Nakita n'yo ba sya, ang aking nawawalang baywang?  Matagal na rin siyang nawawala...simula pa noong 2004 nung umabot ang timbang ko sa 140 lbs.  Noong 2005, pagkatapos kong magpakamatay sa kaka-diet, nagkita kami sandali.  Pero pagkatapos ng ilang buwan, unti-unti siyang nawala hanggang sa tuluyang naglaho.

Baka sakaling matulungan ninyo akong mahanap siya.  Sukat n'ya'y 28 inches, di gaanong malaman, di naman kapayatan. Maganda siyang magdala ng damit.  Mahilig siyang sumayaw.  Sa pagkain, ayaw na ayaw niya ng matatamis, nakakapangit daw kasi.

Nasaan ka na, my waistline? Miss na miss na miss na kita.  Sana sa birthday ko, magbalik ka na.

My first time to be ninang sa kasal. In a cousin-in-law's wedding in faraway Rosales, Pangasinan. The confirmation came a week before the wedding. Great. Seven days for a dress.

If I had been male, things would be simpler. All I'd need is a clean barong, pressed slacks and a pair of shiny shoes.

It would be simpler too had I been fifty-ish, five inches taller, and 10 pounds lighter.

As I am none of the above, finding the dress was complicated.

I didn't want to be overdressed. I didn't want to look matronly. (With a ninang dress, I'd look like the little girl who played dress up and put on mom's makeup.) I also wanted something re-wearable... sometime, when I become ninang again, perhaps?

In my mind I pictured wearing a dress like these --
But found no such luck after hours of searching in Glorietta, Landmark, Sari-Sari, X and Cinderella in Makati one hassled Sunday. There had been dresses -- great looking ones, but they were too long, not of the right color, didn't fit or were simply too expensive and hence, impractical.

I tried again the next day, in Megamall. The first two rounds with Mike were as unlucky as my foray in Makati. I found something similar to my dream dress but the store didn't have my size. Boo-hu-hu! Mike didn't have the stamina nor the taste for shopping, so while he wasn't actually complaining I felt like I had to make a decision and was getting tempted to buy a dress that looked okay, but one I didn't really like. (It was beige, empire-cut, where I looked dawdy and pregnant.)

We took a break, had dinner, and I sent Mike away to rest his legs while I tried a second time.

And then that's when I found this dress in the SM department store. Just the right color, re-wearable. The length was alright too. (I could pull the skirt up or have it shortened anyways.) And guess what! It cost less than P2,000!

For P140 more I bought a yard of dope-dyed fabric (same material and color --gold-- as the dress) which I had made out into a shawl.

See? There's value in never giving up. :)

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BTW, I turned out to be the youngest and sassiest looking ninang at the wedding. :)

They say friends are God's way of apologizing for the family you end up with. I don't think there's any reason to apologize for mine, but I've really ended up with terrific friends, God must really love me! :)

I have girl friends, male friends, gay friends. I have academic, social, political even cultural friends. Some I have been with for almost two decades, some I am just starting to get to know. Some I share emotional, heavily-laden moments with. With some, light, fun-filled, even comic episodes. Some live nearby, and we see and talk with each other almost everyday. Some are away, and we reconnect and re-start where we left off, online.

All are my staunch supporters -- some more vocal, some with quiet assurance. All are inspirations -- to be kinder, wiser, funnier, sexier, more patient, more creative, sportier, calmer, healthier, better. All touched me with the gift of their time and understanding, at one time or the other giving themselves. All have contributed to who I am now. All have enriched this life I so gratefully enjoy.

And so today, as I look out the window and see the pouring rain, I thank God for the pouring of friends into my life:

Claire, Haidz, Cheche, Marsha, Bryant, Donski, Marlon, Chelle, Beng, Au, Joyce, Odess, Joey, Cesar, TJ, May M, May P, May C, Malou, Lito, Jeng, Rel, Cherry, Olive, Sharon, Chad, Sylvia, Ryann, Jenn, Marko, Jeffrey, Carol, Patrick, Helen, Cel, Ate Mafe, Rain, Chie, Jen, Jason, Ariel, Dang... and more whose names escape my mind at the moment but whose memory will never escape my heart! :)

The night Mike and I admitted our feelings for each other, I got so excited I left my wallet by my PC and had to pa-cute my way home. I had nothing else (that I can easily part with) but the LRT token I found in my filofax, so I sheepishly explained to the bus conductor that I have, um, left my wallet at the office, and asked him to please accept the LRT token* as temporary payment for my ride from Megamall to San Pedro. I told him that I will track him down at the terminal and pay my dues the following day. Luckily, he didn't give me the heave-ho and said paying wasn't necessary under the circumstances.

I thanked him, and thanked God, because if he had been any less gallant (or generous) I would have needed to get off somewhere in treacherous EDSA, beg for change so I can call my mother and ask her to come get me home. The alternative would have been to beg for change, wait for an hour for Mike to get home to Caloocan, then ask him to come get me in treacherous EDSA and get me home. Either way, I would need to approach perfect strangers and ask for change. (Urrhhh.. I shudder at the thought.) And if I did choose plan A and called my mom, I would have earned the ire equal to 3 hydrogen bombs. She would have soooooo hated to be dragged out of bed just to head off in the dark night to collect a daughter who was so euphoric to remember her own wallet. (Urrrhhh... more shudder. )

Anyway, the experience (and the would have beens) embarrased and fazed me enough to learn important lessons: 1) Thou shall not, for any reason, be so stupid as to leave your wallet ever again. And 2) Thou shall not put all your eggs in one basket -- stash some cash in other compartments besides your wallet!

And so from then on I leave/keep lose change (enough for at least a phone call so I won't need to beg from complete strangers) in my checkbook, my cosmetic kit, my pen case, my card case, and in the inside pockets of ALL of my bags...

I realized today though, as I cleaned out my closet, that the bags in which I stashed my emergency cash have grown to a considerable collection:


Native bags. At the foreground, center is Claire's Christmas/birthday gift to me. The rest I bought from the glamorous, ultra-chic place that is Divisoria.

Louis who? Yes, I went through the name-dropping phase too. And yes, dear, they are fakes. (If I can afford the real thing, would I be riding a bus?) And yes, dear, I don't use them anymore. The beige and violet Louis (out back) has never been used, been at the bottom of my bag stack for er, seven years.


Patchwork. These are the more current ones and are my favorites, along with the native bags. The multi-colors allow me to match them with several outfits and allow me to use the same bag for several days in a row. :)


Florals and Stripes, Denim and other Fabrics. The Marilyn Monroe and the brown flowery print bag belong to my grandmother. :) When I like a style I buy it in different colors, as the canvass bags above, left, show. :) The denim mailman bag I bought from a former Home Economics teacher in St. Scholastica's College, who sold the bag (which she used as a project sample) in a garage sale, for only P100!





Les Petits. And then of course, my shopping staples. Light and petite to allow for better and faster movement when shopping, but spacious enough to contain my wallet and mobile phone. The elephant-themed bag at the foreground is a pasalubong from Claire, from Bangkok. The lilac evening purse would have been used during Eman's wedding, but I wound up buying a blue evening dress after a disastrous experience with my modiste.


All together now. Here they all are, including ones that weren't in the previous pictures. A veritable ukay-ukay bag mountain. Time to purge and hold a garage sale, don't you think?


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The LRT token was worth P6.00 back then; a one-way fare from Megamall to San Pedro cost P28.00.

Oops, I had it again.

Some people have bad hair days...days when their hair seem to have a life of their own and do not conform to the rules of styling.

Me, I have bad body days, as I did for the nth time, this morning. On days such as this my body takes a life of its own, puts curves in the worst places, and every bit of clothing I put on seem to mismatch or just doesn't make the cut...

The reasons for that sometimes, is physiological: Weight gain = curves in the wrong places = clothes make me look like a sack of potatoes. Sometimes, it's psychological: Bad mood = feeling less pretty/feminine/sexy = time spent choosing something to wear = infinity.

On most times, it's downright petty:

1) I wanna use this bag, but I can't find the clothes that go with it!
2) I want to wear something pink today; but my pink blouse doesn't go with anything else in my closet
3) I need to wear this newly bought accessory...

On those times I end up trying on the whole closet, then sighing exasperatedly, "Wala akong maisuot! (There's nothing here for me to wear!)" To which my husband replies, equally exasperatedly, "Sa dami ng damit mo, wala kang maisuot? (A full closet and still nothing to wear?)" He cannot emphatize. Getting dressed for him is as easy as putting on jeans and a polo, almost often white.

This morning I actually tried on 11 pieces of clothing: a ForMe beige slacks with an olive green knitted blouse; that same slacks with a ForMe knitted aquablouse; that slacks with a Retazzo blouse; that slacks with a Lhasa blouse. Then dark jeans with a violet Molecules shirt; then the dark jeans with a while Club Monaco blouse. Scrapped all that (proof: heap of clothes on the bed) and tried on another pair of jeans (lighter this time) and a pink Hang Ten striped shirt.

Until I tried on the same pair of jeans with a white cotton sleeveless blouse with floral prints (which I haven't worn for a while) and liked what I saw in the mirror. :) Satisfied, I completed the look with a denim-blue themed beaded necklace, denim-blue and white faux pearl bracelet, white pearl-stud earrings, white sandals, my silver shades and my trusty white-and-blue bag, and finally left the house. Total time spent dressing and undressing and dressing again: two hours.

Hay... hirap maging babae!

Here's another original, from my other blog (annesqui.bebo.com), which I wrote about 3 months ago [the motivation for which line of thinking I already forgot ;)]. I was reminded of it the other day as Claire and I walked for miles in Glorietta in search for the perfect get-up for her graduation. We were saying, quite repeatedly, how the males in the graduating batch would have come up with their outfits weeks ago, because theirs was the simple task of finding the barong/suit that fits their physiques and pockets, while for Claire (and the rest of the ladies) it was looking for the right fit, color, style, look for the dress, ensuring that it's functional enough (or can be used for other occasions) and reasonably priced, then planning the right accessories for it, and imagining complementing hair and make-up. The complexity of the situation and the urgency of the issue at hand is one that can only be appreciated and understood by who else but ... other women like us. :)

Yesterday at Eve and Jundy's wedding reception while talking about my Friendster blog Shawie commented that she found my musings at Bebo cute and "thought-provoking." I figured it'd be a nice if my friendsters would get to read my Bebo blogs too. So here's one from my Bebo blog, my thoughts on why it's tough being a woman. On y va!

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IT'S TOUGH BEING A WOMAN

If you're a woman, you have to be pretty, or physically attractive. You're supposed to look good, dress well, smell nice. Have white teeth, shiny hair, french-tipped (if not colored) nails, cute feet, and smooth skin.

If you're pretty, you must also be sexy. You have to watch what you eat, watch your weight, have no cellulite or bulges and have curves in areas that matter.

If you're pretty and sexy na, you have to be smart as well (else you'd be labelled a bimbo). You have to make sense when you talk, be able to make pungent observations about the greatest issues of the day, and have a healthy sense of humor.

If you're pretty, sexy and smart na, you still have to be nice. You can't bitch around, you have to be at your best behavior, be approachable, polite and courteous, poised, and keep your calm and composure even if you want to cry or rip their heads off with your bare hands.

If you're pretty, sexy, smart and nice, you still have to have a useful talent or skill. You can at least sing, dance, paint, deliver a speech, speak three other languages, write a poem, play the guitar or the piano, bake, whip up a gourmet meal, change a flat tire, change oil, mountain climb, dive, drive, make mean martinis, write java scripts..

If you're pretty, sexy, smart, nice and talented, you have to be self-sufficient. You have to be comfortable in your own skin, be your own person, able to heal your wounds, nurse your broken heart, settle your personal conflicts, deal with your demons and face your fears. Of course it wouldn't hurt if you're earning your own money and are charging to your own account.

And on top of that, if you're already pretty, sexy, smart, nice, talented, and self-sufficient, you have to have substance, be spiritual, be involved, contribute, practice the right values, and have enough love, time and commitment to be the best wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, girlfriend, fiancee, teacher, counselor, worker, advocate, etc. that you could ever be.

It's tough being a woman. :)

May 30, 2005

APART FROM identifying with Ally's idiosyncrasies (we're both insane, romantic lunatics) and emphatizing with her blues, I love the show Ally McBeal mostly for the songs as well as the tongue-in-cheek comedies provided by the other characters like John Cage. Here's an example:

"Love. We all want it. Don't all get it. I remember telling my mother in high school I wanted to wait for the perfect girl. And she replied, 'Idiot! Even if you found her, she might be holding out for the perfect man.' She also said I wouldn't recognize love unless it bonked me on the head.

And I retorted, 'Well, why don't you come along with me, mom, and if you see love, you hit me on the head so I'll know.'

It was difficult as a young man taking my mother on dates...

And then, one night, not a date night, but just one evening, I turned to my mom and, as I looked into her eyes, I could see... she was dead. She'd passed on quietly from an aneurysm, right there at the table. All she said was, 'Ip.' Sitting in a chair: a quiet little 'Ip.' It was her request to have her last words put on her tombstone. And I see people at the cemetery snickering when they read: "Joanna Cage. Beloved Mother. Ip." I miss my mother. Even though she's not here... I know she's still with me, smiling down on me... hoping I'll find love. "

See what I mean? Love angst coated in comedy and satire. Something that makes you vascillate between tears and cracking up in laughter. Genius!

May 22, 2005

Here's to all of us wonderful women! :)

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Things a Woman Should HAVE Before She's 30:

1. One old love she can imagine going back to ...and one who reminds her how far she has come.
2. Enough money within her control to move out and rent a place of her own even if she never wants to and needs to.
3. Something perfect to wear if the employer or date of her dreams wants to see her in an hour.
4. A youth she's content to leave behind and a past juicy enough that she's looking forward to retelling it in her old age.
5. The realization that she is actually going to have an old age and some money set aside to fund it.
6. A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.
7. One friend who always makes her laugh... and one who lets her cry.
8. A good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family.
9. Eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems, and a recipe for a meal that will make her guests feel honored.
10. A resume that is not even the slightest bit padded.
11. A feeling of control over her destiny

1. How to fall in love without losing herself
2. How to quit a job, break up with a lover, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship
3. When to try harder... and when to walk away
4. How to have a good time at a party she'd never choose to attend
5. How to ask for what she wants in a way that makes it most likely she'll get it
6. That she can't change the length of her calves, the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents
7. That her childhood may not have been perfect... but it's over
8. What she would and wouldn't do for love or more
9. How to live alone... even if she doesn't like it
10. Whom she can trust, whom she can't, and why she shouldn't take it personally
11. Where to go... be it to her best friend's kitchen table...or a charming inn in the woods when her soul needs soothing
12. What she can and can't accomplish in a day... a month... and a year

1. A good woman is proud. She respects herself and others. She is aware of who she is. She neither seeks definition from the person she is with, nor does she expect them to read her mind. She is quite capable of articulating her needs.
2. A good woman is hopeful. She is strong enough to make all her dreams come true. She knows love, therefore she gives love. She recognizes that her love has great value and must be reciprocated. If her love is taken for granted, it soon disappears.
3. A good woman has a dash of inspiration and a dabble of endurance. She knows that she will at times have to inspire others to reach the potential God gave them.
4. A good woman knows her past, understands her present and forces toward the future.
5. A good woman does not live in fear of the future because of her past. Instead, she understands that her life experiences are merely lessons meant to bring her closer to self-knowledge and unconditional self-love..

(To my bestfriend. And to everybody else who can relate. The text has been attributed to both Judith B. Evans and Veronica Shoftall. Line re-sequencing, mine.)

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After a while,
you learn the subtle differencebetween holding a hand
and chaining a soul.
And you learn that loving doesn’t mean leaning
That kisses aren’t contractsand presents aren’t promises.

After a while you learn that even sunshine burns
if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

You learn to build your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is uncertain
and futures have a way of crumbling in mid-flight.
And so you you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes open,
with the grace of a woman,
not the grief of a child.

And you learn you really can endure
that you really are strongthat you really do have worth.
And you learn, with every painful experience, you learn.
With every good-bye comes the dawn.