Bling-Bling Life's Most Embarrassing Moments
When was the most flustered moment in my bling-bling life? Back at the orphanage when I lost all the money I'd scraped together from selling crap? Or when a friend straight-up asked if I was an orphan? Or maybe when I started day labor and heard construction slang I'd never encountered before? There were plenty, but this moment definitely ranked among them.
"Soraaa! Where are you going~?"
Thud thud thud thud!
I scurried my short legs and locked myself in my room. Outside, Mom knocked on the door, tempting me with sweet words.
"Try this one on, Sora! It's such a pretty outfit!"
"Ugh..."
The old days were better, honestly. Back when we lived in that tiny one-room, we never bought clothes. We didn't have money for that in the first place. It was all secondhand stuff from donation bins. And among those, the cute ones were rare—kids' clothes even more so. In that sense, fashion was free rein. I didn't have to listen to Mom. I'd just pick out my own stuff to wear when we went together. No skirts or sparkly, blingy girly clothes. Just baggy T-shirts and pants. I was a guy back then. No reason to wear skirts or shiny outfits.
But things were different now. We'd paid off the loan sharks, and whenever I got royalties, I handed most of it to Mom. Our finances were pretty comfortable. In 2000s terms, making ten million won a month was luxurious—equivalent to thirty or forty million in the 2020s. It was rich-person income. Even in my future life, less than 5% earned that much monthly. Sure, we were still paying down debt. Back then, out of three million earned, two point seven million went to debt, leaving three hundred thousand for living. Now, out of ten million, eight million to debt, two million for living. Our household was seven times better off. Two million monthly for living expenses was middle-class level now. No longer low-income spending. And that was excluding Dad's earnings, which probably went somewhere else.
Maybe that's why Mom had gone wild. Was it resentment from not buying me clothes as a kid? Or the parental spark igniting to dress her kids in pretty outfits? She kept urging me to try on the department store haul. But the clothes were perfectly age-appropriate: pink overload, with cartoon characters slapped in the center. And skirts I'd barely worn before. They felt like they'd strip away any shred of masculinity. I could see why Mom was thrilled. After years of hand-me-down bin rags, she could finally buy proper clothes for her kid.
Thud thud!
She was still pounding on the door. Her eyes had a scary glint—not her usual gentle, kind mom vibe. I cracked the door and spoke softly to her waiting outside.
"M-Mom... Don't we have any of my old clothes?"
"Oh? Sora? I threw those all out~ They were too drab and worn out for you."
Those had a nice vintage vibe... I hadn't even said goodbye to my old wardrobe buddies. I squeezed my eyes shut. Fighting with Mom like this might make me late for the drama premiere. Breaking promises was the worst, especially when I was the one involved.
"Mom..."
"Sora~ Pretty please, just try it on for Mommy~"
Her pleading voice broke me. I opened the door. Surrender.
"Hehehe...!"
Mom approached with a devilish grin. I had no choice but to endure this trial. Eyes shut tight. I prayed that when I opened them, this would all be a dream.
I stared at my reflection in shock. It was pure first-grade bling—exactly what an elementary kid would wear. And not pants—a skirt. Cute, sure... but it was me.
Mom beamed, absolutely delighted.
"You're so pretty, my baby girl!!! I should've dressed you like this ages ago~ I'm sorry, Sora! Mommy didn't take good care of you."
"You don't have to..."
"Hehehe...!"
Ignoring me or pretending not to hear, she pinched my squishy cheeks. Then she said,
"Alright, let's go! Sora."
"Okay..."
Seeing her so happy and satisfied, I couldn't refuse. She'd dreamed of dolling me up like this, thwarted by reality. Clothes weren't always cheap—good ones especially. Kids' stuff cost even more than adult wear, since demand was lower.
I took Mom's hand and headed out. If only we had a car. No private vehicle made everything inconvenient. As a guy, I'd driven everywhere... and without one, apps summoned taxis instantly. So it wasn't that bad—three minutes, or one for apartments. But now? No apps. Had to flag them down on the street. Nostalgic folks missed their carefree youth, not this hassle. The future was clearly more convenient. No smartphone meant boredom city. People zoned out or fiddled with feature phones. I missed internet and YouTube phones. At least then, waiting three or four hours was bearable with a phone.
"Taxi~"
Mom, no future-dweller, didn't notice the inconvenience. You only appreciate ease after hardship. Only I knew a finger-tap could summon a cab to the door. Luckily, we didn't wait long.
"To KBA Broadcasting Station, please~"
Premieres happened various places—movie theaters or station halls like this. Drama ones were invite-only at the broadcaster. Of course I was invited. I'd contributed heaps to the production. The second half was basically based on my Song of the Sword.
"Aigoo, so cute, my girl~"
Mom kept smiling contentedly at me. If she'd had a phone, she'd have snapped a dozen pics. Honestly, I thought I looked super cute too. My face wasn't ordinary—child actor level. But being the subject was the issue. The skirt still felt alien. Wind whistling up there made me shiver.
Chatting with Mom, we arrived at the station. We entered the hall, packed with drama actors and staff. Maybe because it was a proper historical drama, female cast was scarce. Dramas usually balanced genders 5:5—pure male or female shows didn't sell. But Song of the Sword layered male-lead Joseon era with hardcore sageuk, birthing a male-heavy disaster. Male actors everywhere; females? Maybe a handful. 9:1 ratio, men dominant. Whatever. Gender balance didn't pay bills.
I strode in confidently with Mom to the premiere venue.