoving it Korean style (which means spoonful, and I mean SPOON IS FULL) into your face. Enjoying the company of those around you, enjoying the feeling of having a full belly, and enjoying the immensity of blessings heaped upon you. So, being a ChubbO is not about being overweight, or having a weenie wheel around your waist, or dreaming about donuts (although this is definitely a qualifying factor). It's not about lusting over food commercials (although this is perfectly acceptable behavior) or clapping your hands and jumping up and down when someone mentions ice cream. No, wait, I take that back. ChubbO is ALL about clapping your hands and jumping up and down when someone mentions ice cream. Anyhow, you get the idea. And if you don't, leave your questions in the comments and I shall dutifully reply. Perhaps I should come up with a ChubbO ManifestO. All that to say, welcome to the new, improved, but still kind of the same blog. 

And I'm making some changes in my life dearest readers, whose comments cause me to lie on my bed in raptures, staring out at the blue Seoul afternoon sky and thanking the Provider of All Good Things for sending these kind, wonderful, delight-inducing creatures to read my bumblings, rumblings, and mumblings. (I'm re-reading some Jack Kerouac. Can you tell?) I want to live a simple, humble, and open life. And The Rage seems to be a hindrance. Although it will still be around and I'm sure you'll still get your healthy dose, it doesn't help me to be thankful, to feel blessed, to show kindness and love toward a generous people who have taken me into their country and done nothing but overpay me and completely ignore my own petty personal boundaries. When I stop to think about what's important to me, ending all the miseries of Metro Purgatory is just not high on the list. 

I read a beautiful blog here the other day (read everything she's written, it's beautiful), at the suggestion of this guy, and I found that it was exactly what I had been looking for. Instead of walking around all day asking myself how I can get the things I want, how I can make things easier for myself, how I can avoid feeling obligated to others, I want to ask how I can love, how I can be kind, how I can give others what they want, how I can make things easier for others. So many Koreans (and Americans, and humans, essentially) are running all the time. At every moment, they are in a hurry to be faster, to be better, to be first in line, to earn the money, to get the thing that will make them happy. And they are in such a hurry to do these things that they run over each other, push each other, park their cars illegally, work until all hours without being kind to their bodies or their families. If I can show just one person, just one, how to slow down a bit, how to see what matters, how to be persistent in kindness or happiness or laughter, then I feel my purpose will be fulfilled. Because I've been floundering here in the Land of Morning Calm. (And it's no longer calm in the mornings. The streets are always alive, no matter the hour.) I've been wondering what it is I actually want to achieve in this year of having a job I don't really care for and am not entirely qualified for; this year of listening to strange sounds and trying to contort my mouth into wonderful shapes that make these sounds; this year of discovering how much I have to learn from my husband-to-be; this year of searching for my self-discipline, for my sense of responsibility; this year of no sweet tea, no grits and biscuits, no sweet tea, and no sweet tea. 

And I have decided what I want to achieve: 

I want to love my kids in a way that shows them they don't have to speak English or read English or be the fastest AT ANYTHING to be special and of worth.

I want to learn enough Korean to speak to Keun Ha's grandmother and tell her how much I appreciate her support and her fierce love for her family. 

I want to treat my body with respect and kindness. I want my body to be part of the gift I give my husband, something I can be proud of and give with confidence. (He would take it like it is now. He even said to me the other day, "Danielle, don't lose The Belly, please. It won't be the same." See? An amazing man. Go get your own Korean, stop coveting mine! Ha.)

I want to show my parents and my sister that I wouldn't be who I am or going where I'm going without their support and their love. 

I want to learn to give my time to others willingly, to heal broken things and people, to serve others because I have had enough time to myself.

I want to learn to cook Korean food so my husband can have a happy belly some of the time. 

I want to write, write, rewrite, and write. I want to stop making excuses and write. 

I want to read, everything and anything. 

I want to find enough discipline to get up earlier than I have to, to make time to pray and think and be deliberate about my day, about my actions.

And most of all, I want to start a new life with my husband, conquering mountains, sitting with monks, and blessing the earth. 

Oh, and I wanna eat a buncha good food. (In my best Southern twang.)

Readers, whom I have grown to cherish and look forward to hearing from like I look forward to seeing puppies on the street that will actually let me pet them and speak to them as if they could understand me, this is my 50th post. Wouldn't it be so cool if I got 50 comments? And can I just shout out to The Korean, who left a comment on my last post, what an honor! Seriously. I just got finished with my dance for you, and it included a lot of graceful bowing followed by lavish jumps and twirls and a few booty shakes. I also want to thank Two Left Feet, Sarah, Meghan, Chester Copperpot, Tariq, Anonymous, Bailey, Quirky, and Beloved for leaving kind words for me on my last post. And love to anyone who has ever left me a comment! I believe I am amassing the best readers on the Internets. 

And for all of you who scrolled down to see if there was an engagement story stuck in here anywhere, sorry to disappoint. I'm waiting to tell you the real deal because I have something special to give you. A gift. But it's not ready yet. So be patient! I'll tell you all about it. But not in that "Hi, my blog has turned into a step-by-step account of my wedding plans and I'm so happy and you're still single hahahahahahah blah blah make you want to rip your eyes out I'm so cheerful and in love" kind of blogs. Don't worry. 

What is the most loving thing for me to do now, after I hit Publish Post?

I believe it would be to write a long response to the beautiful letter I received in the mail from my good friend Nick, who also reads this blog and leaves priceless comments here often. What's the most loving thing for you to do now?

x0x0ChubbO

The Dream

I had a dream two nights ago about a donut. I'm not kidding. I wish I was. It was a beautiful bavarian cream filled donut with chocolate icing (the thick gooey kind that always gives me away, clinging to the corners of my mouth and my chin and upper lip like a big bright neon sign that screams "I JUST ATE SOME CHOCOLATE!") with sprinkles. Yeah, I don't usually get the ones with the sprinkles, but I'm apparently extravagant when it comes to dreaming. And do you know what? I had taken such good care of my precious donut, but had to step away for a moment and when I returned someone had taken my donut. RAGE ENSUED! I remember specifically in my dream this guy (Sexy David from Downstairs, Exeter era) telling me that he was going to leave and go somewhere else if I didn't stop yelling. For goodness sake it was just a donut. And this other guy (flashback from college, Tyson Hays anyone?) had the audacity to offer me lesser, other donuts to try to appease my anger and hurt. I was insulted at his insistence that a donut was a donut, because ladies and gents, this was no ordinary donut I had been saving for the perfect moment. It was the perfect donut. And someone took it. I was bereft.

Then I woke up. How much more Chubbo can you get, I ask you? Even in my sleep, I'm thinking about donuts. Ridiculous.

P.S. I have not forgotten that I promised to tell you about my hospital stay. It is in the works. Also forthcoming: a post on the traditional Korean wedding Keun Ha and I recently attended. And more Contemplation. (Yeah, sometimes I forget I actually quietly contemplate. I'm so often filled with the burning fires of rage. But I do think. And so, Contemplation #2 is on its way.)

P.P.S. I love comments. I love comments more than I love donuts, if you can believe it. If I have a dream about the euphoric state that comments put me in, will you leave more comments?? Oh, I know you're out there. I have a few tracking devices on you- I'm all FBI-violate-your-privacy-in-the-name-of-comment-seeking. You can't hide; but you can comment!

The Healing Power of Dunkin' Donuts

Wednesday was a holiday here in Korea. It was an election day (local elections) and most people were off work in order to have time to vote because business hours in this country are from the time you wake up until you get your work done. So Keun Ha and I headed over to the Coex Mall to spend some of my first paycheck on good food and maybe a few t-shirts I could wear to work. I need t-shirts because when I packed my bags I was under the impression that it was really, really cold here. And in the mornings, it’s a bit chilly. But my commute is so hot and stuffy, that it’s ridiculous to wear anything other than a t-shirt and light jacket. And I also produce a fair amount of perspiration at school what with all the dancing, singing, and yelling at my kids. So t-shirts are in order. (I don’t know what I thought I would do when the weather turned warm. I seriously only packed 3 t-shirts. What was I thinking? Ah, the beauty of packing the day before…)

Anyhow, I went to the mall with high hopes of coming home with some ultra-stylish and cool Korean t-shirts. However, when we actually started looking at clothes, all I could find were smalls and a few mediums here and there. I found a t-shirt I really liked and Keun Ha asked the saleswoman if they had any other sizes and she replied, “We don’t sell larges.” Which holds true for the entire mall. However, the style right this moment is a baggier top with layers and weird graphics. So, I refuse to be thrown into the pit of despair by my not being a tiny Korean doll. I make up my mind that I will try on Mediums! I look at the Mediums. I hold them up to me and attempt to stretch them across my huge boobs. Most of them will not make it. Even if I could fit The Belly in the shirt, The Boobs would not find a home there. But I finally get the idea that I could get away with a zip-up type shirt. I find this short-sleeved incredibly thin and light grey sweater top. It is long and has cute pockets in the front and a hood. Totally my style. Will go over any t-shirt because I don’t have an issue with ‘matching’ or ‘coordinating’. Lucky me! I try it on. I don’t zip it because it’s not really the kind of thing that should be zipped. It fits me. Keun Ha says I look “so cool.” So I buy it. And then I rejoice. I BOUGHT A MEDIUM!

I don’t remember the last time I bought anything in a medium. I don’t even order my Starbucks in medium! I go Venti all the way (which definitely explains the lack of mediums elsewhere!). So I was excited. I had bright hopes for my future here. We had looked at a gym earlier before heading to the mall and I could see myself running and working out and buying lots of mediums that don’t have to zip up. I had images of my ultimate self— the size 6 I was in high school— walking down the street in an “outfit” rather than the pants I wore yesterday and the only shirt I could find that didn’t smell like my armpits. Yes, a bright and cheery future was in the works.

So we ate some lunch and then headed back out into the big world of style possibilities that had just opened up to me. We stopped in another store and I pick out yet another medium (this time that doesn’t zip- I was becoming more bold. I mean, what could it hurt to just try it on?) and Keun Ha picked out something to try on as well. We head back to the dressing rooms. I open the door and hang my shirt on the hook. There is a small platform that you step up on, but first you must take off your shoes (of course, we ARE living in Korea). I don’t realize this and Keun Ha says, “Oh, take off your shoes.” So I grab hold of the doorposts and begin to slip my shoes off and he starts to close the door.

“STOP!” I scared him I screamed so loud. I pushed the door open, pulled my thumb back from where it had been trapped between the door and the doorframe, pushed Keun Ha out of the way and then slammed the door shut. I fell to my knees and held my thumb and tried really hard not to cry. But I cried anyway. Keun Ha opened the door and knelt down beside me. By this time, my thumb had begun to bleed, blood flowing out from beneath the cuticle, circling around the skin on my knuckle that had been peeled back. I watched as my thumb grew a size and a half and turned purple. It made me feel sick. I started to cry even harder. Not only was I embarrassed because I was crying in the floor of a fitting room in a foreign country, but now I thought I was going to throw up in said fitting room and who knew how that would play out. Keun Ha ran to get a bandaid and came back in a few minutes with Hydrogen Peroxide, which made me cry even more!

So I finally recover a bit, start taking some deep breaths, and Keun Ha says, “So, you wanna try on your shirt?” He’s so cute. And I say, “Why not?” So I step back into the dressing room to try on the shirt. It fits okay. But it’s a little bit snug in the back-fat area, so I decide it’s not the one for me. I now have a killer headache from all the trying not to cry and then the crying and my thumb is also throbbing with my pulse. I’m not feeling so well. We find a pharmacy and buy some ibuprofen. We find a café and buy some juice and coffee. I’m okay. I’m not dying. But I’m not really happy either. My mood has been dialed down from “I’m so excited” to “well, I’m here.” We finish the juice and the coffee and I try not to be too depressing, because it’s our first holiday together.

So we’re walking out of the mall and passing all these shops and suddenly I stop and say, “I think I need some chocolate.” So Keun Ha promptly wheels me around and propels me towards the nearest Dunkin’ Donuts. “Will this make you happy?” I purchase my chocolate-covered, crème-filled donut. We are walking out of the Dunkin’ Donuts and Keun Ha says to me, “Wow. You’re so much happier now. It makes me want to buy you a donut store.”

My boyfriend wants to buy me a donut store so I can be happy. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is all you need to know to fully understand my love relationship with food. And why I will probably never be able to shop in Korea.

P.S. My thumb has healed nicely.