Turning Eighteen

I can't believe I will be having a debutante daughter in barely a week.

Opo, ako nga 'yan!

Wasn't it just a few dreams away when I held my own debut party at our house in Las Pinas? 

Life wasn't complicated then, as was organizing thing-a-ma-jigs like these. Just set up some music at one corner of the house, dim the lights, make sure you have pica-pica on the table, invite your friends over--and you have a sure hit of a party. I remember I was wearing this baby pink tafetta cocktail dress, which I thought was the most gorgeous dress my mom could afford. (Blech, looking at it now, it's the most hideous dress ever!) Judging with the way I was smiling, I was the happiest person on earth that night.


Nowadays, organizing a debut could equal the scale of a wedding in preparation, and of course, in financial damage. My events organizer friend gave me a run-down of what's included in today's typical debut package: a dress or two for the debutante, cotillon practice, venue, food, sound system (or if possible a featured live band), flowers, cake, video presentations, give-aways, etc etc. She said that teenagers nowadays are much more creative in terms of themes and stuff, which also translate to their parents digging deeper and deeper into their pockets.

Thank heavens my Issa Maria doesn't want any of those trappings. Aside from being practical,  she sometimes verges into scoffing at all things romantic and schmaltzy. She's just not into cotillons, and eighteen wishes, and fairy tale balls. She said she couldn't imagine getting all the sentimental attention from other people, what more dancing waltz with boys,  who all look like chicken heads to her anyways.

What she wants for her gift is to take a trip to Hong Kong again. She said she wants to view the world, this time, with her 18-year-old eyes.

Hong Kong, wait for us on September 8th.