I Am The Walrus

PROLOGUE: Sorry if I’m going to sound pompous because of this entry. I’ve had a pretty rough few days, what with work hitting me like an asteroid right at the first hour after the holidays. Never mind that I’m sick — let’s set that aside. I just need to feel better.

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First, you have to decide to lose weight. You need to decide. You can’t just say "I think I’d like to lose weight". You have to say "I have to have to have to lose weight". It’s all about motivation. And the best kind of motivation is having the moral decision to actually do something.

Your motivation can’t come from a person (I want to lose weight because my boyfriend wants me to). It can’t come from a thing (I want to lose weight because I want to fit in a bikini this summer). It has to come from you — wanting it for it’s own merit. To lose weight for the sake of losing weight. And nothing else.

And then you do the following:

1. Eating habits: Go down to bare essentials. A decent meal consists of a carb-source and a protein source. Rice and fish. A ham sandwich. Fish and Onion oatmeal with dilis bits (you have to try this. It’s heaven to the palate). Everything else is a luxury. You DON’T need soda to finish lunch. You DON’T need nuts to start off a meal. At the very least, you can have dessert. Fruit, in particular, like a slice of mango or a small can of pineapples. Since I love chocolate, I’m going to say yes to it, but in decent portions. And at MOST, one serving a day. A medium size bar of Kitkat, I’d say is enough. Or half a Snickers bar.

Just cutting down on unnecessary food and drinks will mean a lot to a healthier diet.

2. Developing an Exercise Regime: Get Off Your Ass! A lot of people frown at exercise. I used to. But if you introduce it in your system, you’ll find yourself craving for it. It’s relaxing and even therapeutic to let out all that sweat. After a broken heart caused by that Virus Man, I went out and rode my bike for an hour. Instead of crying, I let the sweat fall from my brow to my nose to my chin. When I got home, I felt better.

The simplest exercise is walking. It is also the best way to prepare your oft-sedentary body for movement that didn’t involve a refrigerator. I started by taking the stairs on my way out of the building — 15 floors, about 30 flights of stairs. It’s not so bad since it’s a descent, you’re not going against gravity. And I’ve timed it, and it’s about 15 minutes. At 200 calories an hour, you’ve burned 40 calories. Not bad.

And then your body gets used to the movement, you build endurance,then slowly you can go up a notch — walk greater distances, start running or biking.

I read somewhere that the perfect exercise should match your personality. If you’re competitive, then you should get into a sport-type of activity like badminton or basketball. If you like dancing, like me, there are TONS of exercise videos that you can buy. I’m using Hiphop Abs now and it’s awesome.

3. Etcetera, etcetera.

- Buy a weighing scale. It’s only P300. You can’t track your progress if you don’t have the meter.

- Alcohol, unfortunately, makes you gain weight. Although the stuff itself is as heavy as soda calorie-wise, it encourages eating beyond what’s necessary. Ever downed a large pack of Lapid’s chicharon while finishing off three bottles of beer?

- I operate on a reward-punishment basis, a system I learned from how my parents raised me. (Good grades? Here’s a barbie doll! Bad grades? No field trip! My grade school life in four sentences). So when I’ve been particularly good in eating terms, I treat myself to a scoop of ice cream or one WHOLE bar of chocolate. When I’ve been bad — pizza, pasta, chicken and coke, for example — I need to burn at least half that through exercise. So if I guzzle down three beers the night before — 300 calories total — I need to run 300 calories worth. About an hour around the UP academic oval.

- Drinking lots of water helps the weight loss and gives you nice skin too.

- Have yogurt or a yogurt drink every other day for calcium and to help with digestion. You need to shit every day. No kidding. If you don’t, you have a problem.

- There will be days when you crave for something salty, like chips and nuts. But keep these in moderation, too. A small bag of chips is enough. Finishing a whole cylinder of Pringles is about 1,000 calories — like eating 5 cups of rice. Nuts are a good protein source, sure, but fat content is high, and it goes straight to that unsightly belly (which I still have boohoo). Keep your nuts consumption to half a cup at most.

It helps to eat these undesirables — chips, nuts, chocolate — slowly and in small pieces. Don’t inhale it, for crying out loud.

- I find that sleeping late also encourages unnecessary eating so make sure you’re horizontal by 12mn.

- Finally, let me say this. There’s more to life than food! There are books and DVDs and friends and nature and sleep and hugs. If you find yourself stressed and depressed, there are other ways to heal.

Oh, and there’s also blogging.

Over breakfast last Tuesday, March 18, I looked at the time —- 830am —- and I thought about "What was happening at exactly this time five years ago". I remember waking up. I was lying on a gurney. Monitors silently beeping around me. I look down on my horizontal body and didn’t see the bump I lagged for nine months. A nurse walked past me and I tried to call her but my voice was hoarse. I just got out of surgery. "San na yung baby ko?" I asked with difficulty. And I was told to rest and not to talk. Yup, as I sipped my coffee last Tuesday, I remembered when I woke up a mother.

It’s been a challenging five years. I can’t call it difficult. If it was, I never really noticed. There were mostly money troubles in the first few years, what with milk and diapers and vaccines, but I’ve managed to work out all the debts and now I earn enough to buy myself something pretty once in a while.

If I were to recall the difficult times, it would be the hospitals. One hospital visit, in particular. Cojie was barely a year old. Our car was broken. It was midnight. Cojie was running a fever of about 38. We doze off to sleep, and I wake up and Cojie’s fever had risen to 40. He started crying. My mother carried him. In a matter of minutes, his eyes had rolled revealing only the whites and I felt my heart explode. We ran out into the dark of night — me, my mom and my dad — and practically threw ourselves onto whatever oncoming vehicle was in our path. A barangay patrol took us to the hospital. And while in the vehicle, Cojie suddenly stopped crying. Imagine — a litttle baby crying for almost an hour suddenly stops —- I let out a stifled scream.

When we finally got to the hospital, had Cojie stabilized, I sat down beside my mom and just bawled my eyes out.

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Boohoo. Enough with the drama, though. The best part about being a mom is having a child as awesome as Cojie.

This year, in particular, was an amazing ride for both of us. You know, during the first few years —- and this is horrible for me to say —- but I thought of my baby more as a little pet I had to feed and groom and change diapers and all that. But the last few years, especially this year, I met Cojie, my son, as a person.

Cojie has a sense of ownership. He values his things. I have made him cry several times because of my lack of tact. Once, I made him a paper airplane. He played with it a couple of times. But then I had to start the grill — fine, may iihawin ako —- and I needed a piece of paper to start up the fire. And the paper airplane was just lying around. So I took it and set it on fire and plopped it on top of the coals. My son passed by and saw it. He cried like an actual airplane was burning. I thought it was sweet. (Epilogue: I made him another one. What kind of a sadist mother do you think I am?)

He is also a great gift-receiver. His eyes just sparkle when you give him something, especially when it’s something he likes. For his birthday, I took the simple errand of printing a wallpaper of the movie cars as a mini-poster he could put in our room. When he saw it, he almost crumpled it when he hugged it. The first thing we did when we got home was to put up the poster. And whenever we have visitors, he drags them to our room to show the poster.

I’ve also recently discovered that my son can be sipsip. For the end-of-year activity, my mother and I went with him to school to watch his class dance to "Xanadu" (Yes. Xanadu. It wasn’t as bad as I thought. Cojie’s hetero. I think.) He was stopping us from going with him to the classrooms where they were to prepare, because the guests should be in the auditorium and not the classrooms. Eh, we were bigger and older and damn it, I paid for his glittery, gold costume, so I didn’t listen.

And yes, my son — like his mother —- kicks ass on the dance floor. He moves to the beat. He knows the steps. (Unlike the other kids, he wasn’t looking at his teacher). And he has a charming little smile when he dances. Also — thank God — he dances like a good guy dancer does. Like a little Mark Herras without the speech defect.

I don’t know why, but I felt proud. I never expected him to know the multiplication table at age five or know all the names of the countries. But the fact that he can dance is a big deal to me.

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Let me answer some of the FAQs I’ve received over the years regarding my single momhood.

How’s your baby?

He’s five and is about four feet. I think we can no longer call him a baby.

Do you still talk to your ex? (Cojie’s dad)

Not in at least three years. Last Christmas, his (Cojie’s dad’s) mother messaged my mother to ask if we know about his son’s (Cojie’s dad’s) whereabouts, and we said no. So it speaks a lot about this man’s character knowing that he hasn’t spoken to his mother for God knows how long. So if you’re my friend, you clearly don’t want me to be associated with him any further.

Has Cojie’s dad offered any support?

Hard to offer support if you don’t know where supporter is. (There’s a green joke there somewhere)

Has Cojie asked questions about his dad?

It’s testament to how wonderful my own father is that Cojie has so far hasn’t asked about it. I guess he knows he has his lolo all to himself. Since we had Cojie, my relationship with my parents has evolved to more like business partners. It’s not a bad thing…. in fact, I think of it as a good thing. I think there’s more respect there somewhere. So they can throw all their maternal/paternal affection onto Cojie and I wouldn’t mind. (I want another kind of affection anyways haha).

If you could get back together with Cojie’s father, would you?

Not after I lost a lot of weight and spent good money on beauty products, no. It’s like saving up a million pesos and buying a million- peso owner-type-jeepney. I think I deserve nothing less than a BMFuckingW.

If you could have kids again, would you?

I’d like a husband first, that would be awesome. But if I could… not until Cojie reached a mature age, like 10 or 12 (I’ll be 36 or 38) probably.

What advice would you give to a newly single mom?

It’s not as hard as it looks, sounds, feels. Especially if you look at the perks of it. Freedom, for one. And not having to argue with someone when it comes to decisions regarding your child.

But a single mom in the dating world… ah, that’s a whole new blog altogether.

I’ve said it before. The rich have more problems than me. They sleep in air-conditioned rooms, vacation in Amanpulo, have breakfast in UCC, gamble in Macau, walk around Greenbelt with their Gucci Bags and their CMG shoes, spend thousands and thousands of money straightening their hair, then curling it, then cutting it, then having extensions. But they would kill to have my life.

I realize this again when I came across an addicting and entertaining blog, which was referred to me one day by my seatmate/officemate/flyermate Shady Los Angeles. It is sick how fascinated I am by this blog. And I will refer you to the link once you finish my entry.

It basically talks about the squabbles of the filthy rich: their careers wasting space in newspaper columns with fashion and society events, which we REAL writers could fill up with prose and intelligent discourse about politics, the environment, space travel, the future of mankind, EXTRA TERRESTRIAL LIFE! (pant… pant… pant…) , their petty fights over who sleeps with whom and when and how, and of course, the biggest problem they always face: MONEY. Too much of it or lack of it. It’s always a problem.

And here I am, in my tiny little room, typing on my little computer that only cost me P25k (ni-loan pa sa bangko!), the humid summer air being quenched by my brandless electric fan (Nova? Not the junk food), my books right beside me — rescued from various bargain bins around the metro, while watching the third episode of the first season of The West Wing (on pirated DVD) via my pirated copy of Cyberlink DVD.  My son is sleeping on our double-deck bed which we bought from one of the suburban furniture stores in Marikina. And in front of me is my ever-reliable Motorola L6 — sleek and cheap — which hasn’t stopped beeping all evening, from texts of friends whose lives are as simple and insane as mine.

Tomorrow morning, I will take a bath (using timba and tabo) and do my morning rituals, watch Unang Hirit while eating oatmeal, put on my fairly fashionable outfits —- an assortment of clothes from F & H, Bayo, Plains & Prints, Tomato, and St. Francis Square tiangge —- and walk towards the San Mateo highway to take a jeepney ride to work.

I love my little life.

Oh yeah, the link to the blog: http://delfindjmontano.blogspot.com/ 

First Joy. Then me. Then Fafi. The plague has consumed us.

This one goes out to Fafi.

Forgiveness is cathartic. It’s true, that cliche, that when you forgive, it’s not the offender who achieves peace but you, the offended. There is a Zen-ness about forgiveness — especially if it’s an offense too harsh to comprehend — when it is given away freely, as a moral decision, without giving it a single thought.

I think in your mind, you still believe that "She took what’s mine". In your mind, you believe "She’s my bestfriend, how could she do this to me". And all your anger and hatred was poured towards her. So you confronted her. You had successfully let out all that bottled up emotion. I applaud you for that. And that’s why your anger towards her has died down.

But I say this: what she took was not an object. It was a thinking, feeling, and not-good-looking human being, who was supposed to have devoted himself to you. She wouldn’t have "stolen" him if he didn’t let himself be stolen. If she betrayed your friendship, he betrayed your love.

And it bewilders my mind that you don’t realize this. He cheated on you. Be mad at the friend for taking something that’s yours, but hell, be mad at the lover who didn’t put up a damn fight.

Like you. Like Joy. Like ME! We all deserve more than these losers we’ve poured our affections to. And sometimes the hardest thing to do is not to forgive other people but to forgive ourselves.

I prefer to take a passive role in this thing, like a host to a parasite. Nobody ever said we’ll always attract winners.

Premise: "He" was supposed to help "She" (financially, I mean) ship a package to another friend . After absolutely no communication for about a week or so, "He" picks up his phone and texts…

He: She, bigay ko sa iyo yung (undisclosed amount) sa Monday

She: Uy, salamat, He ha, kakahiya kasi, kailangan na talaga natin padala ito kay (undisclosed friend)

He: Ok lang yun. Gusto mo dalhin ko pa sa kanya e.

She: Ows, talaga? Bakit, pupunta ka ba sa (undisclosed place)?

He: Yup. Wag ka maingay. (Too Late. Harhar).

She: A, o sige. Kita na lang tayo sa Monday para abot ko yung package.

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Monday

She: So, san tayo mamaya?

He: May meeting ako ng 7pm e.

She: (Pissed at being blown off) Sige, padala ko na lang sa iyo. Basta, dalhin mo kay (undisclosed friend) yan ha.

He: Ay, san ba siya?

She: Sa bandang (undisclosed city in undisclosed place)

He: Ay, malapit ba yun sa (another undisclosed city in same undisclosed place where He is going)

She: Mga 4 hours drive daw.

He: Ay, di ko sure e.

She: (Angry beyond reason) So, ano gagawin natin, dadalhin mo ba ito o ipapa-fedex ko na lang?

He: Hmmm…. Sige, fedex mo na lang.

"She" calls up DHL for a quotation.

She: DHL will cost P2,117 which I will now shoulder.

He: Hala. Bakit mahal.

She hurls her phone across the room.

He never fails to disappoint.

This made my otherwise sucky day.

The X-files 2! July 2008!