This post has two parts, but they’re two parts that go together. My apologies for the one week lag–I’ve been busy fixing my site and running errands.
So part uno–let me talk about my trip to Boracay last weekend.
So I flew in from Manila with my officemates early on a Saturday, with a tuna turnover from Mrs. Fields, two sets of Bikinis, and a luggage filled to the brink. Since the resort was at the tip of the island, additional transportation was needed; Shangrila had a nifty speedboat waiting for their guests at the dock, plus this weird drink that I didn’t bother drinking (it tasted like guava and coconuts combined).
The resort’s lobby was astonishing, gorgeous, and photogenic–with infinity fountains, comfortable wooden seats, tribal fixtures, and ostentatious statues at every corner. I’m making sad faces right now because I wasn’t able to bring my camera, it had just arrived five hours prior to my trip and needed to be charged. Check-in was pretty quick and hassle-free; the room had everything that I hoped for: a ginormous LCD television screen (that wasn’t used all-through-out my stay), my own study with an internet cable, and an Ipod dock I (over) used whilst relaxing in the tub. The bathroom was awesome–but the best part? L’Occitane freebies!
After ten minutes of being holed up in the room, I decided to go to the gym. No one was there so I decided to run in the treadmill in just my sports bra (and sports shorts, duh). Thankfully, no one was there to give me a reality check and tell me, “you don’t have washboard abs honey, just a muffin top.” I bet the front desk attendant was too nice to say anything.
By the time Lunch rolled in, I was super eager to get off the island–I was bored off my eyeballs and the beach was terrible; the sand wasn’t as fine as the one in the main island and the only people out in the open were those above fifty. Unfortunately, I was informed that the shuttle would only be available in a matter of two hours and not wanting to suffer through hunger pangs, I decided to order an overpriced meal that was neither filling nor good. It wasn’t bad per se, just not the best–the price didn’t justify what was prepared. I’m a cheapo, I can’t help it. After a long while (more than two hours mind you), I was finally able to get off the resort to meet my officemates.
Photo Credits for the Boracay Set: Elma Martin
If you must know, I included the last photo because it was the only photo that had my entire body on display. Plus, I think it looked awesome there. If there were more photos and if I had to post them here, then I’d have to introduce you all to Tina the talking tummy.
After the short trip to the main island and dinner at Pancake house (a tower of pancakes for dinner, a club sandwich, and fried chicken–that’s Tina requesting right there), I spent the remaining hours playing the game of Life, shooting hoops, playing rockband at the resort’s Entertainment Center, and tweeting in my room.
Fast-forward to the next day, I had the world’s oiliest breakfast buffet, which probably gave me enough calories to last for three years. But I’ll let it pass as I really like bacon and pancakes (yes, I had another tower). By the time lunch came in, I was still swimming in cooking oil so I decided to skive. Come night time, I had dinner at Cyma before going off to meet my officemates again at some Mexican restaurant.
When I said I had two sets of bikinis, I had an awesome Ralph Lauren one (circa 2008) that reminded me of WASPy country club chicks (White Anglo-Saxon Protestants). Unfortunately, it was loose on the boob area and every time I bent down, I gave everyone an eyeful. Consequently, when I was about to board my plane, I realized I had left them hanging on the balcony to dry. I called my sister up in a rush to check if they were still there–thankfully, she was still at the resort about to be loaded into the shuttle. Talk about awesome, crazy luck!
Anyway, please note that I am still very much sane and sober in the above photo. An hour after that, my uncle came around and invited my cousin and I to bar-hop with him because he was doing research for a resort he planned on setting up or something. I don’t know. I was just in it for the company. So we visited several bars and had to observe for fifteen minutes–in order for us not to look like total creepers, we had to order one drink each.
During my first round, the bartender suggested I get a mango margarita that was, frankly, 5% mango, and 95% alcohol. It was so horrible. Everything seemed like a blur after that. A few drinks more and a Jagerbomb after, I begged off and told my uncle I had to meet my friends. I dragged my cousin with me while we giggled and skipped along the shore (this was midnight already).
As you can see, a million drinks after and I am still able to tie my hair. I told my friends I was merely “buzzed” and not drunk-off-my-ass-crazy yet. So they assaulted me with Bacardi and Pringles despite the fact that I was already flushed. I indulged them a bit and had two extra glasses, several shots, and maybe a few more sans the aid of my hands. I don’t normally drink, I don’t like drinking, I don’t like the taste of liquor despite the fact that I’ve never had a problem containing my alcohol but I figured, this doesn’t happen too often and I’m already twenty-one. What’s a one-off going to do to my life goals anyway.
So this was after X number of shots–my best HERP DERP face to date. By this time, I was already blotchy and finding everything hilarious–though to be fair, it was because I thought my jokes were smashing. Anyway, I went home after that and was able to maintain a very sane conversation with my cousin before falling asleep on the way back to the resort. I got to my room safe and sound, was able to brush my teeth and whine in twitter, before falling on the bed asleep. The next morning, I woke up wanting to die and banging on my mother’s door for emergency meds. She was all: “Poor bb, didn’t have that much sleep last night!”
When my plane landed in Manila, I swore off alcohol for the rest of my life.
Ironically, two days after, Glitterati set up an event to launch their Prive line at Members Only, with an open bar. Along with thirteen other girls, I was asked to be one of their muses. Since I like the owners and I liked the brand, I said yes–not bothering to tell them that I was probably still a little bit sick and suffering through the extra pounds I gained while on vacation.
Congratulations to both Nina Estacio and Joanna Ladrido for the successful launch and the beautiful collection–please visit their store in Makati (from the photos that I’ve seen, it looks so posh and high-street)
Not seen in the photo but muses alike: Nicole Asensio, Patricia Prieto, Maggie Wilson, Sandra Seifert (Who taught me to say Ich Le be Dich and was nice enough to say I got it right), and many more.
With Kara Gozali (A pretty, half-Indonesian, 5’10 model) and Ysa Villar.
With Glitterati’s other fabulous muses: Kookie Buhain, Tricia Gosingtian, and Lissa Kahayon. Tricia and I changed to our original outfits already (yes, this was what I wore to the office so I wasn’t really in party mode). Also, obligatory bathroom photos!
(Floral Top: Cotton On dress turned into top | Black skirt: Soiree, SM Department Store | Pink Belt: Anne Smith | Nude Pumps: Custom-made)
(Bag: Jean Paul Gaultier | Faux Fox-Tail keychain: SM Department Store)
With Karl Leuterio, looking awesome as usual. He’s one of the very few male fashionistas that I follow through closely.
Also, yes, I love fox-tails, I want them to “happen.” They’re so nifty–especially when I’m out waiting and being fidgety, I have something to tug. At the same time, when I’m out in public with it, people actually crouch down to touch it. Seriously. Apparently, it doesn’t just happen to me–my good friend Dada, who got me into fox tails in general, told me people actually do attempt to pet the tails (she got a real one from Niagra). People and their strange quirks.
Anyway, I bumped into fabulous people in the event like: Aisa Ipac, Lauren Dado, Tin Iglesias, Paul Jatayna, Chantal Tee, Gia Banaag, and many more.
Post-Glitterati event at Tricia’s house holding my lens cap. Looking so haggard. My eyes were a bit teary from all the cigarette smoke. But hey, I was pretty much 100% alcohol-free that night!
That’s for my re-cap!