Maturity

Maturity has manifested itself in several ways this week. Bis has turned 5, in human years he's 35 years of age. Certainly earned his "maturity" tag. It's been 5 years, yet I still remember the time I first saw him as a 3 day old pup at the breeder's home in Melbourne. He looked like a tiny hamster then, only palm sized big. Now, he's like an old man in many ways - eccentricity, attitude, even the belly paunch, the resigned sighs, the white hair. Iggies live an average of 10 years, 5 more good years left. I can't imagine when the time comes, no doubt I will be immensely sad.

Maturity as I look at myself, my wrinkles, my deep laugh lines, the saggy jowls, the worn out joints, backaches, neck aches, muscle achesl, white hair. Saggy boobs - once my pride and joy....ah well, things eventually always go south. Considering I might have another 30 years, things aren't looking so uplifting at this point. Maybe I should join the crowd in using the services of a good aesthetic physician. :P

Maturity in my dressing - wahlau, my wardrobe still has clothing from like 8 years ago, which I fondly had to wave goodbye as in my objective to become a more trendy fashionista, I have to stop dressing like AUNTIE. Ironically, I have joined the AUNTIE ranks as yesterday whilst passing by Isetan on my way to the supermart, I spied a sign that said 70% off jewellery. I am now the proud owner of some rather ostentatious looking bling blings. I have joined the crowd in showing off rocks on my fingers. Well, at least I've not reach the extent of getting some rather obiang-sized blings (there were a couple of oversized eye-blinding blings at a very good price). I might either get robbed, or fingers chopped off, or bosses will think I'm being overpaid. As in all typical auntie-hood, the blings are not really real of course, I mean, they are real enough blings, but synthetic rather than of mother earth. i.e. I am el cheapo. Wahah.