The Tell-Tale Signs of Age

Lines and crinkles aside. As it dawns upon me that the wilful 18-year-old days were long gone, and that I'm 26 going 27 in no time - I also realise the significance of what age has done to me.

First, the tastebud changes. What was once queer and beyond my belief that it was befitting for consumption is now norm and, erm, I hate to admit, quite tasteful. It started with accompaniment of sliced red chilli with noodles, zi char and porridge. Then it was brinjal (I simply love it these days) and more recently, over the last 2 years, lady's fingers. Perhaps the next things I might welcome are ginger, coriander and raw cucumber.

And then, subtly and slowly, temperament, personality, preferences and appearance were transformed. While the core self remains recognizable, I can't say I'm still as noisy, as loud and as touchy. The kilos has caught up and the psychological exercise of "THINK SLIM AND YOU'LL BE SLIM" just refused to work. But the red-head acne is gone and overnight, many neighbours started commenting to my mum how pretty her daughter is these days. (Learn the trick - dress lok kok most of the time. The impression impact will come full-force when you dress up on rare occasions!)

People around me start to change too. My mum's less fiery these days but my father is getting 'crazier' each day. It feels like only yesterday when my brother and I had pillow fights, and I must confess I still feel guilty over shouting into his ears when he was 5 and passing him a glass of urine when he was 6! And look at him now - skinny, pimply and with a galfren.

I hate to think my 20s will soon be a decade I can only reminisce, but I sure look forward to a wiser, surer and more stunning me inside out.