No Holding Back

No Holding Back. The tagline, the parting words, and the lasting message of the book I've just finished, closed, and placed on the shelf where all my books are spines in, edges out. I finally feel like I'm ready to show off my edge, whatever that means.

No. Holding. Back.

It's new year, new me, baby!

That was me almost two years ago, giving the first Fresh Impact interview on the self-help book that changed my life. This year, they're doing the televised grand finale of the social experiment that this book really entails. I mean, it's in the title. Twenty four months of jump-starts. And it's literally that simple. You jump. Straight out of your bed. Jump. That's the first thing you do. Jump! Before any-

Jump, jump, jump, jump, jump,jump, jump.

I am all jumped out! And it hasn't even been a full two years of this. But, you know how commercial success is: you streamline it, bottom line it, and put a pretty bow on it. Self-help is all the rage right now. January has been overhauled: it's not dry January anymore (thanks Christmas), it's try January!

And if you think that I've been feeding you this idea, selling you this concept, putting you on to this sham -- you're all wrong. I've been hypnotizing myself, really -- treating myself to a pill that seemed sweet and easy to swallow. The satisfaction of "staying sane and slimmer in your thirties" was too good to pass. The best selling point for "a spinster on the prowl and ready to settle down with someone special." That's what they introduced me as in the feature in my hometown newspaper. I'm no longer Wendy Chan, I'm Wendy-jumping-chan. When I go places and say things people can't keep it together.

"Oh, don't mind her, she's jumping! I mean kidding!"

"That's so jumping funny!"

"Do you mind if I jump the line?"

"Why so jumpy?"

"How does it feel to be leaping famous... get it?"

All these lines are said by men. Eligible bachelors turn kings of puns. In. My. Face. And if at the starting line of my growing fame I thought it was a way to open a conversation and break the ice with a bit of forced laughter, now I know whoever wrote that book was a menace to society at large. And I bet it is a single jumping Jack! Or jock! Whatever! Ahha-ha-ha!

So now that the infamous jumping retreat is days away, I'm researching the jumping author. And yes, jumping is derogatory now. Big. Jumping. Time.

There's been some discovery, I must say. The author is, indeed, a lover of self-help in many ways. I learned for a fact that it's a man of many applicable talents. His Instagram reads: "When I'm not writing about jumps, you know what I'm doing. Otherwise, I've built a tiny house, grew a whole sturdy and durable tree, and started building a pool for my future family." His posts are varied; he takes close-up photos of everything he touches. There's a video of him kindling a bonfire. There is a shot of him strumming the ukulele. His name is Kyllian Garth. He's thirty-nine. And he is the man who will pay for it all, literally and figuratively.

The ride to the wilderness is underwhelming and actively numbing my brain with a monotony of view. Winters I play the radio as white noise, my windows are up, headlights on and off. I tap the wheel, I grab, I twist. I'm here.

Names are shared, hands are shook, smiles are presented. It all looks poised and dignified to me. Until I see him. The one who took the only chance to jump the gun and made it out unscathed and richer for it. Kyllian Garth, the man of the hour. Surrounded by a star journalist and then some, he never minds my glances, my side-eye, my biased glare. I sip the flute empty and stare the man down.

The audacity. That's some winning title for ya, pal!

The nerve. It should be a series. We can't bear a greedy stand-alone! How about someone teaching you the art of a one-word title? Hot take, long overdue. I could put that on a T-shirt and gift it with my nemesis monologue.

Oh, snap! He's coming. He's steps away. He's--

"I believe it's time we get jumping, how 'bout that?"

"Cameras are rolling! Big flashy close up on her strappy high heels! And... ! Jump! Jump! Jump!"

You would think that after almost two whole years of contemplated singleness and being playfully mocked, I would be of much courage and determination to stand my ground, oh no-no. Such a starch denial. Such a long jumping spree. An immense live turnout. Too many inspired potentials to sit them all down and have a real talk. And you know, I saw the bigger picture in my mind's eye. Kyllian is a man. He's different. He can never be understood by me, or anyone else of my kind. I'm driven by emotions, spur of the moment moods. I came out to see him, to speak my wounded mind, and ultimately blame him. He doesn't even care. And it's not to say that he should, it's just a fact. I'm Wendy. I'm thirty-two. I'm single. And I believe I just got a book right there. How to lose to others and win to yourself, one jump at a time.

Many jumps later...

"And she's back to teach us all the ropes of single womanhood, starting with her newest release: 'The fame that sits you down exactly where you belong.' Order now, and get it signed by the lovely, ever-mingling Wendy Chan!"

"Thank you so much! I can't say thank you enough! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I used to think that I had been dealt the short end of the stick, the raw deal, the bad stuff, well... it's safe to say, I don't think that anymore. Moreover, I think the opposite. The fame that first got me depressed is also the fame that got me well dressed, well nourished, well-off in earnest! It's what you do with what you've got, not what you've got and what you keep missing out on. I keep being single! That is something I had to realise for myself without looking for scapegoats in men, or industries, or publishers. I am the product of my own marketing efforts. And I chose to see myself in the light of a perpetual doom and gloom. But can I live a life worth living being my worst bad omen? It's time we choose the narrative we want to serve. Kyllian Garth didn't ruin my life. He took me on a retreat and showed me how it's done. Now I can do that same thing with my thoroughly ignited, jump-started female power. I'm finally showing my edge, just like I once promised myself. And, for those who are wondering, Kyllian and I are working on a project together that's coming out next year. He's been to my place many times now, and I taught him to know a book by its edges. He can tell his book apart from any other one on my shelves, just like that. And they are all spines in and shuffled around every single time he's over. I guess, in a way, I also showed him how it's done."

Well, at least I can safely say I didn't see that coming. A hollywood edit for the history books. And, of course, a bow.