When A Gal Becomes An "Auntie"

I think two most common worries that plague young women these days would be 1) weight-gaining and 2) ageing.

Young women are generally obsessive with this queer thing called youth, which first of all, cannot be defied since the beginning of human history, no matter how much skin-care sludge one slobbers on her face. To many of us at this age, ageing is a terrible thing, for we can see samples of “aunties” around us from whom all we know is that, we don’t really wish to be like them, and makes me contemplate the choice of killing myself the eve before my 40th birthday. At 40, the gal , no longer entitled to be called the gal in the first place, will have young unassuming people addressing her as auntie politely. “Auntie, would u like to try out our newest non-stick pan??” I would like to plonk the pan on your head if you dun mind, boy! At 40, you have probably gained fats around the waist enough to fuel your car for a 20-km journey from giving birth to those darn kids of yours. (Mom and Dad are complaining about the spiraling oil price again. Researchers should tap into the pool of obese people nowadays to come up with alternative fuel source.). And worse of all, u give up on how u look and carry a mop of curls on your head with pride.

Or should I say, everyone in this world is obsessive with youth. Some people have asked the question if Marilyn Monroe, or Princess Diana, the epitomes of sex appeal, and of sophistication, would be so lovingly remembered by the people had they died at a ripe old age of 90 instead of 36. Oh, Lady Diana, she was so graceful and beautiful when she was young, but looked like a withered prune in her coffin. Imagine that. People will always remember u as for the person u are right before u die, no matter how glorious your past has been. Look at James Dean, the everlasting legend, who still waves magic with his alluring rebellious charm even he has died for 50 years. His span of stardom during his lifetime was not very long, but you can say that he died at the right age, at 24, during his PEAK of youth and captivating charms.

One thing, however, I did realize with some matured women , esp those in the late forties and thereafter, as with my encounters with a few of them in the clinic and in the shopping mall today, is that they some of them indeed feel empowered, and feel authoritative and in the position to throttle us young-bies with that I-know-it-better-so-u-better-listen-to-me air. This lady I met in the clinic had obsessive-commanding-syndrome and the natural flair to be a disciplinary mistress and this sales lady at the lingerie shop couldn’t wait to tell me more about my own boobies which she thought that I ought to . Both shall be elaborated upon only tomorrow for when it comes to matured women, I think I have my share to say and this post is getting a bit too long, and better say it before I turn into one myself.

*To Leeps: today is ur birthday, u tot that i forgot huhhh...haha. Anyway, Happy Birthday ,woman! Will sms u after this right away. hehe.