About Nude Not Naked

“Come over here,” Gabriella said, then waving her right hand.

I smiled and excused myself from my present company, a client of mine. We were all attending the Emma-Hamish-Gabriella-Marx farewell do. These were my chosen weekend party friends for more than two years and much closer friends in the last year or so.

I had either the choice of hanging around young girls and boys in Lola and risk getting pushed or hanging around this bunch of older friends, who were parents of young children - expatriates during the day and party animals at night. And I chose the later. It felt somewhat quite sad that they are leaving, because I felt close to Gabriella and she was such a joy to speak to. Emma was a dancing machine during weekends, putting me to great shame with her non-stop, pulling everyone up the bar top and podiums dance moves.

The party started early, at sunset. At 9 p.m. I started to shower and get ready. My laptop was playing Charlene’s I’ve Been To Paradise over and over again and it felt befitting the occasion. An email popped up in my mailbox and for the next hour, I was corresponding with Ian. He is a handsome fellow and writes extremely well, so you might want to take a look at his profile and his blog.




Never Ever
In between putting on make-up, crawling to the gmail mailbox to talk to Ian and checking myself out in the mirror, I managed to escape attending the farewell till very late at night. In my usual weekend clubbing attire, I walked into the grassy compound at about 11:30 p.m. with a bottle of Absolut Vodka in hand and to my remorse, I stumbled upon four clients among the sea of maybe 50 people. Not one, not two, not three but FOUR! Four clients while I was wearing this super tight, tits spilling thru the blouse weekend dancing togs. And the Absolut! The Absolut Vodka! I was mumbling "I promise, I am not a drunk" between the "Hi! So nice to see you here!" and "What a great surprise!", kissy kiss left check, right cheek and left cheek again.

I was so embarrassed. I was horrified. I was dumstruck. I have not been so conscious of myself in such a long time! It was not the same if it was just the group of mad drinkers and I. I did not expect any clients present there and wore a red/green bikini and a batik looking pink blouse with the widest and lowest neckline sewn into a blouse, paired with jeans and super high heels. The bottle of Vodka completed the look.

*sigh*

I must remind myself that I am not 20 anymore and the group that I am mixing with consists of mothers and their husbands; mainly Europeans and a few Americans. The Asians in the group had a European for a partner, with Mr. H and his girlfriend being the exceptions simply because they were fabulous interior designers and architects. The feeling of being eyed up by many white women was daunting and I promised myself NEVER EVER to wear like I did last night. What was I even thinking?! It was a farewell, so obviously many others (other than the group of us) were going to attend and all married women dressed nice and decent (meaning old, boring, sequin tops, decent neckline for the ladies *bluek*).




Yoga For Kids
This is a defining moment. To understand and know that perhaps it is time for me to grow up and dress like an older person. No more low cuts, bare backs and bare flesh pieces. Good bye cute babydoll frilly tops with plunging necklines, where three quarter of my assets are hidden. In its place, something more demure and befitting of my other friends, who are a little older than I. Actually "a little" is a little too little. Nikki is next up and she is 32. Then there are those like Gabriella who is 37, Emma about the same, I think.

I quite possibly could have called more than half of the men present "DADDY" because they were all in their mid 40s. Speaking of men, BGF is 40 this year and he is the youngest man in the group. He does not know what to talk to them during their macho man at the table sessions. So I guess he would understand what I must be feeling.

So long youth and carefree days. I am now talking about child raising, pregnancies and the popular play groups. Milk bottle, baby feeds, strollers and yoga for kids. They talked about how the hubby will dress as Easter Bunny and they had to go home early (at 3 a.m.) to hide the Easter eggs. Where the ladies grab their tummies, give them a good shake and joke about giving birth.

*wails*




The Next Five Years
And there in the middle of it all, was me with a rather beautiful diamond ring and a promise that my next five years will be more interesting than theirs. Of course I worry. I worry immensely that I would turn into this zombie, who is only capable of talking about fats and childbearing hips. I like myself very much the way I am, which includes arriving at a farewell party dressed in the most non-conforming blouse. And I am afraid that I will lose myself the moment I have a family. Like Stephanie, who was a beautiful tiny MAS stewardess. She is now a balloon, five months into the delivery room.

I am 30 this year and I know it is time for me to probably start thinking about my life and what I want to do with it. I do not feel ready for parenthood, the way many of these ladies seemed to be capable of. There are so many things yet to be seen and done and I do not see the possibility of doing them and being a responsible parent, work and be financially free all at the same time. I am not Super Woman, after all.

There is no conclusion for this post. There is no conclusion because I do not know what the conclusion is. All I know is that I am inching towards adulthood and I realise that it is quite possibly about time for me to start thinking about my future. Seriously. My mind's muddled, like ten thousand pregnant ladies just trampled on it and I woke up with a hang over.





Okay.

I miss Alex. I am going to call him right now and let him know that.

Till tomorrow, Happy Easter, folks!