Age is JUST a number

I say I'm 27. Seriously.

I say I’m 27. Seriously.

When I was young(er), I used to think that people who were in their 30’s or 40’s were already old.

I grew up in the generation where the young ones realize and acknowledge the authority of elders, may they be parents, aunts or uncles, or parents’ friends.  As a teenager, I was close to my aunts, we tell stories and we laugh a lot, but never did I see them as my equal.  They were always “up there.”  They were older and I gave them all the respect that they deserved.  Though honestly, there were times when I didn’t want to hang out with them because it felt “uncool” hanging out with older people…

I was never really close to my mom when I was growing up because she was more of a figure of authority than anything else.  I followed and obeyed.  I never saw her as a “friend.”  Provider, yes.  Parent, yes.  But, buddy? Chum? Friend?!  As Tyra Banks would have said it, “Hell to the no!”

Besides, the age gap made it difficult for me to see her differently.  My parents — and their siblings — will always be older.  When I was a teenager, I had this thinking that they were already ancient.  Gosh.

I am in my late thirties now.  To be more precise, I am pushing forty.  Just saying that is making my heart palpitate.  In my young self’s eyes, I AM ANCIENT!  Panic time.  Gulp.  I. can’t. breathe. too. well. 

Thinking about it, I don’t feel too different.  I mean, I feel like I’m the same ME that I was as a teenager.  I have the same friends…  I dislike the same people (oh, grow up, girl!)…  I still like the colors pink and purple and all shades of violet…  I still like the same kind of music — or at least, I still DON’T like the heavy metal kind (gives me headaches), while classical music still makes me sleep…  I am still conscious of my weight — like I have been when I was infact 20lbs lighter… I still think my arms and thighs are big…

So, maybe I have matured a bit.  Maybe I look at life differently now, meaning I am not after the drama anymore.  I don’t get stressed easily now… though come to think of it, I was never really the ‘easily-stressed’  type.  I know for a fact that my personal experiences, both good and bad, have shaped me into who I am today… But somehow, for some reason, I still FEEL like I am the same person — same girl– that I was years back.  Twenty or so years back, to be precise.

I don’t really feel old.  Or ancient.  I am in my late thirties, but I feel young. I am the same Me that I have always been.

Now I realize that 30 or 40 is NOT old or ancient.  Gosh, I’m taking back the perception I had of my aunts when I was young.  I am there now… and I wouldn’t want my son or my son’s friends to think that I am not cool because I an older.

Age is JUST a number.  It’s who you are inside that truly matters in the end.

Uhm, can you please remind me of all these before I actually turn forty…  In case, you know, I start panicking and begin having my midlife crisis…  Sigh…

Maybe it’s about time that I accept — and admit– my real age.

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photo via google images

Mr. Ken Doll

Ken needs a Supergoddess Barbie

Ken needs a Supergoddess Barbie

He was a male model… He did tv commercials, but he mostly did ramp.  He was goodlooking — in a boyish way.  He was tall, he had this really dazzling smile… and a really hot bod.  He was like a Ken doll.

He was a good friend of a boyfriend.  Boyfriend used to do some modelling as well, so naturally he hang out with fellow models.  That was how I met Mr. Ken doll.

When boyfriend left the country, I stayed in touch with some of his friends.   When boyfriend eventually became an ex, Mr. Ken doll expressed interest in dating me… but didn’t really know if it was the right thing to do since I was the girlfriend of a good friend.  It didn’t seem right.  It was like crossing a boundary.

We did go out several times.  We talked a lot.  We laughed.  We flirted.  We watched basketball games together.  We talked about our favorites — his was carrot cake, mine was coffee.  We had a good time.

I liked being seen with him because he was a Ken doll… and I felt like I was Barbie.  I was living very girl’s dream.  I was every girl’s source of envy.

Going out with Ken made me forget about the heartbreak caused by long-distance boyfriend.  I thought being with another goodlooking guy will fill the void left by an ex.  In a way, it did.  It did make me forget… but only for a short while.

Somehow the thrill of being with Ken was fleeting.

One night, I just suddenly realized that Ken and I didn’t have anything in common.  I tried to dig deep to feel something towards him… some love or deep affection… yet I didn’t find any.  There was fondness, yes, but that was just it.  Nothing more.

Perhaps the only connection we truly had was the memory of my ex-boyfriend… his ex-friend.

We parted ways amicably.  No tears, no drama.  I never wondered what “could have been” because I knew Ken and I weren’t meant to be.

What I learned from the whole Ken experience is this:  You really cannot force yourself to love — or even just like, LIKE — someone if your heart isn’t there.  You cannot force yourself to feel a certain way towards someone.  Or even if you do try, in your heart of hearts, you would know that you’re not fooling anybody else but yourself.

Kissing Ken may have been fun, but it didn’t make me his Barbie.  He didn’t turn out to be my Prince Charming, too.  Good thing we were both mature enough not to pretend we were something we weren’t.

Some things are really just not meant to be.

It’s Ken’s birthday today.  And his real name’s Ron.

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photo via google images