October 09, 2012


I have a few cocktail parties and gallery opening to attend starting next week and yes, my calendar is slowly getting filled up.

After packing at least two balikbayan boxes full of old clothes and shoes, I realize my closet has gone dismally inadequate. The last dress shirt I bought was three months ago --- a crisp white dress shirt from *gulps* Marks & Spencer.

(This is how I normally roll - work to cocktails)

I'm most comfortable in jeans (mostly raw), paired with a crisp white or pale dress shirt and brogues but I just can’t wear them to all the occasion I am invited to. My navy and black suits are not bad at all, and thank god they don’t make me look dumpy, dowdy---wide across the hips and lumpy in the middle.

A lot of clothes off the rack usually tend to emphasize everything I hate about my figure – thank god for my trust tailor and friends who are honest enough to tell you how much that shirt makes you look like Gumby or that pants make you look as if you have a double mangina (aka. Man vagina).

(If only Sid Mashburn  isn't 2,468.9 miles away from my side of the pond, I'd be there in a jiffy)

So, yes, I'm 30 years old, still whine about how my clothes fit and why every centimeter matter.

Should I get myself man spanks to keep my flabs from completely spilling out, and to keep my mushy abdomen in check? I guess I'll just reason through the psychological implications of this decision later.....much later.....

Hold on: Muchas Gracias José Fons Guardiola por presentarme a Antonio Rodríguez ayer por la noche. This rarely happens but yes, still kinda starstruck - Qué vergüenza!

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