Goodbye forever to the street urchin years

Dad was in a generous mood today, so he took me and my sister and my mom shopping. We first went to a thrift store (ukay-ukay, but air-conditioned) owned by one of his friends, and among other clothes I bought the most adorable blue dress. I look a little young in it, but I don’t care. The dress is rather pretty, and so was the price. I can be very cheap at times, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I enjoy frequenting ukay-ukays every now and then. What I like best about thrift store shopping is that the clothes you can find in there are 100% unique. And it’s not true that all thrift store clothes are flea-ridden.

It was sad because I saw this really nice khaki coat that I wanted to buy very much. But of course I didn’t because I would have no use for a khaki coat in this country. As I left the thrift store I thought, “If I had gotten accepted into Sarah Lawrence, I would be walking out of this store with that coat inside this plastic shopping bag.” *sigh*

After the thrift store, we went to Designer Depot. I thought that now would be a good time to start revamping my wardrobe by buying casual, preppy-ish clothes. It took me a long while to find anything I liked though. Don’t get me wrong; the selection at Designer Depot is great, but most of the tops they have are the kind you wear to parties or gimmicks. Not at class. I did manage to find this really pretty halter sundress and several simple-looking tops. I wanted to buy a certain pair of jeans but as usual, my size was out of stock. My size is always out of stock.

It’s weird, though. A year or two ago, I would never have bought the clothes I picked today. I would have thought that they are too plain, boring, and ordinary-looking for my tastes. Now, I don’t really care about standing out or expressing myself through clothes anymore. I’ve stopped looking at the clothes in Defect. I actually want to blend in and look like everyone else now.

Thinking about my change of preference in clothes made me feel quite old. It didn’t help that we passed by this congested slum area on our way home. As we drove along the road, I noticed that 60% of the people on the street were children at play. Some were clothed, some were barefoot, some were naked. (Why did my digicam run out of batteries today?!?) As I watched them jump rope, chase each other, or buy junk food at the nearest sari-sari store, I couldn’t help but envy them. Ten years ago I did my fair share of playing in the streets, climbing up unfinished townhouses, and laughing in childish abandon with my neighborhood friends. Every summer afternoon, I would be on the streets at 3 pm until 6 pm. Without fail. It saddens me a lot to think that I am now too old and too big to even play in a playground.

I can’t believe I’m seventeen. Next year I will be of legal age. I wish I were a kid again.

(P.S. This is what I do when I’m bored.)

(P.S.S. Whatever happened to Fran?)