Auntie-rama
I think that as I grow older, I am becoming more and more Auntie in my thinking and habits. Things I used to scoff at (due to my own impetuous ignorance as a teenager) when older folk did them, I am slowly starting to see the merit of. It’s kinda hard to completely describe this evolutionary process in me but I think some examples spring forth to mind immediately.
I like hanging out at kopitiams. Not only is the food cheap and good, if you go to the 24hour Kopitiam chain, you can hang out for as long as you want and make scintillating (ok, by a very subjective standard depending on how much candor you feel that day) conversation with the kopitiam aunties and uncles. You can watch soccer on SCV (most kopitiams have them now), eat peanuts and drink beer. Kan shiok! Now tell me if you don’t think that’s the life.
I like simple things. I absolutely adore wearing plain t-shirt (but I admit I prefer to spend money on good quality t-shirts which collars don’t wring so easily) and berms, complete with my cheap “cha-chat” slippers whenever I don’t have to dress up for the occasion. My mother thinks that wearing kaki shorts and slippers to Lawschool is an abhorrent habit and constantly nags at me to wear something more befitting a lawyer. I think I will let her nag abit longer for now. Chic and sharp Shenton Way garb can wait, I have another 40 years to wear it 5-6days a week.
I like simple pleasures. I like waking up a little earlier on Sunday mornings (not before 9am) to go to the kopitiam for traditional breakfast. Really thick kopi, two 2-min eggs and lovely fresh-grilled kaya toast. Kopi-siu-dai and teh alia are also considered shiokers for me. I also like to drink beer and eat freshly fried greasy chicken wings while watching soccer. It is a totally pleasurable activity that does not get the glam factor it truly deserves.
I am slowly starting to see the merit of Wu Bai. I mean, I've always acknowledged his integrity as a musician, but I never previously understood at the same magnitude, my bruddah Barry’s fixation with Mr Wu. Although give me Springsteen or Bob Dylan any day and understanding will come immediately.
I am slowly finding red nail polish less of an eyesore. I still am not able to countenance the fashion of fire engine red nail polish with fishnet gloves and ballerina tutu skirts (ala Madonna's disastrous wardrobe in the 80's) but darker shades of red (which some guy friends say look suspiciously like dried blood) are starting to appeal to me. This week, I even tried the slightly brighter shade of rosy red that my mother has been bugging me to try. (My mother is the funniest person I know. She buys me bottles and bottles of nail polish but never uses them herself. The problem is, she buys me all the Auntie shades)
I have started to appreciate the value of good skincare. Previously I was a toiletries whore. I would use whatever my mother found on offer in the pharmacy and put in the toilet for my brothers and I to use because that way, mum pays. I teased my elder brother for being more vain than me (as is my prerogative as a girl) and having so many creams to put on his face. I used to scoff at my aunties who would have facial mask parties and apply ridiculously expensive creams (some of them really weird smelling) onto their faces. I am still not able to find paying $200 for Pitera from SKII acceptable, but stuff from Lancome is ok for me now.
The fact that I am in my early twenties and I find such Auntie stuff already becoming acceptable is kinda triggering off silent alarm bells in my head. Will I turn out like my boyfriend's mother? The woman cooks, bakes, cleans and sews with jewellery all over her fingers, wrists, ankles and neck. I am surprised she does not make clanging noises like Enid Blyton's Saucepan Man from the Folk of the Faraway Tree. She blings everywhere she goes. Ahahahah.....