Hello, I blog!
I share all my sporadic and toilet thoughts in here, because I am random like that.
The day I said “WTF” … with my t-shirt.
So, I wore my awesome self-customized tee to work today. If I hadn’t loved that tee enough prior to this, I love it even more now.
Me and my awesome shirt!
The tee’s first wash (post painting + high-heat ironing) went by pretty smoothly. The colours didn’t run, unlike what I had initially feared.
For those who are wondering, the brand of fabric paint I used is Dylon. I did some research on the brand and apparently, it is really reliable. They manufacture some other novel fabric-centric products such as colour run removers.
Tee-painting in progress
I’ve been wanting to do this since forever but have been holding out for years. One, because I had little or no faith in my painting abilities – especially when it comes to fabrics. Two, I didn’t have any good-quality plain tees on hand and was too lazy to head out to source for one.
So, when a plain white tee (of very decent cotton quality) landed on my lap (thanks to the sample t-shirt sourcing done by my work company a coupla’ months ago), it was a painting opportunity screaming for my attention.
Additionally, when I spotted a giant ‘Sales!’ banner at Spotlight – Singapore’s largest fabric and craft store – the opportunity began screaming even louder. I managed to get DYLON black fabric paint at 20% off. Whee.
I began by manually drawing out letters using a blunt pencil. (Yes, manually. No stencils were involved here because I had none. I measured the dimensions of the tee like crazy to ascertain where exactly I wanted the letters and that they were positioned symmetrically. I’m that anal. :P)
Drawing out the letters.
If you intend to do a similar tee but is too lazy to draw out the letters manually, you can create your own stencils by printing out letters on light cardboard and cutting them out.
And yeah, I know your eyes are boggling right now at the choice of letters on the t-shirt. I’ve been wanting a t-shirt with “WTF” printed on it since forever and I can’t seem to find them anywhere. So I decided to make my own.
Painting in the letters with fabric paint.
Following which, I filled in the letters with a soft brush dipped in the fabric paint. Because I wasn’t using stencils, this was pretty tricky especially when it came to ensuring the edges of the letters were perfectly straight. (Well, they weren’t in the end. But the very slight jaggedness was not very noticeable unless you looked very closely.)
Thankfully, I had decently steady hands so the outcome turned out pretty well.
Leaving the tee out to dry.
I left the tee out to dry for approximately three hours. Actually, the required drying time was much less than that but I just wanted to be sure. (First time painting a t-shirt, remember? Plus, I was really worried I might screw up something – although everything was pretty smooth thus far.)
After drying, iron over the letters (to set the paint permanently) with an electric iron on the highest possible heat setting, and a cloth placed over the letters (no direct heat contact here – the last thing you’d want is a t-shirt on fire!). The instructions on the bottle of fabric paint called for 1-2 minutes, but I did this for 4-5 minutes. (Weeeell. Just wanted to be sure again.)
Thus, behold!
The end product!
Oops, pardon that magazine placed beneath the words. I wanted to separate the painted side from the back of the tee for a while more … just to be sure. (Yes, again. Hahaha.)
Now that the tee painting is complete, it’s time for the last crucial step – putting the tee through its first wash.
I really hope the fabric paint behaves the way it is expected to and stays on the t-shirt.
I do not want to end up with a blackish stained, pseudo tie-dyed shirt to account for the amount of (extremely anal) work I’d put in!
Medical professionals, ethics and religion
I’ve had my first (and last) consultation with a general surgeon today, and returned home with a slightly diminished level of respect for the medical profession (and zilch respect for surgeons in general) and a mind that is still boggling at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.
If you’ve been following my Twitter updates during the past few hours, you’ll understand why I am so miffed.
My impression of him was mediocre at best during the first few minutes of my consultation. He wasn’t very personable, and basically treated the patient (me) like “just another object he has to deal with in his line of work.”
That impression went on a further downward spiral when he snapped at me later during the consultation.
“Don’t you question me! Just do what I tell you to do” was his abrupt, arrogant response, when I asked him about my physio treatment and what it was for, and how he came up with his eventual prognosis.
“Excuse me? I am the patient. I have every right to question you on what you are going to do and the rationale behind any treatment I need,” I retorted in response.
I am paying YOU for your time. Additionally, it is MY treatment and MY body that it affects. I have every right to know what is going on. It is a basic right, a given entitlement to any patient.
Is it so difficult for you to open your mouth to explain, given your experience and standing in your profession? Also considering that I am paying you a hundred buckeroos for a 20-minute long consultation?
It doesn’t just end at his lack of emotional quotient.
Unfortunately for me, Mister Surgeon happened to be a preachy religion advocate too.
Disclaimer:
For the record, I have absolutely nothing against religious people. I respect them for their beliefs and in return, they respect me for mine. However, I have zero tolerance towards those who don’t.
Towards the end of the consultation – just as I was about to leave – Mister Surgeon told me that “I should start praying more.”
“I don’t pray,” I informed him. (For the record, I am agnostic.)
That was when he turned to my mother and asked what religion we were. Mum informed him that my family members are free-thinkers while I am an agnostic. In response, Mister Surgeon began to tut.
“Ah, no wonder! You’re not praying at all! That’s why you are sick all the time and not recovering!” says he, visibly showing his displeasure.
My patience snapped.
“Excuse me? YOU have YOUR beliefs and I have MINE. I have the prerogative to choose what I want or do not want to believe in, and you do not impose your beliefs on others.”
The consultation ended on that note.
However, my encounter with Mister Surgeon didn’t end there.
A few minutes later, mum and I returned to the clinic as she wanted to ask the nurse some questions. Mister Surgeon happened to be at the waiting room at the time and approached me when he saw me.
“Let’s leave your mum and my nurse to talk. You don’t need to listen to them. Let’s go outside,” says he.
I was immediately on guard.
“Why?” I asked. “They are talking about my medical situation. I can stay around and listen in if I want to.”
“Let’s go to the lift area. I want to talk to you spiritually,” says he. I didn’t respond. I simply glared at him.
“Well you see, God is asking me to talk to you,” he continues.
I continued glaring, still not responding. If he is so dense to the point of being unable to grasp the fact that I am not fucking interested and that people are able to live fulfilling lives without having to believe in some supernatural power, I am not going to dignify him with a response.
Mister Surgeon eventually threw his hands into the air and momentarily exeunted. However, he returned to the scene a coupla’ minutes later with the following conclusion – “I shouldn’t try to push God to you. You will end up becoming very angry with God. But I just know that in the future, one day – you WILL go to God!”
Whatever.
Very nice try at self-convincing, Mister Surgeon. But sorry, you are still in denial of the fact that people do not need to have a religion to be happy.
And what’s with all that hogwash about “being angry with God”? If there is a God, I doubt there will be anything wrong with him. There are those who fervently subscribe to their religions, knowing exactly what it entails. But deluded followers like you, Mister Surgeon, is WHAT’S WRONG.
Attributing my (lack of) religion as a reason to why my health is deteriorating when YOU are a medical specialist?! Oh, come on. You have more than 50 years in the medical field. What is your excuse for coming up with something as baseless and insensitive as that?
That is honestly, stepping over the line, not to mention the height of unprofessionalism. In fact, this goes against the Code of Medical Ethics.
A physician shall treat patients as equals and not allow race, religion, political views or social status to have any effect on his actions towards them.
As a surgeon, specialist or any kind of medical doctor, thou shall respect thy patients’ right to choice, as well as their personal space and privacy. The relationship is to be maintained strictly at a professional level so as to avoid any conflicts of interest.
Introducing elements such as religion into the picture – especially Mister Surgeon’s pushy attempts at imposing his religion upon yours’ truly (despite my attempts at refusal) – is quite obviously, out of self-interest and basically shatters what’s remaining of the trust and mutual respect in the relationship.
In fact – based on feedback from my followers on Twitter and comments on my Facebook Profile – I have a substantial enough case to lodge a report with the hospital administration, which I won’t because I just can’t be arsed to.
I don’t care if you gained your medical degree in 1966 (with more than 40 years of experience under your belt). I don’t give a fuck if you have been accepted as a fellowship for some Surgeon’s society in 1970 (which is still, way before I was born). With EQ like that, you shouldn’t even become a doctor to begin with, let alone a surgeon.
I’m never stepping into your clinic again, that is for sure. You do not have my respect and my trust, and you never will. You may be educationally qualified but you’re scum in my eyes, as far as today goes.
How I wish I’ve gotten over the initial shock at the situation so I could have better articulated to Mister Surgeon exactly what I thought of him on the spot, and my distaste towards his actions.
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