WORLD PREMIERE: Betty Boop and Her If-Not-Now,-When?! Gaze

What do you normally wear on your first date? For someone who hardly believes in best-foot-forward theatrics, I make sure to be bubbly and bold. Hence, weeks before the much-anticipated date with my beloved Brandon Boyd, I have decided to bare my heart. Red galore, it is!

The problem is, Juaning took it upon herself to be the band's welcoming committee. Upon hearing they landed safely, my relief was quickly replaced by worry that morning. My plaid shorts and sneakers were still soaking wet in the backyard! So I retrieved them and prayed hard that our electric fan can do wonders before I wake up that afternoon.

I had been very preoccupied the past days that I had no time to sit down and decide what to wear - except for that red tube top. I even wore the plaid shorts Monday morning for a cameo appearance in the mall and went rummaging for it in my messy bed Tuesday morning only to realize it was already being handwashed and, thanks to the heavy rains, might not make it to the concert. When I rose from bed that afternoon, this undomesticated Curacha had to iron the jacket and the shorts myself. Don't you just hate typhoons?

Still, the unpredictable weather was my last-minute major consideration for what I wore for my first date with Incubus. I never favor denim pants during rainy season (even on summer, to be accurate) hence the plaid shorts. The jacket is self-explanatory. Bag? Something waterproof would be wise. After all, it houses the all-important concert tickets and kikay kit. But try saying that to Betty Boop and her piercing if-not-now,-when?! gaze.

It was already 17:20. As the ticket keeper, I knew I had to dash. The commute from Cavite to Cubao always called for cutthroat competition against fellow motorists and other unknown elements in this concrete jungle. Then I stopped dead in my tracks. My rainy season footwear would be either my default flip flops which made a mysterious disappearing act last week or sneakers which were still drenched from the incessant rain. And so were my ballet shoes! Now what? I had to search for a dry pair of shoes that actually complement the red theme AND can withstand the puddle along the way. But I had none! I went back to my room and grabbed the first pair I saw. Ako na ang fashion victim!

More fangirl blabs here.



Where did my makeup go?


Inside the SMART Araneta Coliseum!


Inside the KTV. We girls can't get enough of Incubus. We had to sing their songs ourselves after.



Check out the mismatched shoes!

Red tube from Dorothy Perkins
Plaid shorts from Bench
Mum's grey jacket
Betty Boop bag from Divisoria
Keevee's pre-loved Converse wedges

Photos by Phyll.

So You Think Big Boobs Will Make You Happy?

So you think big boobs will make you happy. Have you heard my story?

Even before I became a teen, I started to take notice of the growing twins inside me. It was awkward to be waaaay ahead of the race. Although growth spurt may be ordinary that time, I yearned for my friends to relate to the extraordinary amount of change I went through. I was the first to outgrow baby bras and always the last to purchase the ones with maximum support. With lace and bold designs, please!

Do I make it appear as if carrying papayas were so much fun?

If I make it appear as if it were so much fun, please think again. I can still get offended when random gapeseeds engage in a silent staredown with my kids. It's freaky to receive personal messages online with title that goes like ( . )( . ) It can get saturating how other women feel comfortable talking about my mammary glands within my earshot daily. It's anti-climactic to dig boobfuls of sand before I can finally go sunbathing. It's frustrating that I can't crawl in Sumaging Cave in Sagada nor tie my own shoelaces as easily because these humps get in the way. It's sometimes far from relaxing when massage beds don't offer breathing space for my chest. See what I mean?

Some girls have to dig before they can get to do sun salutation, you know!


How come massage beds aren't boobs-friendly?!
Thank you, Google Images!

Sure, you can argue this abundance is better than to your sob story of scarcity and point to countless depictions of big breasts as the ultimate weapon of seduction. However, I oftentimes feel inadequate when I see breast exposures on movies, magazines and websites. Such makes me scared of full moons and gravitational pulls. Makes me feel sad my nipples aren't pink and small enough. Makes me ashamed of their distance to each other, my stretch marks and all. Heck, I can probably pose nude as long as you will let me conceal my chest.

Ang ganda ng Pamilacan Island in Bohol, no? Wait, what are you staring at?

It's ironic that what most people assume as my biggest asset sometimes feel like my biggest insecurity. Aside from what I mentioned above, I slightly blame it on boobs for all the continued encounters with perverts and my perceived too-boobsey-to-be-taken-seriously image. The flick 100 Girls probably best explained why men are so drawn to this particular body part. See, its three concentric rings best resemble a dartboard that anyone with an appendage will do and say anything to hit the bull’s eye. And it makes me feel like a target, a plaything they can discard right after. Let me laugh out bitterly here in the corner.

I would like to afford a breast reduction procedure when I grow up. I now accept donations. =P

Who has a big heart to help me with my boob job fund?
Image lifted here.

What's Next to My Hairstory? Short and Funky, Yes?

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
- William Shakespeare's "Sonnet 130"

Since the onset of the year, I've been developing this obsession on chopping my long curls off and possibly donating these dry tangles to good use. It's been ages since I had my enhanced long curls! This time, I wish to experiment and move on to another unrepresented hairstyle in today's TV advertisements. Blame it on my Saturn return.

Natural Born Sexy!

Me and my curly top had a long history of togetherness. Sadly, the first two decades witnessed my constant need to pull them back into ponytails and hide them from public view in all means possible. I was immensely envious of girls with straight hair. They look effortlessly presentable, neat and feminine. I, on the other hand, had to settle in my short-lived moments of glory after shower and the daily woolgathering that ensues. While most kids ask Santa Claus for material things, I begged for straight hair.

Looking unhappy during my 7th birthday.

My memory escapes me if I actually asked my mother to get rid of my curls or what. But I remember she had it regularly maintained as a bob, thanks to the unwelcome parasites that she claimed would join forces and take me floating in the air. There were times I wished they actually did. It was probably more elating than being poked fun for being the Francis Magalona of the class. We never heard of Pia Magalona in the early 90's yet, damn it.

Who says fly away hair was just in the 80's? It's the story of my childhood years!


Can't my hair be tamed like this forever? Please?


Straight hair daw 'yan!

My hair eventually lost its virginity at age 12. I had it straightened, hoping it will appear longer and better by graduation time. I wished to have long hair and flip them over my shoulders just like everybody else in class. As you can see in the photo above, it hardly made it to my shoulders. For my succeeding hair treatments - hair straightening, hair relax, and others – they always left me momentarily satisfied. In spite of my pleas, the natural curls always found its way out of my scalp just like any unstoppable attention whore would.

Relaxed hair

Worse, I finally noticed how my bi-annual treatments caused damage on my supposed crowning glory. I probably had one of those cinematic moments when I probed the girl in the mirror how longer will this bondage take. I’ve gone weary of attempting to comply to the ubiquitous instructions to go straight and fabulous. In that order. By the time I realize I must celebrate these God-given curls, however, my hair follicles hardly produced the ones I was accustomed to since childhood. The wild curls had been reduced to mere waves. And that was unacceptable.

First-time perm by Kerastase.

As soon as our 13th month pay got credited in 2007, I took my hair to Kerastase for digital perm. When I was told it amounted to about P8,000, I changed my mind and asked for the regular perm instead. I instantly felt the almost P5,000 difference right after. My new curls started from the roots! For this unwanted big hair look, I wallowed into a tall pile of pasta and pizza nearby and breathlessly waited for the next 13th month pay.

Digital perm by Tony & Jackey.

Taking my past lesson with me, I instructed the Tony & Jackey hairstylist to create bold waves right below my ears. Jerome agreed with my plan, but he felt it was necessary to rebond the entire hair before the digital perm. That way, the upper hair would look tame and it wouldn't look like Mufasa all over again. He had me at "Para maganda!" And so I emerged out of the salon feeling that way. It felt P5,000 was really worth it!

Ang haba ng hair! NOT in a good way, though.

My hair had a break in 2009. The following year, I was torn between another digital perm or dreadlocks. The latter proved to be impractical in the humid coastal town where I reside in and, based on one artist's quotation, too costly at P8,000 and too time-consuming for at least 12 hours for my then hair length. As 28th birthday gift to myself, I submitted my hair to Be@utyBrick for my second round of digital perm for P4,000. Mr. Shin typically asks his digital perm clients if they want it lady-like or wild. I opted for the former, considering the parade of weddings I would be attending by the following month.

Potentially last digital perm by Mr. Shin of Be@utyBrick.
Photo by Kimmeh.

It took me longer than the usual to decide about my last hair treatment as I had traded my favorite hair products with organic ones. It's been more than a year since I indulged my scalp with eco-friendly products from Human Heart Nature, All Organics, Ilog Maria and Nature's Gate that doing another digital perm made me feel guilty. I've heard about Tony & Jackey's organic digital perm. Unfortunately, P8,000 for mid-length hair is too steep for me. I know, hair treatments can be considered investments.

This year, I've been toying with the idea of fully celebrating my natural curls without any help from damaging chemicals. And cutting it short and funky may be the answer. However, I've been getting varied answers from my friends. I was told my oval-shaped face might suffer from separation anxiety from its long-time curtains. Some say it just might be the refreshing change I've been looking for. To cut it short is one thing, but going pixie might be too absurd. But...but...it worked for other fab plumpies!

Exhibit A: Leslie and her edgy look!


Exhibit B: Mia's perfect cut!


Exhibit C: My mum as a dye-hard blonde!

Now, now...I must get resuscitated and be mindful that this hairstyle calls for lots of maintenance. I'm known for my lack of patience even when it involves my appearance and I am yet to find something organic that will make me change my mind about this hair wax. Is there any wash-and-wear pixie hair made for me? Will my curls cooperate this time? Will this plotted hairstyle just remind it of my old refusal to accept it the way it is? Tell me what you think.