So I’ve officially moved back in with my parents for almost a year now. And its been an interesting journey so far. As far as I can figure out, I seem to have regressed to my 19yo self. The same person who left Singapore for the USA at the age of 19yo does not seem to have grown up at all. And I think part of the reason is that well, its so comfortable being home. Everything is done for me. My meals are all taken care of, the mortagage, the bills, etc are all taken care of. Yes, I work. But most of my paycheque goes to my mother to pay the bills. So I don’t even have to think about it. I don’t have to worry about the fridge being empty or go get groceries. Or worry that I may not have underwear to wear the next day because I have yet to do the laundry because everything is done for me.
And yet, I don’t think I’m entirely comfortable at home. Part of the reason is that this is my parent’s home. I can’t decorate it the way I want it or arrange things the way I want it. Nor can I have it as messy as I want it. I’m not a clean freak. Never have been. But my mother is. I don’t cook. Part of it is because she does it all. But the other reason is, well, I just don’t feel comfortable in her kitchen. So the usual things that I do to de-stress are no longer an option for me. Sometimes I wonder if the pros outweight the cons. Will I ever grow up? Or will I choose to stay 19yo because its more comfortable and because it seems to make the people around me happier?
I took a long hard look at my wardrobe today. Well, not a very hard one or a very long one. I opened the wardrobe and well, I realized that my current wardrobe is now a time capsule of all my clothing choices over the past 15 years. Yes, I do share my wardrobe with my mom but honestly, she wears mostly my stuff whenever I’m away. And yes, about 50% of my clothes are hand me downs from my college friend but they are hand me downs that I picked from amongst her castoffs so technically, they have become my fashion choices too. Anyway, I’m looking at it and I’m thinking that I really dint have much if a style of my own. I do tend to follow fashion trends all the time. I don’t know if it’s because I simply have no style or perhaps I’m just too lazy and following the trend is simply easier? I mean, honestly. Short shorts, mini skirts??!! For someone as rotund as me? What was I thinking? Don’t even get me started on the crop tops or the neon colored stuff. Ai yo yo! The only comfort I’ve found so far is that after 6 years, I can still fit into my graduation dress. Granted, it’s a bit snug, but that still counts as a win, right?
That, Internet, is a statement. Not a boast or a lament. Simply a statement. I’ve been working for a month now, 6 days a week, and have yet to repeat any outfits.
Imagine that! Somehow, all the clothes that I accumulated over the years in various countries have found their way home to Singapore. It isn’t that I have not done my fair share of pruning the closet. In fact, every time I move ( on average about once a year at least) stuff gets sent over to Goodwill or whatever charity bin happened to be nearby. But stuff that I liked so much for some reason or the other, ended up being stored at home. And I promptly forgot about them whenever I left again.
Well, now that I’m back, I’m going through them all, one dress at a time. And that’s only the summer clothes. The sweaters, thick woolly stuff are stored under the bed. Hopefully not getting eaten by creepy crawlies. And yes, I’m still of the philosophy that less is more. But given my current generous girth, my tendency to hoard, more, is still, more.
It doesn’t help that I live so close to the Expo. There are all sorts of sales going on every week. Take last week for example: we went to Changi Point to buy a pair of sneakers. My Tevas had somehow acquired holes where there should be none. After getting desired item, we thought to go to the Robinsons sale since they often have lovely biscuits on sale. I spotted the Island Shop rack and I’m afraid that my shopping brain took over and all hope was lost. I even ignored the drowning cries of my ego over the double digit dress size. In a matter of hours, half my pay cheque vanished. On the first day of the month no less.
I wonder if there is a twelve step program for compulsive shopping?
I’m beginning to think that patients here hoard medicines in the same manner that I hoard clothes. Even when they have no real complaints, they will willingly sit in a waiting room filled with sick people on their off day just to get ‘cough medicine’ or ‘flu medicine’. And apparently, people here think that rhinorrhea =flu. Sigh.
Life is funny. I used to think I would be able to write funny stories about my life. Then I realized that I’m not a good writer. And then of course, I also realized that I’m not a funny person. Nor do I normally see the funny in most situations. Right. I know I look too much into the past. I yearn for more innocent times. I know I should learn to appreciate my present. Yet, I can’t seem to find much pleasure in my present. What is wrong with me?