On my quest to brighter and smoother underarms~


Hahaha, I didn’t know this blog could also be a ~beauty~ or ~lifestyle~ blog but I guess everything goes now!

I just wanted to share this product (PROMISE, THIS IS NOT A SPONSORED POST) because I was sooooo legitimately happy about it.

Now, a bit of a background. Gross or whatever, but I’ve always had a ~forest~ situation on my underarms. Let’s say I shave this morning. By the next morning, there is evident regrowth already. I AM NOT JOKING. And I know, I could just wax or get my underarms threaded or pluck them but 1) shaving is so much easier and faster, 2) I hate tweezers, and 3) I hate spending money ALL THE TIME for it.

So naturally, my armpits ended up dark with chicken skin, and of course, the hair was so much thicker. This was really saddening because I have a quite fair skin so to have such a vast difference in skin tone is just disheartening.

Anyway, I finally invested in getting my pits treated to stop the hair growth. I know, let’s all be natural and healthy and ~you don’t have to shave~ and all the feminist things BUT it’s my body and I really feel better when my underarms are hairless. I’m not just being forced by society that it looks better if it’s “clean” and all that. I really don’t like hair in there. And it’s my body so okay. I’ve been getting the Diode Laser Underarm Hair Removal Treatment at Skinstation for Filipinos out there who want to do the same. It’s expensive, yes, but I got it for a deal (from PhP 1500 per session, it became PhP 500, I think [that’s USD 30 to USD 10) and I’ve been very happy about it. I’m just on my fifth session and my hair follicles are very active and strong so I’m nowhere near done. But I’m loving how the hair grows back sooooooooooooooo slowly nowadays and there’s so few of them too! So I stand by this treatment.

With the hair kinda managed, I still have my dark underarms and chicken skin situation. Skinstation has been offering me their Vitamin C ointment/lotion/emulsion but I didn’t want to spend more bucks on it. Two weeks ago, I finally started putting Vitamin C on my underarms every morning after taking a shower and drying myself off. I figured, if it’s okay for my face, it should be okay for my underarm, right?

Yes, I’ve been using my It’s Skin Power 10 Formula VC Effector on my underarms and with just two weeks of religiously using it, I’ve noticed much improvement!

I don’t have photos because duh, I’m embarrassed of my underarms. But the chicken skin has abated and is mostly gone! It looks a bit brighter too and I might try exfoliating it soon too. Seriously, I now feel like applying it at night too to hopefully increase its power?

It doesn’t break the bank too! I got mine for PhP 390 (USD 8) from Althea. It’s not actually cheap but this small bottle goes a long way. I also use it for my face as my Vitamin C active so its duality in purpose feels like it’s worth the money.

Sooooo, that’s it! Hope it works for you too if ever!


It’s kinda ironic…

…how I go home early now that I have a car. I always thought that since I now have my own car, I could go home whenever I want to. I don’t need to think of until what time jeeps are available or if I have to change routes if there are no more jeeps at a certain time. I don’t have to be afraid every time I hail a cab to go home if I’m too drunk. Having a car means I can now go home whenever I want.

But it’s the complete opposite. Since I park inside our gated apartment, I have to be early so I could park without anyone blocking the gate. It’s such a hassle when I go home late and someone has parked in front of the gate because I have to match the car to its owner and go a flight of stairs and ask the car’s owner to move his/her car so I can park inside. I always feel like a douche whenever I hassle people over parking my car.

So I go home early. So even if I have to ask someone to move their car, it’s still early and they’re most likely awake still. Not only that, but having a car meant I also go to work earlier. Going in at 10AM doesn’t cut it anymore because I don’t have any parking space left by that time. I have to go in early.

This post has no point but to share my observation, which I find ironic. “Having a car means freedom!” Nope. Not for me. Although it is very convenient to not have to wait in line for jeeps especially when it’s raining. Or book an Uber worth two liters of gasoline, which could serve me for days if I drove my own car. I also don’t arrive to work sweaty and I can listen to the songs I want on full blast. I never thought I’d like driving (oh goodness, the anxiety and stress of learning) but I actually do. Unless it’s parking my car, which still stresses me the fuck out. But whenever I’m driving, it’s just so peaceful. I have time alone for myself, which I know I supposedly get loads of but I’m living with my sister so I don’t really have time ~alone~.

I like driving. I hope it likes me someday too. Especially parking. Haha!


It’s kinda ironic…

Help me plan my ‘Stranger Things’ viewing party!


Probably the only reason I haven’t cancelled my Netflix subscription yet is because of Stranger Things. (Let’s be real though, I will never be able to quit Netflix even if I’m jobless like now because TV is LIFE.) I loved the first season and in fact, I watched it a total of THREE TIMES in a span of two weeks?? Something like that. It was just so compulsively watchable that I remember sleeping at 7AM just to finish it all. (Pro-tip: Do not start watching a series at midnight.) Admittedly, what initially hooked me was these kids playing Dungeons and Dragons because I play D&D myself. But each episode was more gripping than the previous and I was unstoppable as I queued an episode right after the other. IT IS JUST THAT GOOD. What made Stranger Things even more fun for me was watching it again with my friends, most of which also play D&D with me, and discussing it and loving it altogether.

So this October, I am planning on hosting a Stranger Things viewing party!!!!111 YAY!!!! *confetti* And now, you gotta help me with it! Continue reading “Help me plan my ‘Stranger Things’ viewing party!”


Your love was handmade for somebody like me

This post has been sitting in my drafts for so long I almost ended up not writing it because it’s not relevant to my headspace anymore. But when I was about to delete the draft, I felt sad (and mostly like I’d disappoint Jay because I told her I’ll write it) and now here we are, spouting possible word vomit. You’ve been warned. (Jay, you’ve been warned. Nothing fruitful in here.) Continue reading “Your love was handmade for somebody like me”

Your love was handmade for somebody like me

So I did a thing…

This blog was supposed to be a new start and a personal blog at that, compared to my book blog Oops! I Read A Book Again and the blog I started back in high school (almost a decade ago) whoopeeyoo. But I suddenly had the urge to merge this one and whoopeeyoo. SO I DID JUST THAT. Hahaha!

So you’re gonna see posts from way back in 2008 in here and please forgive immature Dianne and clueless Dianne for whatever you’re gonna read prior to 2015. I was obsessed with Asian pop culture back then so there’s going to be lots of those in the past.

I’m slowly returning to ~my roots~ and I’ve started watching and caring about kdramas again (I was once a fansubber, that’s how obsessed I was) and I’m planning to post more recaps and reviews of things I watch so I decided to just merge the two.

I’m also wishing to post more personal stuff, such as my Beatles series (more on that soon!), and other life stories. This blog was supposed to be an outlet because I couldn’t tell my friends whatever I was feeling but now that I have friends to tell them about, I ended up not using this as an outlet. But I feel like I should still tell my stories in here, right?

We’ll see! For now, feel free to laugh at teenage Dianne. And and please don’t get mad if there are dead links because obviously, it’s been years. If there are dead links like whoopeeyoo.com/somethingsomething, please just change the whoopeeyoo.com to dayan.xyz and you should be fine.

I’m planning to put my old blog on private so I don’t have redundancies??? And so people who end up on my old blog searching stuff would now be redirected here! And that means more views so I’d feel more encouraged to post because when no one reads it, I just feel meh about posting because why do I even bother, right? HAHAHA kidding, sometimes I love anonymity.

So, enjoy? *sweats through my shirt*


So I did a thing…

Thoughts on Thoughts

Some thoughts come to you fully-formed. Swift as a coursing river, with all the force of a great typhoon, with all the strength of a raging fireyou know the drill. Blatant in its aim, assertive in its direction.

Some thoughts come unbidden. Hiding inside the deepest crevices of your mind, toppling the structure once it comes out and disrupts the precarious balance you have tried to haphazardly form and keep over time.

Some thoughts you chase, harder the more fleeting it is. Some you are able to commit to writing, others you catch in your dreams, forgotten upon awakening.

Some thoughts you repress to keep the skies clear and blue. Belatedly, you realize that they were comforts in their own terms, as you’re more accustomed to this dark, lumbering cloud of doom and gloom than any bright sky might make you think otherwise.

Some thoughts you burn, desperate to be forgotten, buried, but still, the ashes remain.

Some thoughts feel like a reprieve.

Some thoughts feel more like sensations, surprising in their vividness and confounding for the mere senses.

Some thoughts feel like they’re not yours at all. As if some entity formed it and gifted it to your mind, completely foreign, unexpected, and not you. Sometimes reckless, most of the time brave. Or maybe stupid? After all, bravery can just be the lack of ability to assess and manage risks.

Some thoughts are irrational but when did logic even win out against the stubbornness of the mind? As if being aware that these thoughts are illogical ever helped.

All these thoughts and how come they are all about you?


Sorry! I didn’t know how to end this “piece” so I opted for the cheapest trick in town, the lovesick route. Hehehe

Thoughts on Thoughts

It could have been you

I’ve dreamed about you so many nights I could swear those dreams were memories and not my brain fulfilling my deepest desires. God knows I have had daydreams of you where it felt too real to have been make-believe. I sometimes wake up thinking you had an arm draped around me but when the haze lifts, I realize that there was nothing. You’re like a phantom limb I keep on feeling even if you weren’t actually there. You’re the first person I look for in a crowd, the first person I look at for a reaction when I tell a joke, or say something, or hear something, in the hopes that you’d find me hilarious or that we’re in the same wavelength and maybe sort of kind of perfect for each other. I don’t know when I became this pathetic, pining for a man who doesn’t see me that way. Why do I do this to myself? Why is it easy to fall but herculean a task to move on?

I have spent an inordinate amount of time imagining how I’ll tell you how I feel but as Gloria Estefan crooned, the words got in the way. I could never say the words. My guarded self wouldn’t let me. I keep looking for clues, even just a hint, that maybe you have been thinking about me as much as I think about you. No, I don’t even need you to think of me as much. I think about us enough for the two of us. But at least think of me? Do you do that? Do I sometimes cross your mind? Better, do I sometimes sneak on your mind and you don’t know why? I guess I just need something concrete before I go take a risk. I’m like that, I’m safe. This heart is a fortress.

Do I have to say the words? (Do I have to tell the truth? Do I have to shout it out? Do I have to say a prayer? Must I prove to you how good we are together? Do I have to say the words? Thank you, Bryan Adams.) Can’t you feel it with every little thing I do for you? With how much I text you? Need you? Consult you? With how much I spend time with you? Include you? Can’t you? Are words really the be-all and end-all?

I guess friends cook for friends. I guess friends make cakes for friends. I guess everything I have done can be construed as me being nice and such a great friend. How would you know anything, when I do this for your friends too? I mean, my friends too, since I’ve befriended them just to try and be closer to you. I guess it was wrong of me to expect you to get inside my fortressed heart and know it. I guess words are indeed the be-all and end-all.

It could have been you. Alas, I didn’t let you. No, that’s inaccurate. Not so much as inaccurate but incorrect. It could have been you but I didn’t let it.

Edit: And now, I know, that it would have never been you because I did say the words and you don’t like me that way. Heh. And now I’m over you. Funny how angsty I could be, in retrospect.

It could have been you

Sometimes you win in life and it is a glorious feeling: First High School Edition

In high school, I had a crush on this guy one year my senior. We also went to the same university, although he was taking a different course, and still, I had a crush on him. He was in a relationship all throughout I was in college with this awesome girl (we met and talked once for an event and she was kind or maybe it was nearing the election so she was nice) so I was rooting for them too. My crush was nothing serious, it was pretty low-key actually. He was tall, dark, handsome, and lean. He was smart, socially aware, and an activist. We’ve never interacted, in high school nor in college.

After graduation, my crush on him finally ended. I don’t know why but maybe it was because I became friends with one of his best friends. My friend, of course, had stories with him in it and I guess I ended up kind of getting to know him. He wasn’t bad, I wasn’t turned off or anything, but maybe his allure to me was the mystery. That I didn’t actually know him.

Then I ended up drinking with him one time and there I truly realized that there was nothing anymore. My best friend and I didn’t even fangirl anymore, when that was one of our past times back then. When he joined my dragon boat team, I ended up training with him maybe thrice (he wasn’t active at all) and drinking with him a few times. A certain circle of mine, mostly dragon boat teammates, frequented this place so it was there that we kind of talked before, but nothing deep or serious. I wasn’t interested in him anymore so I didn’t expend energy on talking to him or sought him out. Ha, funny how that can actually happen, knowing myself and how hard for me to move on and shit. That night he was mocking how I was only four beers in and I told him it’s not fair to hold me against his eight bottles when he started hours ahead of me. It was then that he told me that the longest time he wooed a girl was one and a half months and that he found it too long and tedious and so he stopped. He’s not an asshole, in fact he’s nice, but like I said, he has so much appeal that I was not surprised that he didn’t really need to woo/court girls. He was the kind of guy girls throw themselves at. I would have done that if I still wanted him and if I was courageous enough for that but alas, I’m shy and scared and clueless (in practice but not in theory because romance novels taught me well?).

So last week, I ended up drinking at this place with friends (who were forty-plus years old and acted as my dads and/or life coaches) and he was there. I was with my old friends and we were playing music, mostly 80s with a bit of 70s and 90s, where I was the one who chose the music. But it wasn’t my phone nor my speakers. There was even a moment when this guy (a stranger) approached my friend to borrow a lighter and ended up talking to me and telling me that my playlist was great. Because I suck at receiving compliments, I just told him that it was not my playlist but I was just the one choosing the songs. But this is not the point of the story but I wanted to share the story of the compliment because it made my day.

Anyway, M (let’s just call him that from now on) was with his frat brothers (I think) in the vicinity AKA the next table since he’s in the same frat as one of my friends. He nods his approval at me when he likes the song I’m playing and bemoans when I change songs he likes (never my fault, I also love those songs but they’re not in theme with the previous happy, upbeat songs). Another friend dropped by and proceeded to give me a box of red velvet crinkles as a late birthday gift and then his eyes have gotten large because he wants some so I offered and he kept on eating and even asked if he can give some to his brothers. Sure, I said.

All throughout the night, he went to different tables to different people. He’s a regular there and he knows the regulars too. I go there enough for the ladies at the counter serving to know my name (which I learned that night as well and I was so shocked because I prided myself in not being there all the time for them to know me but now I can’t say that because I have been profiled) and for them to tease me to give them some red velvet crinkles. I placate myself by thinking that at least I now have a place where I can have a tab. Hahahuhu.

Back to the story. It was getting late and the place has closed but we were still drinking and one of my friends even bought more beers outside for us. We talked a bit like how he was seventeen beers in (fuck that guy, how can he even be awake) but we were mostly singing and requesting songs. I was getting sleepy and I just sat there with my head at the top of the backrest of the chair, looking at the sky. I don’t know why I didn’t just go home (I do know, it’s because I have serious FOMO and hate going first or not finishing a party) but that was me. He was by my left side and at this point it was so hot that I have long since removed my jacket and was just wearing a spaghetti strap top. I tried to cover up by draping my jacket on me but he has already seen me remove it beforehand and teased me about it (or maybe tease is not the correct term but I find it hard to accept compliments so I always categorize them as teasing).

He asked me where I’m going home and I told him I’m staying near SM North (the closest landmark to my apartment). I was so sleepy I wasn’t even looking at him while we’re talking, I was either staring into the nightsky or had my eyes closed. Then he told me: Just go home to our place. (Sa’min ka na lang umuwi.)

I WAS SO SHOCKED I had to look at him after he said it. I mean, sure, maybe he was just being nice and concerned that I can’t go home at my state and that I might fall asleep in the taxi ride home. My friend pointed out that he could have just gotten me home himself if he was concerned but I don’t think he can even manage that. Seventeen beers! And I don’t make it a habit to make people get me home. I am an independent woman, goddamit, I can go home. Anyway, at the time, I told him that isn’t his house not that near too and my apartment isn’t that far so it’s fine. But my mind was reeling. WHAT DOES IT MEAN? I mean, of course I wasn’t actually going to go home with him but WHAT IF I DID? WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED? He didn’t say anything more and we just continued singing then it was time to go home (my friend’s speaker died). My “dads” got me a cab and I got home.

The next day at work, I relayed the story to my BFF. She was so shocked as well and even slow-clapped for me. I mean, with no intention or effort on my part, that happened. Girls cried over him and not being able to go home with him and here I was, someone who said no. HAHAHA She even surmised that I wasn’t being asked to come home with him to his frat house but to his actual apartment/home/we’re not sure. The night before, I thought he was asking me to go to his frat house. I guess it’s an even bigger deal in the light of the day. I only told my BFF, and Charlie, and another guy friend about this. And while I kept on telling them that maybe it meant nothing, we thought it was weird that he’d offer his house when we’re not close. So the offer being an innocent one was less likely.

I guess I haven’t learned enough from romance novels. Is that how innocent-sounding come-ons are these days? Am I naive for giving him the benefit of the doubt? Or maybe it was my low self-esteem that couldn’t process how M could have maybe done that?!?!

Still, it felt like a victory, especially to high school Dianne. The me then never even thought he’ll learn my name or know me AND NOW LOOK AT THAT. And the Dianne of the present also wins because I never thought that I would ever be in a position to say no to him. HAHAHA Life lets you win and it feels glorious.

Sometimes you win in life and it is a glorious feeling: First High School Edition

Why do I keep on pining for guys who don’t like me ~that way~?

Do I like hurting myself?

I mean, it’s okay to have a crush but why do I pine and yearn?

Why do I keep on pining for guys who don’t like me ~that way~?

Sometimes you get so profoundly irrationally sad that you just cry yourself to sleep

I’m an emotional bean. I voice out my complaints, I curse a lot, I squeal when I’m happy, I cry easily, I jump for joy, I am quick to irritation, I get jealous easily, and it only takes a little to rise these emotions out of me. I’m a sensitive bean. Of my own feelings and especially of other people’s feelings. I am attuned so much to other people’s feelings, it sometimes feels like a curse. Perception is both a strength and a weakness of mine. I just care too much about anything and everything and worry too much about anything and everything. I just give a lot of fuck and honestly, it is tiring.

So I try my best to not have these feelings. These emotions. I ward off any potential feelings because when I feel, I cannot stop thinking about it. I wear out the thread of that feeling, of that thought, so much. I end up distracted because I cannot not think about it. Not only does an emotion take over my heart (heh, how romantic and unscientific of me, tsk tsk) but it also takes over my mind. I overthink. I overanalyze. And I hate it. I hate how much I overthink, how much I worry. How much I replay scenes in my head and go hard on myself. This is why my deepest emotions I try to lock tight inside and try not to think about. I make myself busy so I wouldn’t have to think. Which obviously isn’t healthy because I end up repressing them and then I just explode. Not to mention I sometimes end up physically sick from working too hard, not sleeping enough, or being out too much with friends. But explosion I’m fine with. What I dread, more than anything, is when I end up being numb.

It is funny how I spend all of my time trying to not have feelings and then when I go numb I panic. I mean, isn’t that what I wanted in the first place? To not feel? But then it hits me that this must not be. This is not normal. I didn’t know back then that that was depression. Not caring, not feeling. But with a name to it, it grew power. It began to scare me. I didn’t like to be depressed. I mean, who does, right? You can’t get out of bed, you don’t care about anything — be it your job, your health, your friends, your family, your commitments. You just drop out of the loop and lie in bed.

I once took my bouts of depression as being lazy. I didn’t want to do anything. I am actually a lazy person so I didn’t know the difference for a long time. I mistook that irrational sadness for hormones acting up, for my period messing up with everything. I thought me crying without a reason was a normal occurrence for all people. I thought me crying myself to sleep because that’s better than lying awake in my bed until the wee hours of the morning with my negative thoughts running amok was a thing everyone does. I thought, I thought, I thought.

Fuck this. I’m tired.

Ha, as if me being tired of this cycle will magically make it disappear.

Now, going back to crying myself to sleep.

Sometimes you get so profoundly irrationally sad that you just cry yourself to sleep