It’s Sunday, almost 5 in the afternoon, and I just finished ironing two days worth of office outfits. I would have done a week’s worth, but I’m PMS-ing, my migraine and early abdominal cramps are acting up.

I formed the habit, of prepping my outfits NOT getting migraines and cramps, just a few years back.

Before though, I’ve spent years of stressing over what-to-wear before I left for work; Years of feeling upset because the outfit I chose made me look fat, which then resulted to me ransack-ing my closet yet again in desperate need of a ‘better’ outfit; Years of leaving the house upset and grumpy because I was already running late, and I wasn’t 💯 okay with whatever I was wearing. I spent years of being miserable.

Reflecting on it now, I don’t know what took me so long to realize that I didn’t have to feel miserable (all the time). I realized that I was miserable because I saw convenience in choosing misery even in the most petty of things. It took me awhile to understand that I could actually turn things around.

Now, on Sunday afternoons, I spend a few good minutes, in front of my closet, taking mental notes of what to wear for each day. Then I scan the battlefield in front of me and start sorting a week’s worth of office outfits. And then, I plantsa.

Now, I surprisingly enjoy a task I used to despise. And more importantly, I’ve become less grumpy in the morning. Less. Baby steps.


I Need To Say This

I’m sorry, in advance, but what follows is a rant.

Today, at exactly four o’clock in the afternoon, I received my nth call from Home Credit (HC). In a nutshell, HC is a credit group that allows people, from all walks of life, to purchase electronics, home appliances, and in my case mobile phones, and pay in installments, with minimal requirements.

But no, I did not avail of HC’s services; A co-worker of mine did, and without my knowledge and permission, he made me his guarantor. When did I find out? When I received my first call. Let’s call him DCW, for Delinquent Co-Worker.

What burns me are three things.

First and most importantly, DCW did not bother to ask for my permission, much less, let me know that he will use my name and contact details in such transaction. When someone (S1) asks you for someone else’s (S2) number, it is only proper to ask for S2’s permission first, right? What more if you’re going to make someone your guarantor. Show some respect especially when you only know of my number because of work, not because we’re chums, not because we chit-chat, and certainly not so you can use my contact number any way you want.

But the damage has been done though, what matters to me now is the next step. A sincere apology would be nice, and a little bit more than, “Wag niyo na lang po pansinin pag tumawag ulit, Ma’am.” How can I do that when I keep getting calls because you are a delinquent debtor, and you conveniently changed your number.

Second, typical of collectors is their attitude. They will not listen to your explanations; they will not care if you were just innocently dragged into this mess. They will rudely talk to you, and persistently get a hold of you at any time convenient to them. Rudely. Typical.

And third, just a while ago after receiving the call from HC, I had a chance to talk with DCW. I was upset, but I was calm. But for some reason, I only ended up feeling much worse after the talk. I felt guilty when I know I shouldn’t have because I had nothing to be guilty about. I hate this.

To be honest, I find no shame in loaning or borrowing money. I don’t even keep an opinion on how and what someone chooses to spend money on. But I do take offense in being thrust into a mess of a commitment someone got into, and cannot and won’t own up to his responsibilities.

Come on. Grow up. Man up.


I’ve been obsessing about skin care for the past few months. It’s part of my “I’m turning 40 soon. Damn time I take care of myself” program. Better late than never. Haha.

The goal is to eventually go makeup free. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a huge makeup junkie. I just want a much healthier looking skin. Radiant. Naks.

Going back to dancing (exercising) helps, too – – – getting rid of toxins and unwanted extras. People close to me would know I don’t do diets. I mean, obviously (see my bilbil for easy reference). I exercise to keep active and to be able to eat what I want – everything in moderation.

More than the products I use though, more than the dance class I attend, I think, it helps best when I keep a more positive outlook in life; When I keep my stress-level at bay; When I choose to turn things around when circumstances are just plain sucky; When I choose to be kind, always; When I pray.

No amount of product can give the same gorgeous glow. The one that emanates from the heart.

And here I am now – – with a selfie. No makeup, no filter. Armed only with a refreshing Saturday morning sun, some liptint, and a heart filled with hope and love. ❤️❤️❤️

Reflection on Beliefs and Faith

Features and preparations for the feast of the Black Nazarene have been flooding the news since last week. 

It is worthy to note how most of the devotees that were interviewed are all asking the Lord or the Black Nazarene for something – – – a better life, a better job, more income, etc. None, of those interviewed, are there to give thanks. 

But the same goes even for some of us non-devotees. We tend to only remember Him when it’s most convenient for us, or when we need something from Him. Seldom do we find ourselves saying, “Thank you, Lord.” A habit most of us should have learned in Catholic school Kindergarten. 

While I have nothing against following age-old beliefs, such as what devotees do for the Black Nazarene, I just can’t help but ask and wonder about the following: Whatever happened to keeping one’s faith? If we asked something from the Lord, shouldn’t we just have faith that in His time, in His own way, though sometimes it may not be in the form that we expect, somehow He will deliver? Why do we have to go such lengths, as put ourselves and others in danger, just to be granted what we want and asked the Lord?

Same Time Last Year

I encountered a frowning lady cashier at the mall earlier. She wasn’t rude, but she wasn’t the common smiling amiable cashier I usually encounter.

Same time last year (I seem to have a knack for running errands on the second day of the year), I encountered another cashier just like the one today. The frowning, not uppity and cheerful kind. Last year though, I made an effort to cheer up the frowning cashier, and left her smiling. Left both of us smiling. 

This time around, I made no effort. I was polite, but I exerted no effort to cheer up another soul. Why? Because maybe I, too, need(ed) some cheering up.

I’m not down, as in Eeyore-down, but I’m not Tigger-happy either.

Sometimes, you simply cannot give what you don’t have. 

First of 2018: Believing in My Own Destiny 

Didn’t bother with round fruits for good luck. Wore black just because. Didn’t jump in the hopes of still getting taller – – as if. None of the usual superstitious stuff. 

Although I have nothing against such beliefs, its followers and believers, you have to admit, in the end, your destiny and fate do not depend on them. You make your own destiny. 

Resting Pet Peeve

Sometimes when I want to take a 5-minute rest from reviewing cases, I browse the internet. It’s my 5-minute update on what’s happening to the world and chance to answer emails.

And it’s also through those 5-minute updates that I’ve observed something about some of my officemates.

Some of them habitually go to my work desk, and casually, with no regard at all, snoop and comment on whatever it is I’m browsing on the internet, and they stay on until I’m done, or when I stand to refill on water, an excuse I do to make them stop. I find it kind of annoying at times, but yeah, it continuously happens.

But then it dawns on me, too, this does not have to be a pet peeve. For all I know, my officemates also have their 5-minute rests, and isn’t it flattering that they choose to spend it with me? Maybe they feel I’m becoming too antisocial. Haha. Gee, I hope not.

I wonder though if there’s a magnet in my work area somewhere, that attracts people here. My place has become the unofficial tambayan of sorts for people.