[Bikini] Postcards from the Philippines

It doesn't really take a migratory bird to act on this all-important impulse to take advantage of the summer heat. With about 7,100 islands to explore and with our God-given bronze beauties, it is NOT right for us to remain exposed to the artificial light and stressors in the workplace. Follow where the summer breeze leads us and spread the ♫♪ summer lovin' ♪♫!

Ooops, I forgot. There's this unavoidable display of skinny celebrities in bikini along EDSA and continued circulation of magazines with cover girls in nothing but skimpy outfits and smirk by now. Recently, I unearthed this Blair Bitch postcard that reads NO FAT PEOPLE ALLOWED! What else could dampen the spirit and the urge to don a bikini, right?

That Blair Bitch postcard.

Cheer up, girl. As Danah put it, everybody is a bikini body, because no one should dictate which ones are allowed to wear one and which ones are not.

In response to the abovementioned postcard, here's a slideshow of my favorite beach moments in swimwear, kaftan...and whatever my self-esteem and/or budget allowed me to wear that time. I'm glad this journey to body acceptance is documented with our local shores in the background

Postcard from White Beach, Puerto Galera, 2005.
Tankini top and matching shorts from SM Department Store.


Postcard from Olango Island, Cebu, 2005. With Fristine.


Postcard from Splash Island, Laguna, 2005.
Haltered top from Landmark Department Store, purple sarong from Edzelove.


Postcard from Sagada, 2005.
Tankini top from SPF.


Postcard from Coco Beach, Puerto Galera, 2006.
Haltered tankini top from Speedo, off-shoulder top as cover-up from ukay ukay shop.


Postcard from Talipanan, Puerto Galera, 2006.
Striped tube top from Blued.


Postcard from White Beach, Puerto Galera, 2006.


Postcard from Mansud Wall, Davao, 2006.


Postcard from Pagsanjan, Laguna, 2007.


Postcard from Pagudpud, Ilocos Norte, 2008.
Red tube top from Dorothy Perkins to conceal my two-piece bikini.


Postcard from Pamilacan Island, Bohol, 2008
Tankini top and bikini from Wet Shop.



Postcard from Anawangin, Zambales, 2009. With my traveling doll, Raya.
White kaftan from Coco Cabaña. Underneath: the same tankini and bikini worn in Bohol.


Postcard from White Island, Camiguin, 2009.
Haltered tankini from Speedo and light blue kaftan.


Postcard from Cagayan de Oro, 2009. [Getting ready to go whitewater rafting with friends]
Haltered tankini from Speedo, swimming skirt and floral kaftan from my friend's tiangge store in St. Francis Square.


Postcard from Zambales, 2010.
Tie-dyed tank top and printed bikini [not seen much in this photo].


Postcard from Vigan, 2010.
That overused polka dotted tankini top and bikini from Wet Shop.


Postcard from Boracay, 2010.
One-piece swimwear from Speedo.


Postcard from Sabtang Island, Batanes, 2011.
Recycling that swimwear worn in Boracay.


Postcard from Sabtang Island, Batanes, 2011.
Kaftan from H&M.

Yeah, yeah, I need a sponsor for my swimwear. =P

Body acceptance is one helluva journey. Up to now, I fall victim to those moments. I still sometimes feel too unpretty and too huge to get half-naked in the beach. Worse, I even feel unprepared for whatever other beach bums would say about my body and the excess balls that go with it.

But then again, why worry over what strangers would think? Sure, we have family and bosses and other people to please, but should we really bring such thinking in our escapes? The beach is our runway, too. This summer, let's shed those inhibitions and leave them behind before boarding the bus or the plane. Summer lovin' starts from within!

INTRODUCTION

I must be sick. In my head, there's this pretty chubby woman in the mirror. In the real world, she's a hideous 180-pound top-heavy waste of space. And I just might be the last to know.

Taken during summer 2010 in Potipot Island, Zambales. Photo by Fristine.


Taken during November 2010 in Boracay. Photo by Carl.
Am I making you sick already? You can exit this page. NOW!

In the previous months, I have noticed how strangers felt licensed to talk about my weight. The cab driver who refused to shut up, the pool maintenance guy who shared his pessimistic view about my weight loss with his colleague even if I wasn't out of earshot yet, the barker who addressed me as "tabachoy", the ladies in the gym who provided me with unsolicited advice and so on.

So maybe it's high time for me to talk about it, too, huh?

I've always been big as far as I could remember. I was this instant standout among my skinny, prim & proper classmates and playmates as a kid. Everybody had this compulsion to pinch my cheeks and arms then give me a bear hug. In any order.

But, when one reaches puberty, it's not cute anymore. My body weight dwindled as often as MTV's launches for boy bands. I blame it on my inconsistent workout plan (read: short-lived cheerleading career) and relationship with food (read: emotional eating). Put that together and you'd really be in a bad shape.



Age 14. Possibly at my thinnest. How I hated my arms then!
This went on until college. Eventually, I found myself getting addicted to aerobics as response to the unpleasant turnout of a romantic relationship. I put all my angst, bitterness, sexual frustration and other negative energies to my daily one-hour workout. Back then, I've become this voluptuous chick. But the world does not agree at all. Fools!

As a yuppie, I initially juggled my full-time work in graveyard shift and freelance writing for magazines. My appetite grew insatiable in adaption to this new lifestyle. When I got too many "What happened to your waist?!" from colleagues and college friends, I started attending yoga classes, [then dropped it] and signed up for gym membership. That was my priority for months until the mind-blowing, self-esteem shrinking demands of graduate school in UP-Diliman caught up with me. I had to choose. Workout or bedtime during my rare free time? I opted for the latter.



L-R: Julie, Chiqui and I. Christmas 2006.

L-R: Me and my flabs, Jhen and Ayi. March 2007.
It's been 2 years since I realized graduate school robbed me of my neglected priorities. Yet, I remain the same big girl when I enrolled in the university. Last year witnessed my attempt to be a serious swimmer and, before the year ended, my enrollment in a gym near my place. Why am I doing this? What am I trying to achieve?

As a result of my tragic kneecap dislocation and meniscus tear for dancing drunk last year, my therapists strictly advised me to work on my weight loss. My knee can't take my excess fats anymore. Aside from this, I have polycystic ovaries which explains the hair fall, cystic acne, uneven skin tone & irregular menstrual period. The threat of infertility does not make me worry at this time. But its correlation to diabetes does. I tend to overindulge in sweets even in my dreams and, worse, we have family history of such. Case in point: my mother.

In spite of this pressure, I wish to retain my curves. I don't ask for toned biceps to replace my arms. Neither am I saving up for liposuction. I refuse to comply to mass media's depiction of sexiness! In my own opinion, I am beautiful and extra sexy for taking pride in my curves, morena skin, big curls and rambunctious laughter. Unlike most plus size women in this country, I have this strong relationship with off-shoulder tops, miniskirts and shorts. If I have to spend more to alter men's t-shirts so I would look better and feel more comfortable, I would. And I am crossing my fingers everybody else would be inspired to feel better about themselves.

However, I must confess I'm no poster kid 24/7. I have recurring moments of self-doubt and loathing. I can get intimidated by skinnier women. In fun pictorials with friends, I tend to be protective of my wings, double chin, belly rolls and other bulges. They're not meant for public consumption, I would remind them.

See, this journey to body acceptance can be looong and bumpy. I invite kindred spirits to make yourselves known, speak up and let's be one another's soul sister. We could use all the motivation and support that we can get.

And, for starters, pleeeease stop saying you're fat. You're extra sexy! Give yourself a big hug!


Hippie-ness! Photo by Chad Barreyro.