All parents are delusional when it comes to their kids. We think they are the cutest, smartest, prettiest, most adorable...fill in your superlative of choice here.
Like all you totally biased moms out there, I think my son is the bee’s knees. I secretly believe he could be part genius. The kid can recognise his alphabets and numbers at 22 months! Surely that must be sign of high levels of intelligence? And he does the dardnest things and says the funniest things! Ok, sorry, I am gushing and showing off under the guise of blogging.
But I’m also a realist. I think my kid is pretty darn cute but in all honesty, he’s not going to win any ‘cutest baby in the world’ contest. Have you seen some of the competition out there? It’s brutal!
Besides, everyone can’t be the cutest baby. Someone has to fill up the middle range. And as long as he’s not scraping the bottom of the barrel, I’m cool.
As far as I’m concerned, all kids and babies are cute. How can something below 3-feet and speaks with a squeak not be cute?? But that’s just me.
The people at babyGap and GapKids are probably a better judge of who are the Miss Universe equivalents in the baby/kids world. And as it happens, they are having a casting call for the new faces of babyGap and GapKids.
So if you believe absolutely, positively that your child is definitely, unreservedly the top baby/kid then I’d say you should hot foot over to The Gardens or One Utama this month for a chance at fame and bragging rights. Click on the postcard for more details or go to the Gap Malaysia Facebook page.
Psst! I must warn you though that Z, my friend’s daughter, and R, another friend’s son, are really the cutest kid and baby around, and they are going for the casting.
My baby is THE cutest baby. No, really.
Morning mayhem and madness
Since the arrival of His Eminent Highness, order in the morning has become a thing of the past. And of course when it comes down to his needs versus mine, I lose hands down.
But one can only pull the disheveled chic look so much before the boss starts noticing. So I have had to be very clever about how to cut down the morning beauty routine yet still make it out the door looking reasonably put-together.
There is absolutely no science to this, I warn you. And it might come back and bite me in my wrinkled ass some day but here they are:
• I stick to basics in the morning – wash, moisturise, go. No toner, no exfoliation, no special serums or eye creams. The frills can be saved for the night when there’s time to lovingly pat in the anti-whatever creams and let them do their miracle work.
• Develop a 5-minute makeup routine. It’s not impossible, just takes lots of practice to get things down to a pat. Foundation that blends well, a good set of brushes and cheek powder are my best friends.
• Get bangs. Seriously. I’ve managed to shave another minute of my morning routine since I got bangs simply because they hide hastily plucked and drawn brows. Alternatively – and I’m seriously considering this – get eyebrow tattoos. Just think of the time savings!
• Skip the blow dry. It makes my hair frizzy anyway. I just towel dry, comb and smooth on some leave-in conditioner. Done. If your hairstyle doesn’t allow for this no-fuss routine then maybe you need a new style.
For better and probably more well-researched tips on beauty time savers, check out our November 2011 beauty spread on how to look beautiful on the go, Beauty in a Jiffy; get a sneak peek of this story on our website.
Playing SAHM
The house went into complete lock down last week because the little one caught the chicken pox bug that’s been going round. That means Mommy – and it’s almost always the Mommy’s job isn’t it? – had to take time off to play nurse-cum-slave.
Like most working moms, I’m always lamenting about how little time I have with my son. But this enforced week of playing stay-at-home-mom (SAHM) has been most revealing. In particular, the revelation is that I can’t be one – a SAHM.
The Prince isn’t angelic by any standards but he’s ok. And thank God, even when afflicted with chicken pox he was mostly manageable. In fact, he probably had more energy and enthusiasm than he normally does – and that’s already a lot!
All in all, I would say we survived the whole ordeal pretty well. We read, we played, we bonded and took naps together. It’s what I always imagined I wanted since he was born. It was a great week but every day? I honestly don’t know where I will find the strength, ingenuity, patience and all those other saintly qualities needed when dealing with a strong-willed 20-month old boy!
So while I envy the league of SAHMs for the quality time they have with their little ones, I’m equally glad to hang on to my job – with a death grip, might I add.
The curse of the working mommy is...
...a tummy. That unsightly blubbery bulge you have to suck in every time you wear Lycra.
I know officially we tell people it’s a war scar to be proud of. I bore a child/children. “Pregnancy was the most incredible experience I’ve ever had. So I’ll take the stretch marks. I’ll take the sagging boobs. I’ll take the cellulite I can never get rid of,” said Jessica Alba in Self magazine. Sure Jess. And where are those stretch marks and cellulite pray tell? Those? Please!
I love being a mom as much as Jess does but the truth is I would much rather be one without a lower tummy that walks ahead of the rest of me.
My mom was a svelte 48kg with a 23-inch waist line when she married my dad. Then kids happened to her. With each successive child, she kept more of her post-baby weight until she was a 20kg heavier than when she started. I think after that she just thought ‘Screw it’ and gave up.
Now, I swore I wouldn’t let that happen to me. I want to be a yummy mummy – or at least one that looked reasonably palatable.
But 19 months on, I am still looking down at my squishy bits. A desk job and toddler do nothing for your figure, I tell you.
My butt is glued to the chair most days (that’s another body part that is growing its own zip code!). I eat at my desk so I can finish up early to rush home to my son. Dinners are usually after 9pm when the prince has gone to bed. And then it’s bedtime for me too. Which part of this spells weight loss and tight abs?
So I’m resigned to the fact that these bits are here to stay. In fact, I’ve grown quite fond of them. Maybe when the boy goes to college. Then I’ll lipo myself into shape and go on a cruise.
Stop already!
If I wrote the rules on Facebook, you know what I would ban? Parents – specifically parents who go on and on about their kids.
I can accept it if Junior achieved a significant milestone and you want to share it with the world. First steps, first words, first tooth, graduation from kindergarten (though I totally don’t get that...but ask me again when my son gets to that stage and I may feel differently), passing exams with flying colours, made school prefect...
A period of illness followed by news of recovery are acceptable as are funny anecdotes of the dardnest things she said (a chuckle is always good). The occasional mundane but heart warming post about how much you love the princess is also ok lah – occasional being the operative word here.
Not so ok are daily blow-by-blow accounts of the little bub’s every move. “Oh, he pooped. Oh, he’s turning left and now right. Oh, he smiled.” The painful but honest truth is that NOBODY cares.
If you got nothing interesting to say, don’t say it! Just post up photos or videos and let the pictures do the talking. I promise you, you will get more ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ than all that nonsense rambling. And people will like you more...and maybe even unblock you.
Night out with Estee Lauder
Mr. Airique Soo (Managing Director, Hwa Tai Industries Berhad), Mr. Michael Liew (Chairman, Estee Lauder Companies Breast Cancer Awareness Campaign Committee 2010), Mr. Loo Kai Nan (Managing Director, Suria Meriang Sdn Bhd), Yang Berhormat Senator Datuk Maglin D’Cruz (Deputy Minister II of Information, Communication and Culture) and Puan Zuraidah Mohd Said (Chief Executive Officer, Menara Kuala Lumpur)
Dato' Yasmin Yusoff in matching pink
Guests and media (try to spot the Her World team!)
Lovey dovey
I’ve been married for all of five years so I don’t consider myself much of an expert. Practical person that I am, I’ve never bought into the romance song-and-dance much anyway. I would, in all honesty, be ecstatic if my husband bought me a vacuum cleaner for Christmas instead of diamond earrings! Really!The greatest love stories for me are those that survive the mundane and dull, the rigours of day-to-day living, the gradual softening of the middle and slackening of everything else. And when life is done with them, they still say it’s been the best ride.
We would be so lucky if my husband and I could have a story like Danny and Annie’s. Standby the tissues before you click here to watch it (http://vimeo.com/12562270).
Fashion victim
The other day I was caught in traffic behind a woman on a motorbike flashing her b**t crack. And since I was driving, I had no choice but to keep my eyes on the road – and the unintentional flasher. It was a long, long drive.I’m sure she had woken up that morning, pulled on her jeans, looked herself in the mirror and thought she looked pretty darn good. I’m sure she didn’t realise that her bits and bobs were a mere half inch away from being a public figure. And I’m sure those jeans (a low slung hipster, if I’m not mistaken) were either a size too small or just not the right fit for someone with her...a-hem...assets.
See, but she’s not alone in playing fashion victim is she? Come on, admit it! At some point you’ve been guilty of unwitting indecent exposure like VPL (visible panty line), peeping underwear, too-tight, too-sheer, too-whatever clothes, etc.
Now, I’m no shoe girl. I could get by with five pairs, I think. But I stubbornly wobble around in wedges even though I’ve to carry my 12kg son simply because my calves look fat in flats and sandals. I can’t even begin to tell you the strain this puts on my back but I have refused to give in to the voice of reason.
So really, the best of us fall prey to fashion’s whims and fancies. While I pray b**t crack girl burns those jeans, I shouldn’t be too judgemental – less I trip over my wedges.
Much ado about lists
I love lists. Well, more accurately, I love ticking things off lists when I’ve done them. Packing lists, to-do lists, shopping lists, things-to-do-before-I-die lists...Scratching something off makes me feel in control, competent, serene. It borders on exhilaration!
It’s sad, I know, that I get my kicks from something so mundane. But with so much to do and each day ending with more things being piled onto my to-do list, completing even the smallest task puts some power back in my hands. For that spilt moment, the overwhelming demands of life seem manageable.
Plus lists make life organised. If you can list it, you can do/fix it. Doesn’t that just ring with hope? Give it a shot. I might have a list addict out of you yet.
Tick Tock
Is it just me or is there too little hours in a day? I live in a perpetual state of conflict because of the lack of time.When I’m at the office, I’m missing my son back home. When I’m with him, my mind keeps wandering to mental checklists. At nights I lay awake thinking about things still outstanding on my to-do list. In the morning, I dream of sweet sleep.
I wish I had more time for long, meaningful conversations with my husband, take Mom out for lunch, gossip with my BFF and finally get started on that first season of Glee.
I look at other composed Moms with two in tow and not a hair out of place and can’t help but wonder enviously, how does she do it?
SHARE YOUR STORIES WITH US AND WITH AN EXCLUSIVE MAKE-UP SET!
Tell us how you cope with the demands of family, work and life, and you could win 1 of 3 limited edition Sothy's make-up set worth RM773 each. Comments should not be longer than 150 words. Inspired by the Havana spirit, the Sothy's make-up collection of sands reveals a natural and very mysterious woman…Golden, naturally tanned complexion, a halo of firelight on the eyes, liquid shine on her lips, a breath of coral on her nails: subtle harmony illuminates the face with warm and amber shades! Playing with shadows and light and terracotta burned shades, the collection of sands seems like a faraway Saharan dream. A sun-kissed make up collection from some exotic and distant land…
Just say thanks
Have you noticed that Asians, and particularly women, are hopelessly incapable of accepting compliments graciously?“You look great in that dress!”
“This old thing? No lah. I think it my arms look fat.”
“That was a good report.”
“No lah. It could have been better.”
“Your son is so cute!”
“No lah, he’s very naughty one.” (What has being cute got to do with being well-behaved?!)
When my cousin scored a whooping 9 out of 10As in her SPM, I said to my grades-obsessed aunt, “You must be so proud of her. 10As! So smart!” She replied, “No lah, she was just lucky.”
It’s silly, isn’t it? But it is so strongly ingrained in our culture and being that at the first chance of a compliment, we snap into self-deprecating mode. My resolve is to smile or say ‘Thank you’ the next time someone tells me I’ve lost weight (but really I haven’t) or have done a good job (although I know there’s a better story in me).
Don’t break up with your moisturisers yet
About a month ago, I decided to call things off with my trusty skincare brand of the last five years. Like a relationship that has gone sour, I woke up one morning and found my skin dry and taut. Hoping to literally save my face, I tried a repair serum from the same brand. My skin retaliated by turning hyper sensitive.In a panicked state, I cleared the bathroom shelves and rushed out to get a new range of products. And when that didn’t work either, I got another brand and for good measure, oral skincare. A few hundred ringgit and about five moisturising essence later, my temperamental dermis finally settled down to its usual self.
Retrospectively, I realise I had committed carnal beauty sins. Like expecting a product to work in three days or produce miracle results immediately. The fact is there are lots of great products but no miracle workers, as Dr. Schultz puts it so succinctly and clearly in this video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vQ4rduiq-7I). Take a listen before you break up with your moisturiser or date a new one.
To test or not?
I remember when I collected my SPM results. I was crushed. I was a couple of As short of my target. But that despondency lasted all of 10 minutes because I had a first date with this guy I had a hugest crush on! What’s my point? That a couple of tests and exams won’t kill our kids.Instead of abolishing UPSR, PMR and SPM, we should be looking at the education system and perhaps, our own attitude on the chase for As. My Mom had only one requirement of us – do your best. Ok, and maybe, don’t fail. Apart from that, there was no pressure to collect As and outdo Mrs Lee’s daughter. That made taking exams a manageable part of student life.
Besides, if you have read Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers: The Story of Success you’ll discover that success has a lot to do with discipline and rigours of practice and repetition. So if it’s geniuses you want to raise, stick with public examinations. It’ll do him/her good.
Older...and loving it!
Lately, I’m noticing my conversations with friends are filled with lamentations about getting old. “I used to be able to stay up all night. But now I’m a wreck the next day if I don’t hit the sack by 12am. Getting old lah.” “Went for a jog at the TTDI hill yesterday. I’m getting old! I thought I was going to have a heart attack right there on the hill.”At 30 plus (and some plus-plus!), we’re no spring chickens. Taut tummies have given way to blubbery mid-drifts. Child birth and/or long hours at the desk with fast food do not help. Cellulite has mysteriously appeared overnight and refused to budge. More wrinkle busting and skin firming potions are taking up residence on the bathroom shelves. And don’t get me started about ‘wings’! (You know, the flabby bits at the back of your arm.)
But 30-something is hardly over the hill (unless you’re 15). In fact, some would say life is just starting. Something about hitting the 3-0 makes you more confident and at peace with life and the world. Things settle down. You learn to let go – or just ignore. Emotionally and spiritually, this side of 30 trumps the other.
Honestly, I’m going to ever be crazy about ageing but I’m learning to view it through zen-tinted glasses. Besides, if Desperate Housewives, Sex and the City and my handful of fabulously 40 friends are to be believed, women are indeed like wine – the older, the better.
That’s just not very me
I’m sporting sparkling blue toenails at the moment. I’m really more of the conventional red, pink or brown type of girl. But my sister, B, pooh-poohed at them. And against my better judgement, I listened.You see for the longest time, I took my style cues from B and I guess old habits are hard to shake. She basically coordinated my wardrobe from the time I was 15 to my early working days. I had experimented on my own, of course, but whatever she chose always looked better and garnered more praise. So why rock the boat right?
Then one day we were standing in a changing room, staring at the mirror and I suddenly realised, B’s fashion direction just wasn’t working out. B is a Carrie meets Samantha. I’m a cross-between Miranda and Charlotte. It was never meant to have a happy ending.
I left my guru on her hill and for better or worse, fumbled about until I found my own style. Sometimes I feel I’m still fumbling but at least I’m discovering my own voice. Besides, B got married and moved away. I couldn’t possibly ring her at 7am in the morning to discuss wardrobe options (she would be busy picking out her husband’s tie and shirt combo anyway).
I suppose I could remove the blue polish but then again, they are a reminder that while it’s ok to ask for opinions, one should always know what works – and doesn’t – for one’s self. Besides, it’s kind of cute.
The parenting divide
There is a gross misconception that parents are snobby elitist. That we go around purposely excluding non-parents with our ‘war’ stories about breastfeeding, sleepless nights, teething woes, diarrhoea dramas and what-have-yous.The truth is it’s the non-parents who are cutting us out. My friends make plans to catch the latest movie – at midnight. Or they say we should do a girls get together – in Bali. “They don’t get that everything we do is four times the cost and hassle,” laments Chrissy, a mother of two, about her non-parents friends.
It’s not we parents except our non-parents friends to stop having fun just because we are now saddled with strollers and diaper bags. But hey, once it a while, couldn’t we lunch at a kid-friendly place where they give out crayons and activity sheets? That would be nice.
And trust us; we don’t always want to talk about school, discipline problems and where to score the cheapest milk powder or diapers. It’s just that you non-parents won’t let us get a foot into your fabulous, fun and free lives.
So cut us some slack won’t you? Lunch at Marmalade this Sunday? I’ll bring my own crayons.
City slicker
Last week, I discovered my quotient for the great outdoors is zero. The epiphany came to me in the middle of a durian orchard where my husband was undergoing his durian pilgrimage (non-religious and entirely self-imposed). We stayed in situ because he wanted to be enveloped by the scent of durian at all times and stuff his face with the King of Fruit all day. It’s a thin line between torture and pleasure.I should have been invigorated by the fresh air, breathtaking view and wholesome living. But my every waking moment was spent obsessing about...bugs. I swear an entire colony of ants was living in the room with us! No matter how diligently I swept, I would still wake up to find ants busy going about their ant day.
“It’s an orchard. What did you expect?” said hubby in between designer durians with names as peculiar as their scent.
I wasn’t always like that. I used to be quite the nature lover. My ‘Things to do before I die’ list includes climbing Mount Kinabalu, snorkelling in the Great Barrier Reef, rock climbing and several other clearly outdoorsy pursuits. Heck, I was even excitedly planning on taking my son for a home-stay programme when he’s old enough.
But as the durian orchard experience shows, I’m a hopeless city slicker too accustomed to the comforts of convenience. When on holiday, I want buffet breakfast with five different types of breads, in-room wifi, plush blankets, room service and all the usual trappings of hotel/resort living.
The home-stay is definitely out. But maybe Mount Kinabalu and the Great Barrier Reef are still possible – as long as there is a Hilton I can crawl to at the end of the day!
Me, a kiasu parent?
I’m a kiasu parent. There. I’ve admitted it.
But I’m not. My son is just 14 months and I’m already comparing him to his peers. “Joshua can count, you know,” I tell my husband. “And Pei Sze is doodling. How come our son isn’t doing these things yet?” I fret. Am I doing something wrong? Not giving him the right milk? Not spending enough time teaching him the finer things of toddlerhood?
Who is this crazy Mom-zilla? And when did I become her? Help!
To your hair stylist be true
For me, fidelity to my hair stylist is right up there with the Golden Rule. Admittedly, it is not always easy to find the one stylist you want to give your hair to forever. I’m one of the lucky ones. I have my Danny. We have such a secure relationship that I don’t even need to tell him
what I want done. I just sit, grab a magazine, sip on my cup of Chamomile tea and let him work his magic. I never know what to expect – Danny loves to experiment – but I always leave looking and feeling like a kabillion.
It wasn’t always like that though. I spent many years ‘dating’ all kinds of frogs in the hair world. My fault. I met my prince back when we were both free of greys and weighed quite a few pounds less. But the folly of youth led me to wander. I flirted with many but none knew my hair the way Danny did. After enduring yet another ghastly hair cut, I decided to go back to Danny with my roots showing. Danny, God bless his soul, took me back without fuss even though we both knew I had cheated.My cheating days are behind me now. To my Danny I will be true because the right hair stylist is like the right man or a best friend – irreplaceable.
Mr. Right Now will do too
Sara called last night to tell me that things are off with what’s-his-face. Technically, they were not dating so it isn’t a break up per se. But functionally, it might as well have been a six-month relationship – the dates, the fights and make ups, the long conversations late into the night. But what’s-his-face claimed he only thought of her “as a very good friend.” Whatever.
Are all the good ones really taken? I am sometimes tempted to think so. But then a wedding invitation will come from someone who had found love later in life – and in a most unexpected, romantic way that it makes you want to believe in love again. So maybe there is hope yet, Sara.
I peep over at my slumbering husband. The shining armour has long been traded in for the most unsightly T-shirts. Instead of taking me out for dates, he offers to check in on our son at 3am so I don’t have to. The flowers and gifts? They stopped even before we got married. But I’m still glad we had the last 10 years together. And that we didn’t have to sift through the complexities of dating in our 30s to find each other.Now, excuse me while I go wipe the drool before it stains the pillow cases, again.
New kid on the blog
“Eva, do you want to take over the magazine’s online mediums – blog, FB and website?” the boss asked a month back.
What? On top of my current work load?! How do I feign gratitude for this “tremendous opportunity” but really, no thanks? Mind reader that she is, the boss beats me to it. “It will be a new position. You’ll be the new Online Editor for Her World.”
Of course, I said yes! So here I am. Paid to trawl Facebook (and spy on others!), pass of idle Internet surfing time as ‘research’ and ramble, rant and rave. Don’t hate me because I’ve got a great job.
Love For Luxury
I can hardly deny that I myself have fallen victim to the obsession with designer goods, especially when it comes to bags and shoes. We can’t help it if our hearts skip a beat when we step into these luxury brands like Chanel, Fendi, Louis Vuitton, Gucci, or Ferragamo, just to name a few. You would think that even during these hard times and bad economy, brands like Hermes would be making losses. But instead, just last year, their sales moved up by almost nine percent! The power of a Birkin still lives on I say! What is it that still makes women cut back on groceries and other expenditures, just so they can save on designer goods? Are these ‘investment pieces’ women splurge on really for self satisfaction or to get noticed?
Doing things that make you happy
There are certain things about life that evoke happy childhood memories. How far would you go to relive these memories, even if it meant doing things like eating cotton candy in public at a bus stop, and you’re already 50?
Making Time For Me
Try to put exercise into the average person’s schedule and they’ll say, “I don’t have enough time.” Try to put ‘me time’ into the average person’s schedule, and they’ll say, “What’s me time?” ‘Me time’ refers to time for oneself to participate in activities that you enjoy, that provide you with peace and happiness, and awaken your senses. “No, I don’t think I have time for that.” Do you think ‘me’ time is necessary or is it a waste of, well, time? Share your thoughts.
Coming To Terms With Aging.
A while back I bumped into a former uni mate. He had gained quite a bit around the middle, and his hair was thinning. My first thought was, wow, we're getting old. I don't feel like I look very old yet, but I do have some gray hairs, and wrinkles around my eyes. I've also noticed that it takes cuts and scrapes (and mosquito bites) longer to heal than it used to. Are you comfortable with growing older or are you doing something to preserve your youth?
Is organic food really organic?
Most of us assume that organic food is the healthier choice with all the hype and things you read. But do you really know what organic means? A growing number of people are willing to pay premium price to eat what they consider to be superior products, especially when it comes to providing healthier alternatives for their babies. But take a closer look at the ingredients of a bottle of baby food in an organic store and you’ll be surprised to find even those contain preservatives and additives that are clearly known to have negative long-term effects on our body. So how much healthier are organics foods really are for you? And how many percent of it really is so called organic?
Age Appropriate Dressing…Boring?
Just because you are getting older does not mean that you have to dress in drab and boring clothing. But, you are getting older and it is no longer appropriate to dress in the same clothes as students in high school. You can still be fashion forward while dressing age appropriate. What are you comfortable dressing in at your age?
Saying ‘No’ Is Great!
Great organisations are defined by what they say no to. The same is true for great individual careers. A great career is one where the individual made the type of contribution he or she believed was the optimal use of his or her talents, passions, and values and generated the types of desired outcomes that he or she wanted. In other words, the person generated both the desired input and output. Manifesting such a career requires saying yes to a few key opportunities and saying no to a huge number of good, and possibly great, opportunities. What are your thoughts on the matter?
Does your ring tone really reflect your professionalism?
You’re in a meeting with the big shots of a corporate company. Then suddenly someone’s hand phone starts to ring. What’s worse about having to put up with an annoying ringing hand phone, is having to put up with an annoying ringing hand phone that has a Doraemon/ Akon’s I Wanna Love You OR Smack That song blasting out from its speakers. Would you say that hand phone ring tones reflect your professional value?
Danger On The Escalator
A young relative of mine had his left foot caught in an escalator last Saturday. He’s only three but had to endure excruciating pain for an entire 40 minutes before paramedics managed to release his foot. This happened at Centerpoint in Bandar Utama as his mother held his hand, ascending the escalator. His tiny foot had stood too close to the back of the escalator wall, that it was pulled ankle-first into and crushed in between the horizontal and diagonal surface of the mechanics. He was rushed in an ambulance to the Damansara Specialist Hospital where doctors performed surgery to stitch skin and flesh, and align his foot back into place. Three bones had been broken. Young and feisty Abdullah was lucky no tendon was damaged. Doctors say he will walk again in three to four weeks. What could have caused the accident and what could have prevented it? Do we ban young children on escalators or do we review the shoe model to see if the fabric had indeed caused the accident to happen? Hundreds of cases of have been reported in the US and Japan about young children experiencing escalator mishaps. And they all had one thing in common: they were wearing the same shoe brand. Reason to question style and brand name over safety and regulations? It’s about time.
Young At Heart
How far should you go to look younger, feel younger? Or should we embrace aging gracefully and face come what may? Share with us your thoughts and personal experiences about having to act your age (or not) with regards fashion, beauty and general outlook on life!
My Bit For The Community
We all try to give back to society but in what way? Is it about giving donations or more about giving time and effort? Is it about being chairman of a shelter home committee or about getting your hands dirty dishing out food at soup kitchens? Do share with us your views and experience where charitable deeds are concerned.
Her Say or His?
Decision-making in a relationship: To watch Oprah or ESPN? Whose hometown are we going back to this festive season? Who’s car to sell off in order to get a bigger car? How do you arrive at a decision when there are differing tastes/opinions/commitments in a relationship? Share with us your views and tell us how you find a compromise.
In The Name Of My Career
What would you compromise as you’re climbing up that corporate ladder? Family roots, relationship, house and home, lifestyle etc. What would be your priorities and where do you draw the line when you’re just about to break through that glass ceiling? Let us hear your opinion.
