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The most important meal of the day

Lingbo Li — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 20:37:11 +0000

One of the nicest breakfasts I’ve had recently. Note the robin egg’s blue cup of espresso.

I didn’t win! But I learned…

Lingbo Li — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 02:38:02 +0000

… that I’m fine the way I am, and that my favorite girls, Dana and Runa, were ROBBED of the title. D:

The girl who won is in the middle:

Miss NY USA 2010 in the white dress, forget her name.

My roommate Dana is on the right, she placed in the top five.

More coherent thoughts later on the whole experience.

My scary pageant face

Lingbo Li — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 18:47:38 +0000

So it’s about an hour until I have to leave, and I’m slathered in spray tan makeup all over my body. I’m wearing so much makeup I’m afraid my skin will never recover. My false eyelashes are coated in black mascara goo. My hair is teased within an inch of its life.

Beauty is so, so ugly.

Final show for Miss NY USA 2010 in three hours

Lingbo Li — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 16:39:43 +0000

… wish me luck!

They’ll be announcing the top 20, who will walk again in their evening gowns. After that, it’ll be narrowed to the top ten, who switch into their swimsuits in a frenzy of nakedness and boob-adjustment. Then the lucky top five will be announced – and they’ll quick change again into evening gown and answer really easy questions off their bio sheets.

I’m currently 1) groggy. And uh, 2) groggy.

The girl right after me is a super sweet model who’s done an internship at NASA, so I hope she or my roommate wins… but we’ll see! Going to do some extra crunches beforehand for muscle definition just in case, haha.

I think three days of pageantry is definitely enough for me.

Behind the scenes at Miss New York USA, Day 2

Lingbo Li — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 05:37:51 +0000

Welcome to another day of hair teasing, fake eyelashing, and uh, sitting around.

A lot of being in a pageant involves two activites

Getting “ready”

This takes at least two hours and 20 products and half a can of hairspray. Essential to the process is the tease-and-curl (not some crunk dance move) of backcombing strips of hair to create that 80′s mall diva allure. I failed at this for evening gown.

Waiting

You watch other contestants stomp/sashay/stumble down the carpeted runway whilst the MC herds you along like the incompetent 14 year olds you are. Sometimes this is punctuated with “spontaneous” Zumba lessons, which are CLEARLY scheduled in.

Yes kids, I eventually got up and shook my butt as well. I’m no pageant killjoy. I dance backstage before we get on as well… this was particularly true yesterday as we waiting in our bikinis and 6 inch heels to parade about like a particularly well-padded dog show.

The closing number included a former Miss Connecticut singing “Turn the Beat Around” while we all clapped and tried not to fall over in our interview suits.

Speaking of the interview, it reminded me a lot of my speed dating experience, except it was speedier. We got two minutes with each judge. At least ten seconds was spent walking over and waiting for them to find out bio sheet. I accidentally frightened one by impatiently achievement-dumping him upon waiting for him to lcoate the bio sheet.

Me: SO LET ME GIVE YOU THE SHORT VERSION I’M A JUNIOR AT HARVARD AND I’VE WRITTEN INTERNATIONALLY FOR PUBLICATIONS AND I HELPED FOUND AN NGO —

Him: Ok. take a deep breath.

Me: Ok.

Him: What do you do for fun?

Me: I like to eat out. I ate bull testicles! And calves brains! There was a video!!!

I’m not sure how that went.

I chilled out after that and fared much better. Sometime I got annoyed that a judge used our precious 30 seconds to talk about themselves… because there was so little time that there was almost no time to even give my “I’m awesome!!” elevator pitch.

(And by awesome, I mean dropping the H-Bomb shamelessly. I may not have the biggest hair, or uh, biggest other parts, but my education is really old, pretentious, and expensive!)

The evening gown preliminaries went off fine, except some GIRL stepped on my dressed and ripped a piece of the bottom. It was sewn up by a chaperone, thank god.

The key with evening gown is to walk very slowly and evenly, as if you’re floating, and to radiate happiness and good will at the judges while keeping excellent posture.

I find out tomorrow during the final pageant whether I made it into the top 20 (possible!) or not. If I do, I’ll compete in evening gown and swimsuit again. If I make it into the top five (doubtful!), I’d have to answer an on stage question taken from my bio sheet.

Dear blog readers, wish me luck on my journey towards breaking racial barriers. I’m just a humble Chinese- American girl chasing this red white and blue dream. I’m an immigrant in a country built by immigrants. Boys barked at me in middle school – and it’s haunted me ever since.

You know, it’s funny that it’s taken something as shallow and somewhat dehumanizing as a beauty pageant to realize that I have many other excellent qualities other than my physical appearance or ability to speed date a judge. Like my ability to purchase stylish evening wear for only $45! Second Time Around on Boston’s Newbury St., baby.

Check it outtt.

Me and Dana, my fabulous roommate, last year's 2rd runner up!

I think I made a styling error in going for an updated retro chic feel with the red lips and hair – makeup and hair in pageantry follow a pretty exacting formula of soft mauve lip and smokey brown or purple-black eye.

Miss New York USA Day 1: Swimsuit Preliminary

Lingbo Li — Sat, 28 Nov 2009 05:19:53 +0000

I have been declared cattle contestant 247 in the Miss New York USA 2010 pageant.

In all honesty, day 1 has been fun in the most wholesome of ways: all the girls (including myself) help each other behind the scenes. We cheer each other on. We compliment each other’s swimsuits. We paint on obscene amounts of bronzer. We all have stretch marks, cellulite, big butts, flat hair, and ungainly heels – and this makes everything ok. For some reason, I was expecting a room of Barbies, and there are a few Barbie-beautiful girls (who will win this pageant), but the majority of us are just you know, normal girls.

There are definitely varying levels of pageantry experience – a former Miss New York Teen USA is competing for the Miss title, while another girl didn’t bother to go tanning or buy a trendy swimsuit or make her hair enormous. I am satisfied that I’m somewhat prepared for this whole shebang.

My beautiful roommate was last year’s 2rd runner up. We collapsed and munched on popcorn and pretzels after the swimsuit preliminary competition and watched The Sweetest Thing on TV.

This is all so happy and wholesome it is slightly ridiculous. If only Harvard were like, a giant slumber party with girls in bikinis and stripper heels. You know?

The schedule for tomorrow: interview (supposed to be really relaxed) around 10, lunch, evening gown rehearsal, then evening gown preliminary at 9pm. The actual pageant, and the announcement of the top 25, will be on Sunday.

Wish me luck guys! Here are some pics:

This is the only time in my life it seems totally appropriate to put up a photo of myself in a swimsuit… rest assured this never happens otherwise.

Lingbo gives herself skin cancer, or, tanning is fun.

Lingbo Li — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 18:45:47 +0000

Back in high school, I knew several things were true about the world:

Ugg boots were an abomination to nature, and I would never wear them.
Tanning was absurd, and the physical symbol of capitalism and industrialization. (Not that there is anything wrong with those.) Only Paris Hilton-wannabes would do such sick, frivolous things to themselves.
I would never, ever, ever, ever get into Harvard.

Since then, I’ve gotten into Harvard, and as a consequence, realized that sheepskin boots are awfully comfy in snowdrifts.

But I still maintained my belief that tanning was ridiculous.

In Asia, fairness is associated with beauty. Whitening creams are a dime a dozen, and before/after photos turn dusky-skinned outcasts into milk-white, lumiscient beauties. My natural skin is neither rosy-fair, nor particularly tan, and I was fine with whatever color I happened to turn with the coming and going of the seasons.

But if you examine the taut bodies of pageant contestants, you’ll note that they are, without exception, kissed with bronze. That bronze may be natural or Mystic tan; it varies from being baked in the California rays to cooked in the confined space of a tanning bed. But the fact remains that in American beauty, darker hues are seen as the antithesis to wan sickliness, unathleticism, and frigid winters. To be tan is to be wealthy, skinny, and in good health. Bronze carries aspirations of Hamptons beachfront mansions and girls with coltish legs set off by tennis whites. Tan is rich. Tan is beautiful.

Which is how I ended up standing in Darque Tan on Huntington Ave, driven by a Groupon discount deal. The saleswoman really pushed some tanning cream on me (I realized later she was being a good salesperson and that cream is not necessary).

“Have you ever tanned before?” she asked me.

“No, never,” I admitted. I felt like a sickly impostor.

She then tried to sell me a $45 bottle of tanning cream to “accelerate and maintain” my tan.

I finally was suckered into buying a $15 mini bottle.

Tanning is very complex, with five “levels” of tanning based on strength, along with a spray tan option. She started me off on Level 3 at 11 minutes based on my propensity to burn. “The bed will start automatically in five minutes,” she said, pointing at the blinking red light on the wall. “If you want to start sooner, press the button. The radio is over there.”

I fumbled with my cream and affixed my safety eyegear. The bed suddenly turned on with the loud, insistent whir of fans and an eery blue glow. I clambered in and pulled down the top.

I immediately freaked out.

It was like being sucked into an alien space pod. All around me was a flourescent blue light. My depth perception had changed. Mild claustrophobia ensued.

I think most jarring of all was the whirring of the fans – like I was about to be sucked into a separate dimension, wearing my really scary protective mini-goggles. I took some photos and amused myself with how creepy I looked.

beam me up, scotty

After my initial fear subsided, I fiddled with the facial bulbs and fan strength. I relaxed. It was almost … fun.

The results? I noticed my tummy was a shade or two darker, and my face looked a bit irritated. After another day or two, plus another tanning session in a level 5 bed, the redness was replaced by a light coloring.

My stomach, however, really took to this tanning thing. After four sessions of tanning, it’s a dark caramel hue, like the rich roasted skin of a Thanksgiving turkey. After maxing out at 12 minutes in the Level 5 bed my final time tanning, I noticed I had gone a little too hardcore – my back had burned a bit.

What scares me most is that I actually enjoy the entire process now. There’s something relaxing about lying down, tuning out, and feeling the warmth of carcinogenic rays turning your skin into the color of privilege. Plus, the radio is set to Top 40 radio. Katy Perry sings for me.

I never wanted to succumb to Ugg boots. I felt deep unease at first about attending Harvard. Why did I have to enter into tanning?

At least I have a few more brain cells than Paris Hilton. I hope.

A Quest for Lovely Locks: stylist Gregory Wilde gives me highlights.

Lingbo Li — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 21:11:38 +0000

Hair is one of the most effective tools anyone has. You can curl it, straighten it, dye it any color of the rainbow, and even attach other people’s hair to your hair.

Since a good or bad haircut and totally change the shape of your face (I mean, no average, feminine woman looks great with a crew cut versus long, flowing waves) hairdressers are the guardians of female power. They wield scissors. They apply foils. They make you.

Since I’m going to be judged on appearance, I wanted to put the best head of hair forward.

So I entrusted my head of coarse, dark hair to Gregory Wilde at Salon 26 in the North End, who specializes in producing the kind of long, lustrous, flowing locks that Blake Lively-wannabes can only dream of. I expressed my lifelong desire to be blonde, and he said perhaps in the future, he could do some nice light caramel coloring. But for now, he made an executive decision to give me chocolate brown highlights.

a cute, subterranean salon in the North End, a stone's throw from great red sauce Italian.

I have a lot of leftover color on the tips of my hair from dying it red, and after methodically and expertly covering my head in foils, the color on the mismatched bottom now matched the top. Then he worked some more magic with some extra shine and blowing my hair out into soft, satiny silk.

not as scary as it looks, promise.

Finally, he finished off with a GHD iron and again, magically curled my hair into voluminous waves, sprayed it with some hairspray, ruffled it for some volume, and sent me on my merry way.

Thanks, Greg, for a great salon experience. Be sure to grab him for an appointment if you can!

Dude, I’m so stressed.

Lingbo Li — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 05:11:06 +0000

It’s really, really hard to be beautiful.

Let’s ignore so-called “natural beauty” for a second as a freakish genetic aberration – which is its – since the confluence of genes and cultural values is not something any of us can control.

There are many kinds of beauty, and I’d argue that the beauty queen type of beauty is a pretty inhospitable one, an exaggerated, gay man’s ideal of womanhood. Different pageants also different ideals of beauty: Miss America doesn’t really look like Miss USA, for example.

The fact of the matter is, prepping for a beauty pageant is probably one of the most stressful, physically, and psychically demanding things I’ve done. Ok, so applying to college was more stressful, but it didn’t require the workout schedule or dieting, just a welling up of anxiety. The mundane nature of beauty pageant stress centers around a few things:

- Am I tan enough?
- Am I tall enough?
- Am I skinny enough?
- Am I pretty enough?
- Do I need better shoes?
- Should I shell out another $200 for colored contacts?
- Do I need a new dress?
- OMG I CAN HAZ WORLD PEACE?!

Thinking about such really inconsequential things is pretty taxing. So what if you have a paper due? You haven’t found the perfect pair of clear, 5 inch heels yet! (Just bought them, actually.) I have a sticky note on my computer with my chest-waist-hip measurements and approximate calorie counts of what I’ve eaten that day, along with reminders to myself in my inbox to buy superglue (broken earrings) and to go tanning. I still need a manicure. My heart tears up a bit every time I eat simple carbs. Etc.

I’ve been trying to do the two workouts a day routine, but this has proven pretty much impossible – I just don’t have any energy left over. On the plus side, that despicable practice of tanning has proven to pretty fun and effective at optically slimming the body. There’s just something about sitting a space pod bed of ultraviolet carcinogenic rays that is bizarrely calming and uplifting for the soul.

The first day of preliminaries is this Friday, so I only have to hold on for a few more days as I tie up loose ends. In the meantime, I’m exhausted! If you see me, feel free to give me a hug and give my stomach a poke – my abs have become a steel reserve.

Not all beautiful women are stupid

Lingbo Li — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 04:54:28 +0000

Commenter LindaW replied to my “Why I’m entering a beauty pageant” post with this:

Please don’t prejudge pageant contestants, especially Tracey. I can tell you, not only is she absolutely gorgeous in person, but she’s also one SMART woman. A native Mandarin speaker, she also speaks perfect English. She went to college on a full academic scholarship, worked on Wall St., and is now studying for her MBA at Columbia. She’s also ambitious: she’s working to become a financial journalist. With her looks and brains, she could be the next Maria Bartiromo – the Asian Money Honey!

I reread my post and realized that my abstract musings on my childhood insecurities sounded an awful lot like I was bashing pageants… which I’m not! My somewhat irrational desire to become a Barbie doll, brainlessness included, is not to suggest that beauty queens are airheaded – clearly, many are extremely accomplished in their own rights, beyond looking pretty and knowing how to walk in heels. The point I was trying to make is that I sometimes wish I could shut my brain off and just enjoy life, without overanalzying things.

In the words of Barbie herself, “Math is hard!” (Or in my life, “Linguistic response papers are tough!”)

The treadmill is going to eat me alive.

Who moved my vegan cheese? – Peace o’ Pie in Allston

Lingbo Li — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 05:59:33 +0000

In my free time, I like to club cows and steal milk meant for adorable, doe-eyed little calves from their udders.

No. Not true. But I do eat real cheese. I have no qualms about dead animals and animal products. But I did, however, eat at THREE vegan places last weekend, with no morals attached. I’ll talk about one now.

So how is vegan pizza at relatively newly opened Peace o’ Pie in Allston? Suprisingly awesome, that’s what it’s like. It’s right next door to vegan powerhouse Grasshopper (which I also ate at) and it’s a small, brightly lit and cheery spot that has a sign declaring, “Please do not consume non-vegan food in here,” or something like that. I mean, is it really that offensive if I bring in a latte? Ummm. Ok.

The key here, kids, is that the crust must really hold the entire operation. Vegan cheese, no matter how artfully made, will never even begin to approximate the salty, gooey, stringy pleasures of the real thing. (I’d say this slice could use some more salt to compensate for the relative tastelessness of fake cheese.) Peace o’Pie, in this respect, wins. Their crust is on the thicker side, a good amount of pleasant chew and crunch in the crust, and has a rich, organically-made flavor all its own. I’d say it could be a little thinner and have a bit of extra sauce, to add some moistness to what’s a drier pie with the fake cheese and all, but very good overall.

Their cupcake was also a surprising win, made moist with pumpkin puree and Earth Balance vegan butter spread. The crumbs were all melding into each other in the most fabulous way, with a wisely small measure of frosting since the cake batter was so rich. Who knew that vegan baking could be better than the kind that exploits cows? My friend happily inhaled two.

Also pretty funky: instead of parmesean cheese, you get a shaker with walnut crumbs and nutritional yeast. It tastes terrible on its own, but lends a bit of extra flavor that helps spice up the (relatively inoffensive but unremarkable) cheese.

The food blogger’s guilt

Lingbo Li — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 17:10:51 +0000

I found myself last night hovering over a bowl of neon yellow, cake batter flavored ice cream. It was delicious, in an artificially sweetened, bizarrely colored, stale cake bit-infused goop kind of way.

This contrasted with my diet-approved dinner of spinach greens, tuna, an orange, and chicken breast.

I had wondered, back in the spring, what food blogging would mean combined with my type A sensibilities and brief aspirations of pageantry. As it turns out, nothing much really. The only thing that really changes is the conversations around my food and not so much the food itself (perhaps boding poorly for my chances). I just end up talking about my need to diet rather than dieting. I’ve never been one to deny myself anything. A little bit of cake can’t hurt! Sure, go for that extra bowl of soup!

And if you put something in front of me that I’ve never tried before, well, just hand me a bowl and spoon.

I had a great conversation over tea yesterday afternoon with Alison Cronin, the reigning Miss Massachusetts USA 2009 who is, contrary to any ditzy stereotypes about beauty queens, very friendly in an accessible, normal kind of way. She posssesed a wry, self-aware sense of humor and gave me a few great tips: speedwalking, wearing nude or clear shoes during the swimsuit competition, and figuring out my strong points.

As for her own diet and exercise regime before Miss USA, she describes it as a lot of light protein and veggies. “I ate a lot of sushi,” she said. “Sashimi.” And two hours of elliptical and speedwalking a day.

Well, I can try.

Alison Cronin

International food porn – Quails on sticks, donkey meat, prawns.

Lingbo Li — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 04:27:41 +0000

Some underwhelming prawns at Private Kitchen 44 in Beijing.

Donkey meat in Beijing at Noodle Loft… like beef, but with a gamier, greasier mouthfeel.

A roasted quail on a stick in Chengdu.

Now with a bit of love.

$5 appetizers at KO Prime

Lingbo Li — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 20:05:16 +0000

In the theme of trying out economically-priced bar specials, here’s a tasting of KO Prime‘s Prime Time menu of $5 appetizers. Friend Crystal and I tried out:

Pressed Prime Rib Sandwich Secret Sauce	5
Steak Taco Cola Marinated Skirt Steak, Radicchio slaw, Avocado	5
Calamari Shishito Peppers, Yuzu Aioli	5

The prime rib sandwich was by far the winner – great, dressed up comfort food. The the citrusy yuzu aioli and katsuobushi (dried fish flakes, common in Japanese cooking) were a nice touch to the calamari, but I wish they’d been fried to a crispier finish. Coming in last was the steak tacos, which yielded mostly radicchio slaw, very little steak.

If you like offal, they’re known for having great odds and ends… so be sure to check that out. Oringer also owns Toro, which I am dying to go to so I can give their pig ear’s terrine a try (recommendation courtesy of Boston food writer MC Slim JB) and their crispy veal sweetbreads.

The Beauty Pageant Diet

Lingbo Li — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 02:38:36 +0000

I’ve heard rumors that South American beauty queens eat nothing but tuna. On MTV’s Real Life: I’m on a diet, one contestant ate only cottage cheese to drop the weight. I’m not about to do any such thing, since I also have to be a full time student, adhere to a workout schedule, intern, freelance, have a social life, sleep, and do a full slate of extracurriculars, but if I’m doing a beauty pageant “for the experience,” a diet is pretty much definitive.

My friends (bless their hearts) tell me I’m thin enough, but that leaves the question, how thin is beauty queen thin? I’d argue that no matter how thin I become, I’m chasing an ideal that’s more genetic than attainable through pure sweat and self-discipline. Despite my bone structure barriers, in this month leading up to the pageant, I’ll be trying out a lot more vegetables, cutting down on the carbs, and focusing on lean proteins like chicken breasts, scrambled egg whites, and fish, plus lots of water.

However, since I can’t eschew food altogether, I’m allowing myself to eat out twice a week or so. Some habits die hard. Unfortunately, I’ve been dealing with a knee injury so we’ll have to see how that affects my workout routine.

Beauty in the Miss USA sense, however, is daunting. This year’s winner, Kristen Dalton, is leggy, lithe, and has augmented breasts. (Her skin is also clearly airbrushed in this publicity shot.) She’s lovely, of course, but there still hasn’t been a full-blooded Asian who has won the entire thing which only makes the 8 year old in me more concerned that I’ll never really be American. I’m hoping that this experience – combined with being abroad – will combine to clarify my views on what beautiful, American, and the intersection of the two means.