"Hi my name is Sunny and I’m a Shopaholic."
What the…no way! Shopping is for girls only – the stereotype that I used to believe on living with my three Shopaholic sissies. When I was still a kiddo, I just couldn’t understand why my sissies were having catfights for Dior or Victoria Secret’s heady scent and on why they kept on bugging my parents just to buy them lip gloss, shoes, clothes, bags, and of course sets of make ups and then after a while I could see all those craps in clutter at their rooms. Oh girls, they’re just horrible. Then when I reached high school I formulated the thought that girls love to shop just to stumble on the right prettification for guys to notice them, just to enhance their attractiveness - in short. And then my sanity had a break off when I always heard them talking about their fantasies in shopping; the Gucci, Prada, and other designer’s products as their bliss in life. OHMIGUSH! What the hell is with them! Those things won’t transform them into Goddess! But then a twist of fate had happened, a major makeover scene of my life. It was the time when I passed the nursing board- of course I was on a cloud nine, heh heh heh. I felt that the doors of heaven had opened for me, “gimme a break from a frenzied world of studying, time for a big treat, yadahhhh!” I didn’t notice that I was already splurging for crappy craze - unconsciously. Until one day, after an exhausting “shopping” adventure I sat on my bed and I saw all the clutter (main reason why I named this site as filthyroom) in my room and all I could say was OHMIGOD! Sheesh, the scene at my sissies’ room came before my eyes –in a flash, the crap and more crap…crap everywhere. My sets of body bags, from the tiniest that looks like a momma pouch up to my luggage-sized sack, that’s one, two, three, four, five…but then I was just only using one. My caps and beanies, in red, blue, orange, black –oh no, in ROYGBIV as a disguise for my high hair lines but I guess the quantity is too much for a unique every day style in two weeks time (so they’re more than 14). I also got bunch of scarves in wide-ranging options; from Robin Hood’s fad up to the cow boy’s craggy style, and from plain shades up to the checked and stripes. And then my bracelets (and anklets too); the Nike baller Id bands in different colors – hands on the air “woot woot” cool stuff, the USB bracelets too, and the bracelets as trinkets – the shimmering item on your wrist (lol), and of course the bracelets made from thread and twines – the souvenir stuffs and keepsakes from Baguio and fabu Beaches. And of course, the big things – the techy things, though I wasn’t really into tech bites I also got hooked with them. The mobile phones with “the newer - the hotter” outlook and the photography mania (so addicted to it and been dying to buy the best DSLR in town, “drools, drools”) that in bad chance, I just settled to lomos. Now with these filthy stuffs, is