Money can’t buy happiness but it can buy a trip to the spa. And I say that’s close enough.
I spent a gooood one and a half hours being rubbed, kneaded, soaked and cleaned. I felt fresher than spring’s first daffodil, glowing like a cliched pregnant woman, until I got smothered in a crowd of cigarette smoke and sweaty pits at the Chingay Parade. I was expecting some cool floats and what not. Instead I saw some shabbily dressed teenagers crooning miserably to “We will rock you”. But hey what do I know?
Since friday night, in the words of my 18yo baby brother, I have kept my tummy very happy. This involved a scrumptuous Indian spread on Friday, Pad thai and Prego’s lipsmacking Tiramisu on Saturday and my very own inventions on Sunday. In other developments, I was able to study for a cumulative 60 minutes through the weekend.
But the thing that I liked the most about this weekend was that someone my mom’s age called me “A good girl”…and it really caught me unawares. And that’s because I never made an effort to put on an act. I probably bored the hell out of her by showing her all my color-coordinated accessories, shoes and bags. I even told her money was the top priority in my life!
Its nice when people can see through your cover. Its especially nice for someone who is as grossly misjudged as I am. I’m sure we all are at some point or the other by someone or the other. And usually, its really not worth wasting your thoughts on someone who doesn’t make an effort to understand you before writing you off. Usually being the operative word.
But its okay to gloat a little over a genuine, sweet compliment.