God must be joking when he paired us up as The Mother-Daughter.

We could say our love-yas, and then be at each other's throat the next nano-second. Screaming matches, cold hard stares and indifference to each other's presence; The Mother and Daughter are good at that.

Here's ten things I hate about you:

1. Your obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) of stacking precisely half-folded newspapers at the very edge of the table
2. Your phone-slamming tactic whenever you throw a tantrum
3. Your incessant hogging of the phone (I will always remember to dial 999 instead of 'HOME' when in trouble)
4. Your chirpy I-can't-stop-talking-in-the-morning mood
5. Your constant questioning of whether you've been putting on weight (seriously why are you acting like those typical women?)
6. Your indecision of whether to call me fat pig or skinny beanpole (because I eat like a pig but still below 53kg?)
7. Your joy of chucking my personal stuff away without asking because 'they take up too much space'
8. Your slow saunter in a crowded shopping mall (when you know that I want out ASAP)
9. Your unfailing narration of what happened 24 years ago
10. Your indifference to my indifference to The Brother's indifference at me

But I figured that there are just as much about me you have to bear with.

1. My embarrassing booty-shaking routine at the door after a run
2. My gloomy I-hate-talking-in-the-morning mood
3. My nonchalant habit of dropping my bag and 'walking out of my clothes'
4. My 20million decibels emission when on the phone
5. My indifference to your complaint of weight gain
6. My ever-growing wardrobe collection
7. My shameless pilfering of your anti-aging beauty products
8. My constant hunger-pangs and rummaging of the kitchen
9. My failure to land a filthy-rich boyfriend who drives a Maserati owes a mansion and 10,000 maids so that you 'don't have to wash my clothes anymore'.
10. My loud-thumping heart-pounding music which gives you 10 aspirins worthed of headache
11. My impatience and grouchiness when you walk too slowly in a crowded shopping mall

Because it's your birthday I'll let you one up.

A mother-daughter relationship is never without the love-hate strain. As much as we love to start off Cold War X in our very own 3-bedroom flat and stop seeing each other as an moving, breathing, thinking individual, I don't think I could ever live without you. For hugging me tight when I'm fell out of love. (Though I had to stop you from sticking pins into the effigy ) For stroking my hair when I'm sick and bedridden. For carrying my 25kg luggage down and up the four-sickening-storey stairs. For keeping news articles of C. Ronaldo when I'm away cause you know I absolutely adore him. For making me goodness soup the very way a loving Cantonese mother would. For taking pains to wash and iron all my troublesome and delicate clothes with 1001 folds. For buying me my chocolate fix when I needed one badly. For chiding the dirty old men when they gawked at me too long and hard. For lending me pocket money when I ran out of it.

Happy 52 Years.


And that's a Balenciaga bag I bought you, not Bonia! Argh...