One ripe afternoon, two college girls draped themselves on the steps of the stairs that skirted out of a great hall. One’s lithe body seemed haphazardly flung, like a strip of satin left to conform to the contours of solid marble. Almost in a sunbathing manner, her head was tilted upward – towards the sun – like a Sunflower absorbing solar power. Confidence emanated from her manner –the one who was the taller of the two.
The shorter girl kept more to herself, it seemed. Her palms were wedged in the space formed and pressed between the back of the thighs and the calves – a curious folded position that almost mimics that of a fetus. Clearly, what sprang forth from her was an impression of subjugation and reserve.
The two were complementary to each other.
The taller girl suddenly hoisted herself up and faced the shorter one. She was bent on saying something – a confession?… an idea?… an unveiling? Continue reading “Two Ionas in a Shell”
I believe it is sometimes easy for other people from other homelands to bully a Filipino. Continue reading “Beauties Who Were Bullies”
Mommy Finger, Mommy Finger,
Where are you?
Here I am, here I am.
How do you do?” Continue reading “The Toddler Who Refused”
Something happened to Resorts World Manila. She did not know what that was – Cerese, who stays at home and has two windows to the world – the television and the internet. Continue reading “Something Happened to Resorts World Manila”
It was in the hour of half past ten in the evening when Crystal finally decided to stop moving and stop doing something. A lot happened all throughout the day, but she doesn’t recall a moment of resting or a brief time-out. Continue reading “…Busy Crystal”
“Completely exhausted by entire day of date – preparation. Being a woman is worse than being a farmer – there is so much harvesting and crop spraying to be done, legs to be waxed, underarms shaved, eyebrows plucked, feet pumiced, skin exfoliated and moisturized, spots cleansed, roots dyed, eyelashes tinted, nails filed, cellulite massaged, stomach muscles exercised. The whole performance is so highly tuned you only need to neglect it for a few days for the whole thing to go to seed. Sometimes I wonder what I would be like if left to revert to nature – with a full beard and handlebar moustache on each skin, Dennis Healey eyebrows, face a graveyard of dead skin cells, spots erupting, long curly fingernails like Struwelpeter, blind as bat and stupid runt of species as no contact lenses, flabby body flobbering around. Ugh, ugh. Is it any wonder girls have no confidence? Continue reading “Minding Bridget Jones”