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There was no plans, no wishful thinkings, no expectations…


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As I turned around to look at the reflection of my unkept self, there was no sleep deprived eye bags, open pores, messy hair and grumpy morning Faye. All I could see was a girl turned 18, in her ratty old sweatshirt, with all the burdens of being a debutant.

All my life, I have always wished to turn 18… an image of young woman exuding elegance, flare and beauty. I constantly found myself counting the years until I turned legal. Then suddenly, years turned to months. Options were made on how I would want to spend that single day of my life to make it the most unforgettable turning-of-age celebration noone ever had. Very cliche. But as the months turned to days, I would have sudden visions of me with sagging eyebags and laugh lines.

I was getting old.

I tried to grip at the clock hoping against hope that I might slow down the running pace of the second hand. I wasn’t ready yet. No, I still didn’t want it yet.

It’s funny how people would wish for something their whole lives and when they are given a chance to have it, they realize that they actually didn’t want it that much.

So as I tried to catch my first subject in the morning, I tried not to think too much of how I was now a voting citizen of my country and I can now be actually regarded as a lady.

My classes went by uneventfully which I actually liked. (-^_^-) There were the constant greetings and taunts para manlibre from classmates, friends and relatives. Nothing beyond the ordinary. Then, my first surprise came.

It was on top of a pink mushy whip of icing held in a cup with matching pink little hearts sprinkled on top. Hairbands, songs, 00:00 A.M. greetings, letters… I was always utterly predictable. I was never hard to please. Nonetheless, I always welcomed special gestures. That is why when I saw what Via called my “18th candle,” for the first time, I actually found myself ecstatically happy (redundancy ba?) being the debutant. I was the center of attention… I was being sung at… I was the special girl (I can still not muster the courage to call myself a lady) surrounded by very special, unique and adorable friends (mabalinak mangabak ti 270M nen,hehe)… I was the birthday celebrant.

All the pressures of being the debutant flew out of me as I blew my first candle and even though I wasn’t able to get a taste of my first cupcake, I still thank Via a lot for being the sweetest girlfriend ever.

And so, without any particular plans, we found ourselves meeting in a restaurant, two hours late, eating dinner, tying cherry stem knots and waiting until we were the last customers in the restaurant. One idea after another led us to a bar, drinking Frozen Martini, singing our lungs out, dancing, making dedications and finally, sipping our last glass of alcohol before retiring for the night. Those who slept over found themselves interrogated by yours truly and finally, dozing off.

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If there is such a thing as “pre 18th jitters,” what do you call its aftershock? As I bought my birthday cake that I promised my little brother, the day after, I can’t help but to recall my first night out as an adult. There I was, in a dress, all glammed up for the night. However, looking back at the faces smiling at me, there was that one other person missing in the picture. Where was he? And why wasn’t he there at such an important day in my life? But then again, I had no time for any regrets whatsoever. I still had another celebration with my family.

Wanna join?



XOXO
=fhatz=