Fashionista Yes. Fashionista No.

Inside a Uniqlo store, I found myself in a quandary about whether or not to buy me a pair of jeans – the distressed type with apparent damage, as shown in the picture above. My 62-year old legs were the main reasons for keeping me from buying them. Appropriateness, propriety, sense of decency and my 27-year marriage were the others.

Times like this, I need a lifeline. And so I took this picture on my phone and sent it to my family with the message:

“Will you disown me wearing this?”

Daughter: hahahahaha!

Son: 😶

Wife: Hmmm.

Cryptic answers are the worst, you agree? You need a yes or a no, and you get all sorts of responses that make life even more difficult than before you asked. Good thing I’ve gone familiar with all sorts of codes and unwritten hieroglyphics seen on faces, eyeballs and eyebrows. Sometimes raised elbows, too.

Conclusion: the unanimous answer was a resounding NO!

The universe ain’t fair, but a happy family is a happy life. With my tail tucked between my legs, I bought me a couple of standard, ultra stretch skinny-fit jeans if only to stop my self-esteem from sliding down any further. I am wearing one now as I raise this coffee cup.

Life is.

Cheers!

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Yep. I Was Once a Heartthrob.

Well, sort of. Words to that effect. Bear with me.

I was a 16-year old, cute, naive college freshman with bangs that I blow with my lips pursed asymmetrically so that the air rushes upward. I lived with my two brothers and a cousin in the ground floor of a three-story house in Tondo, Manila. Our landlord and his family occupied the rest.

Now this family had two maids. And we are getting into the exciting part of this post.

And you guessed it right: the maids had a crush on me. They didn’t show their admiration by shrieking wildly with placards that say, “Marry Me” or “I ❤️ U” whenever I enter the house. Instead, they stole glances every once in a while and, this: brought food like hamburgers and kakanin not just for me but for all of us.

My cousin, who is older than me was the playboy of the brood. He knew how to play this game.

He told me to stay often in the backyard where the laundry hang. This was an open area where anyone from above can see us. He also told me to smile at every opportunity for them to see. And to wear tank tops. And to practice my tennis swings at the laundry area even if I had yet to pick up the game then. But who cares, right? Pancit is good anytime of the day.

I shot down the idea of doing Integral Calculus housework by the clotheslines, though. I wanted to graduate on time. Money is precious.

So is food. Free food. We all loved it, so I played on. Hamburgers kept coming. Our cholesterol levels went up the roof.

The entire brood graduated from college and got jobs and went on to live our separate lives. As for the maids who would drop their mops for a glimpse of my shadow, I don’t know. Not that I didn’t care. I did. It’s still a good feel knowing I was appreciated.

I raise this cup to them.

Cheers!

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My Rhombicosidodecahedron I Love

You need me

  to take out the garbage, not later but now!

  to mop the floor

  to do the laundry

  to zip your dress

  to tickle your fancy

  to make you laugh

  to mop the floor the second time

  to drive you a distance

  to reach for that thing way beyond your vertical reach

  “No, not that one. Ya, that one.”

I need you to need me

Without it, I am no longer the person I am supposed to be. 

Your man

Your lover

Your everyday man-Friday.  

   Need me more

   Move me more

   Love me more. 

Happy birthday, doe-a-dear Rissa

Happy Mother’s Day, too.

I love you. 

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My Final Post…

I can see signs of the times: people exchanging faces and sweats in trains; seniors blowing their noses in public; and, I don’t see O X O X in urinals anymore. Yep, methinks the pandemic is nearing its end. It’s that or we are all beginning to live with the unseen enemy -regarding it like the simple flu or upper diarrhea.

That is good news, I’d like to believe. This is the reason why I hope this will be the last post in my pandemic chronicles.

Just a few things I want to write about -what this pandemic took away from us.

Pia, our 8-year old little neighbor used to holler “Bye!” on top of her voice from the back of the car with her Lola or mommy driving past our house on their way to school. With online classes, that morning order came to a halt when the virus struck. That big bye holler would have, in the past two years, transitioned into a mild bye shout, to a murmur bye, to just a wave of the hand, to too-busy-tiktoking-to-wave. Enjoying the transition is part of life’s enjoyment. But none of that happened.

Babies became toddlers.

Toddlers became big kids.

Hair turned gray.

Weight went over.

Negative was something positive.

Health became mental.

Promises were forgotten.

Fake news spread.

Common sense shrunk.

Carabaos flew.

I want to holler BYE! pandemic. You’ve had your time. Enough already.

I’ll drink this cup in peace.

Cheers!-

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