At a very young age I have mastered the art of running away from boys especially those bearing gifts.

I remember in grade school there was a boy from the other class who kept on following me on his scooter. One time, while walking home with my best friend, he came along and offered me a ride. I grabbed Faith’s hand and we both clambered into a passing tricycle. Scooter-Boy persistently followed us alongside the trike. Faith and I shouted at the trike driver to speed up. When Faith’s house was at sight we jumped off the moving trike and ran as fast as we could inside the house. Then we peeked through the curtains to see Scooter-Boy helplessly staring back at us. A box curiously sat on top of his scooter.

A few minutes after I reached my own home, I heard a knock. When I opened the door, nothing but a box was waiting outside. It was a delightful creamy cake.

It was also in grade school when I ran away from the first boy who wanted to give me flowers.

In high school, a very memorable running-away episode was when the guy I had a crush on since grade 4 offered to walk me home for my birthday. During my last class, I saw him patiently waiting for me outside. I then convinced my whole barkada to form a human barricade. Imagine all six of us huddled together and running from the classroom, through our huge quadrangle, to the school gate and out into the streets. We ran as far as we could from poor Waiting-Guy.

I never knew how to handle admirers properly. I was an awkward admiree.

That being said, allow me to post photos of the new me – the new me who doesn’t run away from gift-bearing-men. In fact, for the past few months, I have learned to stay put, mainly because I have nowhere to bolt to and fleeing in the mall is an embarassing sight.

After all my daily heavy-liftings, how can I say no to food?