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I’m turning 18! Again!

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I don’t recall since when birthdays start to bring worries, too. I supposed it began after the Big 3. Even when I was already at the wrong side of 20s, birthdays were pretty much just what to treat myself and where to dine.

After receiving the third strike from the guardian of time, the couple of months leading to September have always been peppered with moments of deep reflections. They surface out insecurities and disappointments that otherwise lie pretty dormant most part of the year.

Most of my woes are unfortunately just first world problems. The recent years of travelling have opened my eyes to see the contrast between the poverty and the privileged. I am a blessed child. I should count my blessings more often.

Signs of receding hairline and extra tyres around the waistline are common traits for the aging humanity. While they are the general acceptance for the majority, that doesn’t mean they need to be on the express train to the land of self-destruction.

Now that I live in Sydney, I grew old earlier. Luckily the weather here is cooler and hopefully provides some preservative effects to the body and the soul. At least a Sunday brunch here is not an intense affair like that of a Singapore food centre.

I still try to take the opportunity to wear new stuff. Birthday is still a good legitimate reason to splurge. However, I acknowledge that I need to improve the inner me more. My challenge is to start and more importantly maintain a healthier lifestyle. While I can’t get younger by age, I can have a younger body. It isn’t easy given that I have zero discipline but I’ll give my best shot.

Throughout the day, well-wishes flooded my phone and Facebook wall. I’ve been remembered by friends from all over. My friends, big and small, short and tall, rich and poor, are all beautiful people; at least in my eyes they are. As I always say, I’m attracted to good looking things only.

Now, I’m looking forward to having a good dinner with my best mate. Finally I’m at the same age as him. Every year, there is only that two days I can say I am younger than him. Being the senior one, he never fails to take care of me all the time and lavish me with luxury. I have him to blame for increasing my appetite for the baller’s palate. Today, I feel like I’m endorsing Gucci. But as a progressive being, I shouldn’t just stop here. Hermes, here I come!

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