Happy Birthday Patricia :)

I don't know if its right to write this at 10am on a Tuesday morning, before I do the tons of stuff I have to do -- but what the hell. I need to get this all out before it spoils my birthday.

It all started yesterday when my mother commented on what I was wearing. She hated it. I was in a blue-gray cowl-neck a-line dress that I wore as a top with black semi-cigarette pants. I was in suede black flats. It was obvious that I've been wearing it for a while and the collar didn't keep its shape. All throughout that afternoon together, she went on saying I should throw the dress away, and that it looked like basahan. She knew I was reading Nina Garcia and asked why I was still wearing what I was wearing in spite of what I was reading.

So this morning, I dreaded having to choose what to wear. I was late already, and honestly -- I knew I had nothing good to wear! Everything looked old and worn out. Or too big (I lost weight). Or in a style I was fed up with. Anyway, the worse part was, the memory of my mom ripping my clothes apart yesterday filled my mind and, well, hurt me. It made choosing even more difficult.

I guess I felt humiliated, I guess any woman would feel that way if somebody told her what she wore looked like basahan. I wanted to get back at her and tell her that she wasn't perfect either - and started to think of all her faults. But that didn't make me feel better, because this wasn't about her. It was about me.

But in spite of it being painful, I realize she was right. She didn't say this in front of a crowd, so I guess she did not mean to hurt me. She was just giving feedback, the only way a loving mother would -- strongly and honestly. I really HAD to throw that dress out. I wouldn't if she didn't knock me to my senses yesterday. She knew I was procrastinating deciding to take the horrid thing out of my closet -- and so with the other stuff still there. I guess I'd rather my mom tell me, because no one else would. Or at least no one I would listen to.

I've always wanted to look good. And I believe I do, and clearly make an effort to do that. I admire women who make the same effort -- even if they make it look effortless. It's not about vanity, it's about valuing oneself enough. It's telling the world that "I love myself, and I want you to know that". I guess I got hurt because I was having a hard time accepting that I made a mistake, and I fell back on my promise to look good. That's the truth, and the truth hurts.

So there, I've accepted that. Now its time to move on from here. It's comforting to know that it's ok not to be perfect - because we all are works in progress - and that's exactly where the fun is. I've forgiven myself (clap!clap!). I don't want to take myself too seriously.

It's my birthday tomorrow, and I'm choosing to celebrate this work-in-progress. In spite of my fashion victim moments (and there were many, haha), my lutang episodes, my bad habits and my other imperfections, I really, really, REALLY love who I am and the life I've created for myself. If not for these mistakes, there wouldn't be anything to laugh about (I'm laughing alone now like a crazy person), or to struggle with and grow from. These imperfections are what make me human, these are what make me beautiful, these are what make me ME.

Happy birthday Patricia, job well done. I love you :)