Life begins at —

say, what??!

I am turning _ _ this year.  Geesh, I can’t even say the magic number.

My birthday won’t be ’til the last month of the year, but for some reason, I can’t help but dread it.  I know, I know… we should be thankful for all the days that we are blessed with.  In fact I am grateful.  I truly am.

I also know that wisdom comes with age.  The older we get, the more experiences we have, and the wiser we become.  Ideally, that is.

Why then am I not rejoicing nor broadcasting to the world that I am turning so and so years old?  Shouldn’t I be proud of my age?  Am I not happy with what I have become?

When I was young(er), I used to think my aunts and my parents were ancient.  At my age now, I’ll die if my son’s friends would think I’m ancient.  I will probably ban them from entering my house forever.

i wanna be a pink fairy

A lot of times I still feel like a little girl — okay, maybe not so little, but I do still feel like a young girl inside.  I still like watching girly-girl shows.  I still have movie star crushes.  I still like to giggle and play tricks on people.  I still read trashy novels, watch feel good movies.  I can be so juvenile.

It’s when I have to make decisions for the family that I get to remember that oh, yeah, I am an adult.  I have to have good replies to my son’s questions… I have to be firm and consistent with my decisions and I need to be a good role model to the kids who look up to me.   I cannot keep on running to my parents for help.  Lest I forget, I am now the parent of someone.   I have to have my own answers.

Getting old is scary.


my manual

I am a vain person.  My family and friends know that.  I take extra care of my appearance… I can take long hours in front of the mirror primping myself (and not get tired).  I spend a lavish amount of money on moisturizers, lotions, eyecreams and the works.  One of my biggest fears is looking old and wrinkled.

Lately I have been obsessing about that, too.  The fine lines under my eyes that I never noticed before just seemed to have magnified overnight.  I am getting more and more conscious of what gravity is doing to my skin, to my body.  And the more conscious I get, the more expensive my beauty regimen becomes.

I am old and shallow.  Now I feel worse.


Age is just a number.  I have heard people saying that time and again.  I even blogged about that before (in my other site).

Deep down I know that getting old is not a bad thing.  We will all get old anyway and there’s no defying that… unless we die young (which is a morbid thought).  I know I’d rather grow old and experience lots and lots of things.

I also know that birthdays signify beginnings.  It shows us a promise of better days to come.  The past is over and done with — nice to remember and learn from, but the future is waiting for you to discover and learn yet more things.

Maybe I should celebrate my turning _ _.  Maybe I should change my perspective and be excited about it… Show the world that I have reached this age (looking ten years younger.. haha) proud of what I have become, and expectant of more that is to come.

Perhaps I should bear in mind that life begins when you actually start living it.


Postscript:  I cannot promise that you won’t hear any more whining from me from now until December regarding my age issues.  Apologizing now.  Please bear with me 🙂

Birthday gift, anyone?! 🙂


photos via google images


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