What girl friends do better than boyfriends

Keeping our girl friends is like carrying around our Kikay pouch – we know a sewing kit is at reach when we need a fix – or when a day simply needs a swipe of a lipstick.

I don’t mean I need/want/love a man less, I just know which stuffs are best done with and expected from BFFs, girl friends, sisters or even from the OB Gyne. Nor I don’t blame men for not being his girlfriend's or his wife’s biggest fan at the time of PMS-ing. Ladies, the way men’s and women's brains are wired, that is a role of a girl friend.

Thus, as much as it is movie-portrayed romantic having programmed our weekends joined by the hips with our boyfriends from the barber shop to the bar b q party, we also need to keep our calendars free for our sorority sisters and let the boys out with their drinking beer buddies. It’s healthy and sanely.

As there are things us being girls and loving mini-skirts can do better like: 

• Shopping for bags, shoes and etc… 

…we never get tired until we find the perfect match and it doesn’t matter if we hop on to ten shops or we have to search for that specific shade of tan (granted there is a pantone assigned). We all know our brothers and boyfriends are for shopping electronics and explaining the processors and the special features or for carting those Ikea’s building blocks. 

•  Rom-com movie marathons

… we laugh, we cry or both at the same time, blush or giggle like teenagers at sleepovers when Edward Cullen first kissed  Bella Swan. Who cares? We are entitled acting half our age in the name of love – at least when we are around our best girl buds wearing our Powerpuffs. And we will not ruin the mood having the bored and snoring bears around.

• Girls’ talk

…from make up to the latest leopard print pumps, from gossips to completely nonsense, we all talk nonstop and altogether at the same time, a hundred of body  issues within half an hour. Yeah I know, only us can follow the swift shifts of topics in a single row. Try this with men and they are lost at mid-sentence.

•  Powder room and girls’ stuff

..when we need to hourly retouch, change our make up from day to night, grab a drink when our gold fish dies, when we need to just feel beautiful when dumped, why we have to wear sky-high heels even if they are killing us or simply why we have to go to the ladies room several times and etc.:… – these we don’t need to explain to our gal pals, we don’t even have to ask twice.

• Understanding PMS

…hormones, dysmenorrhea, migraine or the importance of napkins with wings. When the drama queen mode strikes, our female colleague just knows it’s time of the month and she will not take is against us. We don’t need a debate, we don’t need an argument. Tantrums vanish along with the breakouts. Men?  They will simply dismiss it on us on watching too much of Kim Kardashian, or worse they are ranting their own list of complaints before ours just starts.

crazily sane

Whoever invented that Snooze mode in the mobile is a genius. Aww poor me, even dragging myself under the shower in the mornings has become a chore. 

This is really isn't me… Seriously ummmm, me on totally de-bloated hormonal-rage-free days, which means roughly 7 days in a month. *wink*

But in a workplace where the news about employees benefits and annual vacation are more stressful than your job, these crazy cranks make me sane.

                                                          

Take a bite and indulge:

·    Doing nothing. E.g.: Just stare and stare blankly - on your line of clothes in the clothesline for 3 days and ask if they can't really find their way back into the closet in a neat pile according to their color, classification and length of sleeves. If they can’t, so be it. What’s the pressure for little things if it won’t send you to jail or earn lashes?

·   Unsubscribing to some of FB friends' posts and activities. Admit it, there are people in your FB friends list who by turn of events, you’d like deleted from the list but doing so will be rude, immature or will make you feel bitter, blah blah. But, their every minute posts, quotes, mobile uploads, likes, parinig and etc, just waste the space of your homepage. Some you want deleted in your life but that would be too harsh – because the world does not revolve around your selfish whims. Click unsubscribe button. If you’re comfortable enough block him/her, if that blocked friend finds out and asks, just say: ‘Ohhh, I just deactivated my account. Security threat (ala Kate Middleton), you know’.

·    To just look and say nothing – to people you are already tired of or people whose opinions and stories don’t matter anymore.  Risk looking stupid sometimes than waste your time and emotion. 

·    Try Arabic food or Indian food even if they are served in wide tin plates and you have to eat by your bare hands. Foreigners also wrinkle their nose to our Dinuguans and laugh at our Champorados. You wouldn’t know food by look or by opinions of others. They are not always as bad as their reputations. If you want to spit out on first bite at least you have first-hand account how bad it was to your taste buds. 

·   Doing something unplanned. E.g.: Dip in a pool or swim completely unprepared. 1) Getting home with your completely unruly sun-dried hair and eyebrow-less face will be the day you swear you never want to bump into your boyfriend's ex, but we have to shed off the cosmetics once in a while to have real fun or for the inner beauty (or concealed ugliness) to come out. 2) Getting in the bus with your shirt taking the shape of the wet upper undergarment is laughable but laughing with friends and with one another's bra size is double the fun.

·   Leaving work exactly on time. And leaving the worries and stress by the office door.

·   Doing something just for the pleasure of it - like buying a ring and wearing it while reading a book you also just picked up from the bookstore. 

Crazy Crabby Love

A has a drama tolerance of 2 mins… yeah, A is soo back (big grin) and I should say: ‘I should know’. I should know that his tear ducts are clogged, not that we’ll be back annoying each other. 

Two mins max and he will be back to his jovial mood and endless teasing while I am still so absorbed in my hormonal rage. Yeah, making me feel like all the torture that I’ve been going through is imagined while I feel dehydrated for crying. On other cases, he delivers punch lines that could make me burst into tears in a second. That’s his language of love. 

When I retaliate, he would clench his jaws looking like I was a witch on a broomstick who ruined our day. That look on his face like no apology can even penetrate… Tough… Grrr!

So it was no different weekend in the mall except that he knows my week at work had been so awful. And when I say it’s no different, it means inside man’s shops: Nike, Adidas, Sun and Sands and the competitors… or Sharaf DG. 2 to 4 hours watching stuffs move out from the shelves until my lip gloss fades and the tip of my nose shines. 

This time, 2 hours inside Kinokuniya while he contemplates whether to buy the 2011 or 2012 version of this Revit book, buy the thicker (that says complete) or the thinner (that says fundamental) or the 2012 and the other book (well, it’s an engineering or maybe an architectural book, so I didn’t pay too much attention to the nitty-gritty) and decide if he will go straight to Cashier 2 or just purchase online including signing up to 2 online shops that also sell the book. I already read 12 pages of the book that I picked while casting my votes in between. Well, I already learned ways to entertain and amuse myself with the very limited time we can be together.

Finally it was my stop - Candylicious – because there are very few things that can really cheer me up when I’m blue: a pot of spaghetti, candy store and good food. 

While there I was creating my happy memory of picking a mini-trolley of chocolates and candies A suddenly blurted: “Bilisan natin Kai…”. And so my nostrils flared and my head snapped that made him wish he didn’t open up his mouth. No amount of cajoling could restore my shattered mood until I make him pay. And make him pay I did. And… scroll up Paragraph 3. 

Grrr! I didn't mean to be mean. It's just that I've waited long enough for that trip to the colouful candy store and machines to completely turn around my week at work, etc... to be fair, he has been trying his best to be as comforting as he can, even if he will punctuate it with a punchline.

From one mall to another, we were making each other’s company a hell. After acting like crazy that makes him feel like strangling my neck, we still ended up sharing a kilo of crab in a mud of salty Singaporean sauce. (To be honest, I wasn’t sure it was really a kilo, only that it says in the menu, or maybe the shells and those legs can really get that heavy.) Then we were suddenly back to talking and laughing like nothing happened. Crazy.

If I’m documenting these memories my love, because you should know, this is also my language of love.

Thank you for making memories worth writing. No matter how crazy.

10 important truths that I learned

The hard way, the bitter way and the beautiful way…

1)    Differences…

…we are cut from different pieces of cloth – some are great for comfort, some made to be sturdy. If you know from the look one's a yard from a roll of corduroy, pick something else to make lingerie.

2)    Moving on…

…the truest test is being able to laugh about it – in front of the ex’es face and the current’s – if having moved on is even true. And I don’t mean the nervous laugh tickled by butterflies in the stomach.

3)    That it is important…

…to love myself as much as I love other people and love other people as much as I love myself. As it is as important to forgive myself and other people for annoying habits, offensive humor or for simply being unforgivable.

4)    That there will be people…

…who you wish you met and choose the story to end there. But you cannot because they are instrumental of what you have become. Forgive yourself, who knows, that feeling of regrets and or annoyance is mutual.

5)    That there is goodness…

…in every person, that there is a bright side to every situation - as there is a bad hair day once in a while and PMS-ing to a woman. Simply there is goodness even in imperfections.

6)    That to say…

…you don’t care what people say and feel about you is so selfish because you have the moral obligation to make other people’s lives happy and easy as well and not only yours. So you don’t steal other people's happiness or partners etc., apart from not to steal is commanded and in spite the usual excuse of shortage in the supply of men or whatever.

7)    That there is truth…

…in what people say no matter how bad they are, no matter what the tone and motive is – so think that you and other people who matter can benefit from the change. Pickup what can build your character, discard what can destroy you.

8)    That some people…

…will make you feel you are less, point out that you are ugly, or that you are old, not because they are true or that it matters, but only because they want to feel they are worth so much more and that they are buried in their own miseries. So it’s not always about you.

9)    How they treat you…

…depends on how much they value you. And how hurt you are depends on how much you value them. Don’t worry, it’s only as bad while you are stuck with them.

10)  Not everybody…

…has to matter. Chillax! :)

Ohh! Are you still Single?

I wanted to get married since I was 18. So don’t push me into getting married, especially if it is our first meeting since kindergarten graduation or simply our first meeting and I feel bloated. Nyahaha! 

So, my life isn’t at the stage I daydreamed while growing up: a mom at my thirties, spending weekends taking and fetching my first born into her ballet class and probably at some times sitting inside the Principal’s office for my son. Apparently my ring finger is bare. Before you ask another question: I’m perfectly fine.

Chirpy Mom, who wouldn’t want to be like your Brenda or your Cherry now chasing your favourite tots in their nappies? I'm happy and excited for them, but like I’ve said: I’m perfectly fine spending Friday nights sipping Frozen Margarita with my single girlfriends or thinking about baking mini cup cakes. While no one has ever thought yet of setting that Solitaire atop that singled macaroon amid the sugary colourful batch spelling: ‘Will you marry me?’ while I exaggeratedly dilate my pupils (my ring finger is size 6 anyway *wink*), there’s nothing we can do about it. Phleeezzz!

Why should we refrain from asking if a person is still single?

1)    It’s rude - no matter what the relationship is between the two of you and what the occasion is especially if the person is not babbling about his/her single-thon.

2)      It’s not your business -  the person is not applying for an ID nor signing an insurance policy (if then you are selling one, just shut up after obtaining the info).

3)      We’re not in the position or profession – we’re not a lawyer representing his/her case, an HR conducting an interview, his/her Doctor needing his/her history, etc… In short, it’s uncalled for.

4)   We can make the person feel bad if not worse. Especially if followed by: ‘But are you in a relationship?’. Like: ‘Duh!?’

5)       It’s not being sweet, it’s not being nice, it’s not showing concern – unless you will come up with referrals and not suggestions.

The same applies in asking the person’s age especially if he or she is not publishing it in his/her Facebook profile. If you were classmates, just do the math.  

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me and my tree trunk skin

My work station right now is a mess and I won’t be surprised if one morning an Anaconda will uncurl to say ‘Hi!’. Promise, I don’t want to rant and I am taking this as a long and fruitful test of patience and endurance.

These are just precious pre-requisites to adulthood which I skipped before… the art of controlling emotion… the science of stretching patience and the practice of controlling your voice when you’re about to cry with frustrations with the boss, suppliers and clients harassing you like you’re a sponge bob or a fast food counter order taker.

Waahhh!!! Sniff, sniff… I’ve been spending credits just to tell my ate that I’ve been so exhausted day in day out at work, which to it she just replied: ‘so ang pangit mo na?’ hahaha because there are days that I don’t even remember to put on moisturizer.   

I’m a bag of mess: 

• my face now resembles to the skin of a tree trunk – trust me, I am scared myself

• when I look at myself, I see a raccoon

• and where am I getting these facial rashes? – or I just thought I never had them before? hehehe

• my red nail polish has 2 mm gap from the roots. Cheap.

• I don’t have a social life at all anymore, I even missed birthdays

To top it all, I didn’t even have the time to remember *tweedledee* and *tweedledum* being swallowed by the rabbit hole apart by 5 days. Imagine that!?! Which to a close friend I heard myself asking:  Did I really just imagine the confusions I entangled myself with? Or maybe this is the bitter me… nah, I guess the exhausted OFW me…   The truth now?

·        A massage would be heavenly

·        An uninterrupted sleep will be precious

·        A hot oil treatment will be blissful

·        Yeah, a rom-com movie on a day off will be divine

·        A morning getaway - PRICELESS...

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Javert

I once put a scenario like this:  Someone posted your photographs before your nose job and you breaking out in hysterics untagged yourself seconds after they hit FBs news page. In between gasps, you sweat and wait for other 'blasts of the pasts' to show up. And only if you can untag those other friends or unfriend those in the tag especially the culprit.

But the truth is you cannot run away from the past and the truth that grips your heart. Including facing people we want forgiveness from and people we should set free by our forgiveness.

It’s an inarguable truth in our lives: we will always have a Javert in our lives who will feel like a ‘stone inside our socks’ - giving us discomfort every time we walk and constantly reminding us of its presence while we’re on rest. One who reminds us of our ‘sinful’ days, good years that ended ugly, a shameful event or simply an episode in our lives that we just want to edit out. One who kicks us up from sleep at wee hours of the morning so hard that we will not be able to get back to bed again. Constantly popping up on our favourite restaurants and spoiling our dinner until we are empowered to invite them to share our meal.  

But as a good teacher of mine has put it, we at some of point in our lives, is also a Javert to others… and guiltily, cradle and nurture our own Javerts into our own embrace to torture our own selves. 

Or worse, we are sometimes gripped by hypocrisy that we strut around saying we have easily forgiven the other party who has caused us pain but pin them down with blame to free ourselves from hurt and own guilt.

Should forgiveness be dictated by pride? Decreed by the law? Redeemed by time? Held and decided by age or gender? The blunder to be outshined by good deeds before we set free our own prisoners from judgment and captivity?

Why do we sometimes choose to stuff our backpacks with strings of hurts, hatred, guilt, blame that cause us not to forgive when it so much easier to shake our bags of the unnecessary loads? Why do we choose to carry them around when it doesn’t require too much muscle to lift it up and throw outside the window?

Because even if we always know what is the right thing to do or what self-help books dictate, or the fact that it is commanded, the power to completely forgive others and ourselves can only come from the grace of God. And by the truth that at the end of the day, the sinful us, are always forgiven repeatedly and unconditionally by our gracious God. So who are we to hold others so tightly by our own judgments and verdicts before we finally say: I forgive you?  

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mickey mouse

The pain still grips my heart in silence and leaves it lifeless in darkness. My tears still run and stop on cue as if remote-controlled. I still wear and rip the masks in a flash. The whole being of me is still trampled on the same spot on the floor where it slumped 21 months ago. Not even an inch it moved.

It's like keeping the death at bay by cheating. Scraping off the disease layer by layer, filling the empty space with lies to be able to sleep at night. And watch the sun peeps through the window to realize I slept only a blink. 

I am as broken as I say and don’t say I am – saved and sustained only by the grace of the almighty God. 

You asked if I ever thought of you on that specific time? Yes you were in my sight the whole time, because you never left my mind. I still know exactly how your fingers wrap an iced tea glass. I still remember exactly how your lips slowly curve a smile. Whenever you type in ‘haaayyyy’ in the chat window, I still remember how it sounds – frustrated or not. There was not a time I never thought of us. There was never a time I dreamed of Disneyland that you were not Mickey Mouse. And there was never a night that I don’t remember how I would like to be wrapped in your arms. 

You feel mad. You may feel that your ego was crushed, but you did not die. 

I hide during the storm because I never wanted to look up where and when the ‘us’ stopped. 

Every time you pop and say ‘hi’. Again and again I’m feeling the last time it hurt.

I wouldn’t know how have I stayed alive, because when I said goodbye, I was only hoping for once you will let go of your pride and ask me ‘Why?’. Because you know I’m crazy, because you know I was ripped by distance, because you know how much I wanted for us to take that step and you were holding the reign too tight. 

I’m not selfish because from time to time it was a struggle to stay alive, because from then until now I love you very much.

I am writing this, hoping that for the first time, sleep will come.

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cushioned landing

But the heart cannot be confused. And the truth cannot be twisted. Even the exhaustion of the living daylight blurs the lines between love and logic - or pride or holding on or longing or familiarity or frustrations or responsibilities or fear, etc... Or guilt or blame towards yourself keeps you awake at night. Because after you stepped in to the ebb of make-believes, to make the story ends the way the pen wishes, the truth kicks your ass up at wee hours of the morning and you cannot drag yourself back to bed again.

At some point, you have to get out of the dark and face your greatest fear. And if the end it happened like you have feared, yes at first you will be shaken, but you will know that the biggest part of it was just imagined. Because what is meant, is meant to happen. After turbulence has raged havoc and your feet are back on the ground, you thank God for knowing your heart, for making you stand for the consequences of your actions, for helping you let go of your pride and for dropping you with a cushioned landing amid the chaos. 

Not every relationship has a Hollywood-couple-getting-divorce saying the decision is mutual and they remain friends. That’s a crap but there’s nothing to be guilty about. 

In the end, the best things are: you learned, you broke free from the grips of fear and you surrendered to God’s will. For all the emotional slavery you have tangled yourself with and string of events you have no control of only God has the answer. 

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Crazy DNA and more

No earthly love is more profound than a mother’s love.

She gives unconditionally. Forgives easily. Cares incessantly. The moment she missed her period, her life stopped becoming only her own.

While she rejoices in each triumph you bagged, or her chin tilts a little too high every time you march on the ramp, her own heart bleeds for every scratch and bruise on your knees and blames herself for your every misstep. And it doesn’t matter for how many children she has to do the routine of rearing, raising and giving away and how much pain she has to endure and how many wounds she has to tend for catching every time each one falls.  

She may pass on crazy DNAs that make you hate her at some point. How she seems to be always looking over your shoulder as if waiting for that perfect moment you bend and she gloats. Or watching for the flaw of every date you take home. Or you may never forget how she criticizes your taste for nail polish and men, for your choice of friends and careers. Blame her for your big hair, for your bow legs or narrow hips. But the extra inches on her waist, the marks after her tummy swelled and shrunk, the ugly sight of veins on her legs, just tell the vanity that she has dropped to lovingly embrace the lifetime title of being a mom.

Win or lose, she will always be there to cheer on the sidelines of your races. And each meal, she has to prepare more than one menu, for one who eats only fried and for one who’s allergic to shrimps. And even if you’re old enough and she’s sick herself, and it’s so obsolete and you don't know the medical explanation, she will advise you to rub on Vicks Vaporub when you have colds.

And to my mom, I love you even if we don’t share the same middle name. Even if I was fed in bottle and not on your breast. Or even if you missed my PTA meetings, the agenda were always the same each year anyway and yeah, it was same set of people who get elected. (Or the fact that our adobos don’t taste the same.)

What I will always remember is the moment you stood for my fight when I was so weak to stand on my own even if it means we will be cut off from the upcoming family reunions.

And I love you even if it’s not yet your birthday… even if it’s not mother’s day… even if I say ‘I love you Tatay’ more often.

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Making peace with the past

Someone posted your photographs before your nose job and you breaking out in hysterics untagged yourself seconds after they hit FBs news page. In between gasps, you sweat and wait for other 'blasts of the pasts' to show up. And only if you can untag those other friends or unfriend those in the tag especially the culprit.

But the truth is you cannot run away from the past.

You cannot simply bury those spiraled gigantic photo albums your mom has sweetly compiled from your first haircut to your college graduation or feed them to termites.

Why one should make peace and embrace his/her past?

·         So it won’t show up in your nightmares – or screw up your future, as an adage goes.

·         It’s natural. Not everybody has that straight, smoothly paved, unblemished past. So after the laughter died down at reunions or drinking sessions because of your blunder or missteps, one will give you a pat on the shoulder and say: “Welcome to the club!”.

·         Because it involves other people - maybe a family, a relative, a friend or someone you shared with hundreds of dinners, mocha frappes, Lucky Me Pancit Canton and your monthly salary.

·         Because the world does not revolve around your own selfish whims. So stop thinking you were the only one hurt, you were the only one mistreated… etc… etc… it’s just so pointless, selfish and immature.

·         Because you cannot heal only from the outside. Some truths and wounds need to be visited to be mended. It’s not just the effect that needed fixing, sometimes it is the cause that needs to be resolved.

And trust me, it won’t kill you. So learn and let go.

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