A rebellious act

I always considered myself a good daughter. I never made friends with the wrong crowd. I acquired no vices while growing up. The only rebellious act I can remember doing is having a boyfriend at 16, when my mom explicitly told me not to.

I didn’t do it to actually diss my mom. It’s just that I felt I was old enough to make my own decisions. (although looking back, 16 doesn’t seem to be that mature now).

I am a strong believer that when you meet the right man to spend the rest of your life with, you’d want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. That’s exactly what I had written down on our wedding invitations, eight years after my tearful confrontation with my mom.

Hubby is the living evidence of my single rebellious act, and well, it seemed to be all worth it, he’s proven himself through the years. It’s just that I met him a few years too early, and was afraid to let him go even considering our young ages.

So what if I’m tagged as a rebel at some point in my life, it resulted in my happy ever after didn’t it?