Dance, Dance, Dance

Freja Beha makes me question my sexuality. I don't know why but I have a thing for these boyishly gorge models with cropped hair. See Agyness Deyn. But fuck Aggy, I am so Team Freja now. Freja supposedly was named after a Norse God of fertility and beauty or health or whatevs. Man, she just makes me go wow. I wish I had that kind of appeal that makes men AND WOMEN go crazy. Brad Pitt has it. Freja has it. I don't. Yet. Let's keep hoping, the year's still young.







Yesterday was great. Thank God I decided to go to Thirza's beach party at Amara. That place is beyond words, stunning. If Cebu was New York, Amara would be the Hamptons. It's where the filthy rich vacay. Too bad, wealth doesn't assure good looks and we saw no boys of merit there. By we, I mean me, Benett, Thirza, Diane, Mara, Glenalu, Stephy, Ianne, Kristian and Mai-Mai, Thirza's cousin. I let go of my inhibitions and donned a bikini, even with my belly hanging out for the world, (or at least, Amara) to see. Swimming is definitely on my list of feel-good activities. Tiring but fun. At the end of the day, my whole body was on atrophy, I couldn't move a single muscle without feeling pain. I came home at midnight and headed straight to bed, without even popping my earphones. Normally, I can't sleep without music but last night was an exception. I was so wiped out. It was a kind of euphoric tiredness actually. The muscle ache still lingers though.

I'm reading a book by Sophie Kinsella, Remember Me, in honor of my resolution to read more this year. Yay! I'm afraid I have to log out. I still have lots to do.