I have a confession.
On gimmick nights, I fall asleep in my gimmick clothes. I know. It's disgusting.My mother calls me "dam-ak" (Ilonggo for "yucky"). Countless are the mornings when I'd come down for breakfast looking like the aftermath of a rock concert : dishevelled hair, wrinkled blouse and smeared mascara. My younger brother will then break into song: "Return of dam-ak! Return of dam-ak!"
It's a shameful habit for a female raised on good grooming habits and beauty routines. While some if not most girls will muster up strength to at least brush their teeth, the only pre-bedtime ritual I have have the energy to perform is take off my shoes and turn off the lights.
Must be that all the schmoozing and boozing leaves me exhausted by the time I reach my front door.
Next time I paint the town red, before I leave the bar/resto/videoke place, I'll make a stop at the ladies' room and brush my teeth. So at least even if I fail to change into my jammies - which I most probably will - I'd be free of cigarette and onion breath. The rest of me may be "dam-ak" but at least my mouth's fresh and clean.