After more than a month of wearing dresses, squarepants, and all things chic because I felt the need to dress my age (my style has always been juvenile and has not changed since high school), I conclude that denim jeans are the least comfortable clothes ever. 

Okay, the "need to dress my age" part is not true at all. I was, honestly, left with no choice because all my clothes are still in the laundry, and that includes all the four jeans I have.

I finally understood why some women do not like wearing jeans. All this time I was led to believe that these closet staples are the comfiest, being conservative and non-restrictive to movement, but my whole life has been a lie.

I love how this hangs like a skirt but is actually pants. I hope this style lasts a long time because I'd like to make it my closet staple like how I did with jeans.

I know I've made bad life choices when I was young that I regret until this very day. Plucking and shaving my armpit hair when my mom told me to leave it alone, for example.

The years of plucking and shaving left ugly, tiny bumps on my armpits that would not go away no matter what product I used. For someone who prefers to wear tank tops, sleeveless shirts, or anything presko like me, it feels better to forget about covering up the problem area and simply wear whatever I want. So despite all the products that failed me, I never gave up and found ways on achieving that smooth and beautiful underarm.

Raise those arms with confidence! (Also, the lights and camera settings make it appear I'm fair-skinned. I am not.)

"Miss, may bigger size kayo nito?"

"Ilang taon po ang susuot, maam?"

"10."

I lied.

I remember during my freshman year in high school, I saw a batch of seniors who were standing in neat rows under the heat of the sun. They looked cool in their combat boots and fatigue, except, they were more like puppies to me than soldiers. They're pretty good at obeying commands. Sit, roll over, drop and play dead, or whatever the commanding officer tells them to. I watched them every Friday and told myself I've already been potty-trained since 2, I don't need new tricks, and I'm never going to be a trained pup. And the only way to elude the comedy and horror of Preparatory Military Training (PMT) is to be part of a varsity team.

Sarah, we care about you and the memories you share here. We thought you'd like to look back on this post from 8 years ago.

Damn! I hope Facebook will stop "caring" because On This Day memories usually remind me of the bad decisions I made, people I'm no longer interested dealing with, and the dumb things I hope I never posted.

On the flip side, some memories are indeed worth looking back. This photo for example:

One thing I hate about driving is getting through traffic. So I rely on music to stretch my patience and keep my cool. Right now, if there's one thing I get excited about driving, it's going to be this: