Becoming Fifi - 28

April 18th
Dear Journal,

The last few days have been a blur. From the crack of dawn until late at night, it feels like my life has been nothing but errands and obligations. It’s physically and mentally draining, especially in high heels that now feel like a permanent extension of my body. I often catch myself longing for the days when I could throw on a pair of trainers and not have every step feel like a circus act on stilts.

And then, on top of everything else, there’s Annisa and her French lessons. That’s its own kind of comedy. I’m drilling her on phrases and grammar, and she’s teaching me patience. Somewhere in the middle of it all, I can’t escape the thought that each lesson just pulls me deeper into this façade I’m stuck living.

Still, in the rare moments of respite, my phone becomes my little escape hatch. Ani’s there, always so positive, feeding me scraps of normal life. Then there’s Kevin. Somehow, he’s turned into this steady, daily presence. A “How was your day?” or “What are you up to?”—tiny messages, but they carry more warmth than I’d expect, like he really means them.

Today, though, the routine broke. Kartika invited me out shopping, and I thought, why not? I needed a change of scenery. And with Kartika, “shopping” isn’t just shopping—it’s an event. A full-blown tour of Jakarta’s most exclusive boutiques and fashion houses.

What surprised me most was her English. She’s more confident now, the hesitations fewer, with her words flowing more easily. Maybe it’s just practice from spending so much time together, or maybe she’s simply more relaxed around me. Either way, it’s a relief—we can finally share more than just laughter and gestures.

We were bouncing from one store to another when she suddenly pulled me into a jewellery shop. She fussed over a dozen things before her eyes lit up at a pair of sparkly earrings. She held them up to my ear, grinned, and said, “For you.” I smiled but shook my head, reminding her politely that my ears weren’t pierced. I thought that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t.

The next thing I knew, she was whispering to the shop girl, and suddenly I was being led into a back room. Before I could even form a protest, bang—the piercing gun went off, right through my earlobe. I just froze. And then, before I could stop it, bang—the other one. Both ears pierced within seconds.

“There, now we get you earrings,” Kartika chirped as she swept back out to the shop floor.

I was left with the smiling woman who’d just shot holes through my ears. Stumbling to my feet, legs shaky and temper flaring, I tottered after Kartika—angry and frustrated, but clinging to the thought that holes close up eventually, right?

For the next half hour, I must have made my irritation painfully obvious—sulky face, barely a word spoken. Maybe that’s what prompted my next surprise of the day.

In a shoe shop, Kartika’s eyes lit up as she picked up a pair of bubblegum-pink shoes that looked like high heels with the backs cut off. Mischief all over her face, she waved them in front of me. “For you!”

“Kartika, no way,” I started, trying to rattle off all the reasons why I shouldn’t be caught dead in such shoes. But she was quick. With a flick of her hand, she had an attendant rushing over, rattling off my size and pointing at my feet like she was ordering lunch.

Before I could properly object, I was dropped into a chair and those shiny contraptions were strapped onto my feet. Then came the real humiliation—being told to stand and walk. So I did. And to my surprise, they weren’t nearly as impossible as they looked. Awkward, sure, but not lethal. They were stable enough, though they forced my steps into a mincing clomp instead of anything resembling a normal heel-to-toe walk.

I shot Kartika a look somewhere between disbelief and begging for mercy, but she was already grinning like she’d won a prize. “They perfect!” she squealed, clapping like a child on Christmas morning. My weak protests went ignored as she marched to the counter, paid for them, and then—with all the flourish in the world—announced I should keep them on.

I tried to sulk, but honestly, her sheer joy, mixed with how ridiculous the whole situation was, made it hard not to laugh.

“See?” she teased as we left the centre, nudging me in the ribs. “You always complain about high heels. Now you heelless! No more complaints, yes?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, half in disbelief, as she pulled out her phone to snap a picture. That’s the one I sketched here—Fifi, pouting at the camera in a floral summer dress fluttering around her smooth thighs. Her hair was sleek and styled, her makeup subtle yet striking enough to make her eyes and lips pop. And her feet, perched on those bizarre shoes, looked for all the world like a pair of horse’s hooves.

(See image 28)

After that, the mood lifted, and I have to admit—it turned into a fun afternoon. Definitely better than slogging through a shift at the boutique. The hours blurred together in laughter, teasing, and more shopping bags than I could carry. For every awkward moment, there were ten where we simply enjoyed each other’s company.

By the time the sun dipped low, casting Jakarta in that golden evening glow, I realised it isn’t the clothes, the shoes, or even the fresh sting in my newly pierced ears that really matter. It’s the laughter, the friendships, the unexpected joy in moments like today. Those are the memories that will stay with me, long after I finally escape this mess—if I ever do.