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  • Agi Tiara Pranoto

    Agi Tiara Pranoto

    Seorang Blogger Indonesia yang berdomisili di Yogyakarta. Selain menulis, dia juga sangat hobi main PUBG Mobile. Cita-citanya adalah mendapatkan passive income sehingga tidak perlu bekerja di kantor, apa daya selama cita-cita itu belum tercapai, dia harus menikmati hari-harinya sebagai manajer sebuah penginapan syariah dan content manager sebuah clothing line

    If there's one thing I'm pretty sure I hate more than anything, It's ironing my clothes. Truth to be told I was so comfortable on having the clothes ironed by our live-in maids for the 16 years I spent on my parents house, and the rest usually were done by the 'pay-per-kilograms laundry' which were very cheap and can easily be found anywhere in Indonesia. With all due respect but the cost for ironing a kilogram of clothes usually goes around Rp. 2000-4000 (around 2 cents-5 cents per kilogram!) and my time is the most valuable treasure I have, since, you know, I go to college and I'm lazy, so paying around Rp. 5000 to Rp. 12.000 (from 5 cents to USD 1) I can have all my clothes perfectly ironed and pressed and folded.

    After living alone, my mom kind of paying for an in-house maid to take care all my needs, including ironing the clothes, which at first I boldly refuse but I can't anymore since my mom loves to be in charge of everything (yes, now we know where my traits came from) including my very single and plain household life. So, yes, I'm spoiled and rotten when it comes to ironing my own clothes. And even when our maid is on the leave, I will just simply sort my clothes, throwing it into the washing machine, drying them, and leave a pile of dry, clean, and wrinkled clothes on a laundry basket until our maid came back.

    image are taken from here


    These kind of things changes when Alfa came around. Why?

    First, Alfa is a highly organized, meticulous clothes folder, and an obsessive compulsive "laundry day" cleaner. He meticulously rack up his well-sorted dirty clothes before bringing them to the laundry. I am the "throw everything to the bin and sort it later" kind of person. Hell, he spent hours to clean and tidy the place around once he has the mood to do so and I'm the kind of person who clean and tidy everything everyday but not really meticulously (like I'll left strands of hairs or bits of debris here and there).

    Second, coming from a humble and very independent background, he knows his way around household chores. Something which I never learn until I hastily left my childhood home to discover the world. Yes, everyone, I just knew how the washing machine works when I'm 16--not proud. 

    Third, you know those people who watches and/or reads how to basic?? I'm them.

    Alfa has no washing machine in his previous run-down rental house, and the cost of express-washing, even in the pay-per-kilos laundry were pretty expensive, so when he was at his clinical rotation, I was tasked with the hefty burden of washing his clothes. Yes. Hefty burden, indeed. But his work clothes require no sordid work of ironing, so I just dry them and the next morning, the guy will pick up his clothes and wear it. 

    I was so safe for so long, until that day when he came back from Palembang a few weeks ago. 

    As per his stay of course he rack up a ton of dirty clothes, and knowing he had to handwash them back in Palembang moved my heart (I hate knowing he woke up at 2 AM just to wash clothes because water is rationed from 4PM to 6AM only) So I sorted all of his clothes, wash it, dry it... and... Iron them. And here's where things got worse. 

    I have no idea what I'm doing. First thing first, he pinpointed that I've been using our drying machine wrong all of this time. I recently bought a top load washing & drying machine, something which I wasn't accustomed to. So, instead of lining up all the clothes with the dryer tube, I just put all of our clothes in there (like you do in front-loading washing machine with built in dryer). So, 1 for Alfa and 0 for me. 

    I was standing there in the laundry room alone because my maid were taking her leave before I collected all my guts and run into Alfa in the kitchen (he was robbing our refrigerator) and asked, "baby, how did you Iron and fold these?" which he answer with burst of laughter. He teach me how to fold clothes properly and pressed them with the iron. Well, for the first time homegirl doesn't have to log in to youtube and watches how to basic to do things. While I was dazed and dumbfounded by the fact I just ironed a piece of clothing properly that isn't mine to begin with, he then asked, "you never do this before?"

    "do what before?"

    "folding and ironing your clothes"

    "well if i can fold and iron properly, I wouldn't feel the need of having this much of clothes hanger am I?"

    And he laughed as if it was something really funny. For me, it wasn't. I'm ashamed that eventhough I'm a holier-than-thou feminist, a mere task like ironing some clothes has brought me to my knees. 

    Some (extreme) feminist might said, because of equalities, women should not worry if they can't do basic household chores like this perfectly because it's not women's job anymore. Well, in this matter I disagree. I felt so small than when I have an equal position with a man, I still can't do something that a man could do perfectly. I felt like I'm just this pseudo-feminist who is actually a spoiled brat who just flatly refused to learn how to handle household chores, but even worse, I felt like I'm the loser, and I lose to a man, in terms of ironing and folding the clothes. And losing was the last thing I want to feel. I hate losing. 

    So right now, the first step that I will challenge on our gender equality roles on our wedding is that I, who was born spoiled and rotten, will do every household chores perfectly. Including ironing our clothes. Because a feminist should be a strong woman who can handle everything, even a simple task like folding the clothes. And being a feminist is where i'll be.
    . Saturday, June 27, 2015 .

    Stuff We Think in the Toilet #004: On Ironing the Clothes...

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    . Saturday, June 27, 2015 .

    If there's one thing I'm pretty sure I hate more than anything, It's ironing my clothes. Truth to be told I was so comfortable on having the clothes ironed by our live-in maids for the 16 years I spent on my parents house, and the rest usually were done by the 'pay-per-kilograms laundry' which were very cheap and can easily be found anywhere in Indonesia. With all due respect but the cost for ironing a kilogram of clothes usually goes around Rp. 2000-4000 (around 2 cents-5 cents per kilogram!) and my time is the most valuable treasure I have, since, you know, I go to college and I'm lazy, so paying around Rp. 5000 to Rp. 12.000 (from 5 cents to USD 1) I can have all my clothes perfectly ironed and pressed and folded.

    After living alone, my mom kind of paying for an in-house maid to take care all my needs, including ironing the clothes, which at first I boldly refuse but I can't anymore since my mom loves to be in charge of everything (yes, now we know where my traits came from) including my very single and plain household life. So, yes, I'm spoiled and rotten when it comes to ironing my own clothes. And even when our maid is on the leave, I will just simply sort my clothes, throwing it into the washing machine, drying them, and leave a pile of dry, clean, and wrinkled clothes on a laundry basket until our maid came back.

    image are taken from here


    These kind of things changes when Alfa came around. Why?

    First, Alfa is a highly organized, meticulous clothes folder, and an obsessive compulsive "laundry day" cleaner. He meticulously rack up his well-sorted dirty clothes before bringing them to the laundry. I am the "throw everything to the bin and sort it later" kind of person. Hell, he spent hours to clean and tidy the place around once he has the mood to do so and I'm the kind of person who clean and tidy everything everyday but not really meticulously (like I'll left strands of hairs or bits of debris here and there).

    Second, coming from a humble and very independent background, he knows his way around household chores. Something which I never learn until I hastily left my childhood home to discover the world. Yes, everyone, I just knew how the washing machine works when I'm 16--not proud. 

    Third, you know those people who watches and/or reads how to basic?? I'm them.

    Alfa has no washing machine in his previous run-down rental house, and the cost of express-washing, even in the pay-per-kilos laundry were pretty expensive, so when he was at his clinical rotation, I was tasked with the hefty burden of washing his clothes. Yes. Hefty burden, indeed. But his work clothes require no sordid work of ironing, so I just dry them and the next morning, the guy will pick up his clothes and wear it. 

    I was so safe for so long, until that day when he came back from Palembang a few weeks ago. 

    As per his stay of course he rack up a ton of dirty clothes, and knowing he had to handwash them back in Palembang moved my heart (I hate knowing he woke up at 2 AM just to wash clothes because water is rationed from 4PM to 6AM only) So I sorted all of his clothes, wash it, dry it... and... Iron them. And here's where things got worse. 

    I have no idea what I'm doing. First thing first, he pinpointed that I've been using our drying machine wrong all of this time. I recently bought a top load washing & drying machine, something which I wasn't accustomed to. So, instead of lining up all the clothes with the dryer tube, I just put all of our clothes in there (like you do in front-loading washing machine with built in dryer). So, 1 for Alfa and 0 for me. 

    I was standing there in the laundry room alone because my maid were taking her leave before I collected all my guts and run into Alfa in the kitchen (he was robbing our refrigerator) and asked, "baby, how did you Iron and fold these?" which he answer with burst of laughter. He teach me how to fold clothes properly and pressed them with the iron. Well, for the first time homegirl doesn't have to log in to youtube and watches how to basic to do things. While I was dazed and dumbfounded by the fact I just ironed a piece of clothing properly that isn't mine to begin with, he then asked, "you never do this before?"

    "do what before?"

    "folding and ironing your clothes"

    "well if i can fold and iron properly, I wouldn't feel the need of having this much of clothes hanger am I?"

    And he laughed as if it was something really funny. For me, it wasn't. I'm ashamed that eventhough I'm a holier-than-thou feminist, a mere task like ironing some clothes has brought me to my knees. 

    Some (extreme) feminist might said, because of equalities, women should not worry if they can't do basic household chores like this perfectly because it's not women's job anymore. Well, in this matter I disagree. I felt so small than when I have an equal position with a man, I still can't do something that a man could do perfectly. I felt like I'm just this pseudo-feminist who is actually a spoiled brat who just flatly refused to learn how to handle household chores, but even worse, I felt like I'm the loser, and I lose to a man, in terms of ironing and folding the clothes. And losing was the last thing I want to feel. I hate losing. 

    So right now, the first step that I will challenge on our gender equality roles on our wedding is that I, who was born spoiled and rotten, will do every household chores perfectly. Including ironing our clothes. Because a feminist should be a strong woman who can handle everything, even a simple task like folding the clothes. And being a feminist is where i'll be.
    . Thursday, June 25, 2015 .

    Today I would like to talk about body images. Yes, as sensitive as it was, to most women, body images were considered important--especially to those who were born with extra fluff like me. 

    Wait what? Yes, I'm almost a plus sized women. Weighing around 130 Pounds/65kgs, with height around 160 cm or 5'3". I was born with extra plump of fat in the front part of my body. It's so hard to find clothes that will fit me, since those extra plump of fat will make every clothes i wear looks either vulgar or fattening. I mainly wear L-XL clothes to hide my chests area, although M-L will fit my other body part just fine. 

    Being called "fatty" "fat girl" "slugs" or as indonesian called it "gemuk" and "gembrot" was a daily routine. At first I cried and tried to lose a lot of weights that affect my health. People always tell me to exercise while most of them doesn't know i did yoga and running (especially with the dogs) almost daily. I don't eat that much either. One thing I know is I have a hormonal imbalance that affects my health, and to cope with such imbalance I was heavily dependant on certain medication. Those conditions topped with dating a very skinny guy (100 pounds/50kgs & 170 cm/ 5'7") and hardly found clothes my size.

    I've tried everything from "healthy diet" to "weight loss drugs" to "just puke your food out". I lose my hope and stopped dieting. I'm lucky that I'm surrounded with such positive friends that made me turned those shame into our daily jokes. They always encourage me to live healthier instead of living skinnier. And now, even though i gained a few pounds i'm so lucky that i have more beautiful and glowy skin, and never feel sluggish at all, in fact most of people i know were surprised on how active my lifestyle is!

    Well guess what, call me fat or whatever, I don't care. The only thing I'm concerned of, is my health and my well being. I don't need some random bastard on social media prancing around mocking my body images. Sorry, I'm not sorry I was born this way. I got friends, families and fiance who loves me no matter how fat I am and some hate comments will not break my will down.

    image from Headspace (head there for more information!)
    Whenever I was depressed and unhappy, I binge on sugary desserts. It's super unhealthy but I always use sugar as my moodbooster. I can't stop drinking soda because it's so addicting. Recently I tried to minimize my sugar intake and as it's Ramadhan (Moslem's fasting month), I used it as an opportunity to self-reflect on my very unhealthy eating habit and my body images issues.

    Body image issues can lead to several unhealthy eating habits and in the end, eating disorder. You will find yourself turn into a self-deprecating enthusiast and develop this unhealthy obsession about yourself. It leads to several conditions including depression, anxiety, and addictions. And before some of you pro-anorexic/pro-bulimia groups attack me with "eating disorder is just a myth" argument, i present you headspace's article about eating disorder mythbuster which you can read and download here.

    Lately this whole body-image issues were surfacing since I have this habit of scrolling through my social media feeds and find a lot of people fat-shaming other people. I found this as a very vile and unhealthy thing. Well, from my experience, people who make comments about other people bodies were the one who was uncomfortable with themselves either. They projected their anxieties towards other people, shaming them so in the end they feel extra good with themselves.

    For those who were going through some body images issues; never break down. Love yourself, because if you don't even know how to love yourself, how can everyone else loves you? Stay positive and stay with positive people who encourages you to be healthier not to be skinnier. Focused on being healthy, not being skinny. And if you do some cardio and other sports activities, aim to look good naked rather than look good in clothes!

    Until next time!
    . Thursday, June 18, 2015 .

    It's been so long since I updated this blog, and I'm not really sorry because I've been so busy (YES, REALLY BUSY) planning my upcoming wedding. I know this post is supposed to be my apology to my non-existent blog reader, but my apology were just like my reader--they're nowhere, lol. I don't even believe that my own fiance was reading these. 

    I feel like throwing a wedding party shouldn't be hard since I was in event planning for years, and as much as i love to be right, this time I'm 100% wrong. Planning my own wedding sucks. I plan my cousins' weddings for years and when it comes to my own wedding, my perfectionist traits gets ahead of me--and it drives everyone else crazy. 

    My formal family meeting/engagement/wedding preparations were just days away. Alfa, as usual, is busy working his day away because I want a big old diamond ring--greedy, some might say--and I was busy with so many work project and grad-school preparation. Right now, I'm in my parents house in Jakarta and enjoying the good life where chinese food is always available at the table, but you have to walk more than 100 metres just to get a glass of water. My parents were so excited about the engagement already that I think they secretly planned my wedding in their head too.

    We've agreed on a small ceremony with just friends and close families only. The invitation will be carefully curated since we want it to be really private and touching. After all both of me and my fiance were an only kid in our family. If my parents wants their colleague in my wedding, they should just get married again *insert devilish laugh*. 

    Anyway, a few weeks ago, drama erupted between us, and I was in such state that I almost believe that our soon-to-be-marriage will be over. Even I packed my ring away and ready to give it back, because the state that we were in. But once again, like my mother always say, "kindness will prevail"--or like I always say "always be a zero bullshit person and be direct". The thing is we wasted so many precious minutes of our lives thinking of a way to sugarcoat something, and we shouldn't.

    I respect Alfa as a human being with feelings. He's entitled to his opinion as much as I am to mine. And I won't let anybody uses me to drive his opinion. Being a husband and a head of a family means to lead, and I'm the follower. I'm the lamb and he is the shepherd. I don't always agree to what he did but I respect his opinion and his feelings. Marriage is supposed to be equal, and I put his feelings, thoughts and opinions equally high to mine. After all, we were born in two different worlds with a huge difference on each side. 

    And to those who were offended with my reaction towards their way to control what Alfa should do or shouldn't do, I truly apologize. But once again, as much as it's my wedding, it's his too. And he has the rights to choose what he thinks is best. I learned this a long time ago, that you can't fix people, you can only love them. I can't fix what already happened in the past--I can't turn back time or make people change for the better, in any way, I can't play God, but I can love him earnestly and hope that he'll do the same. He teaches me, that life is so much better when you forgive and let go, and when you actually forgive and let go, it shines through you. 

    And if he can forgive most of people who ruined his life, why can't I?