If you asked me six months ago what's my favorite color, I would have answered, without batting an eyelash, that it's blue. For me, there's something regal in that color – an air of assertiveness, of power, greater knowledge, flexibility, and not something so sissies.
But today, I'm beginning to like pink – baby pink. Ouch! Something like an oxymoron for blue, isn't it? Pink is for sissies. It's too feminine, something for the meek – unimposing. But what can I say? I like it! Why? I don't know, I just started liking teen stuff, and most of them are pink. Could it be because I have a son and not a daughter and I wanted to buy stuff for pretty young girls?
I have two great theories, though. Firstly, this is the time wherein I could afford to buy all these cute stuff that I couldn't afford when I was still on my teens. Here's another one. You may call it my unconscious rebellion – defiance against the onslaught of time. With just a few more stretches, I would finish the first three decades of this life's journey. Yes, in the words of Jennifer Garner in the movie 13 Going 30, I am thirty, flirty and thriving – yet I still don't know what to do with my life. Why fret when people who were in their 40s still don't?
One of my very best friends said that the 30s today is the new 20s. So I guess I could say that I just got over my adolescent years. If the 30s today is the new 20s, then you could say that I flirted early (maagang lumandi). At such a young age that I am today, I have a son who will turn 3 in two months. My mom when she was at this stage already got two kids. Times indeed had changed. Maybe when my son's time comes it will be all together different.
From this moment on, if someone asks me how old I am, I'll answer the same way Mary Schmich, a journalist who also writes the "Brenda Starr" comic strip, does.
Like many women my age, I am 28 years old.
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