I want change!

Good day, dudes and dudettes wherever part of the world you maybe. Let me hear you say,

"wooohh ohhhh!"
"wooohh ohhhh!"
"wooohh ohhhh!"

Okay, that's some kinda breathing and sanity exercise first and foremost. Surprisingly, I'm still alive. Maybe not the living I wanted (right now) but the life I must live. Eventhough nobody dares to ask where have I been and what I'm up to, I'd say it anyway. I've gone through a major self-know-how-and-what focusing on my hectic 12-hour work schedule, church services, and self well-being.

To make the story short, I'm just tired of my usual news-oriented slash music slash entertainment slash random post just to say I have a post thingy thing. As the Chowking commercial says, "I want change".



I wanted to change this self from nobody to somebody out of everybody. This may sound silly but I mean it. I literally look at myself in the mirror and assess what I am seeing. A 25-year old fatty who looked average, baggy shorts and shirt, and a messy updo hairstyle. Spell pathetic? Capital M and capital E! Put them together? Me.

I remember a painful experience to a must-be a happy day. It was the holiday season. My brother who works for a motor company treat me and my family some tickets to Enchanted Kingdom. There is a ride named "Swan Lake" that has a concept of boating in it. Only, a swan-looking boat is being used. I am super excited to be with my younger sister as I picture the incoming scenario. We pedal from the starting to the end point sweating. Just like any other pairs who keeps on reiterating their excitement with their loved ones. The tenant whisper in my ear,

"Ma'am, I'm sorry I guess we cannot continue this because of overloading"
I felt the redness of my face and the coldness of my hands as a quietly jump off the boat.

"Wala ka pala eh, overweight ka pala, haha!" A man's voice proudly says. As I turn his way, I saw my dad. I
hold my breath. I hold back my tears. This supposedly be a happy day I won't easily get offended. C'mon, what is this compared to discriminating stares you get from PUVs whenever a small ass won't fit an inch or two of the seat? What is this compared to the pain you felt because you don't get to date your crush on the prom because he chose someone who's fit and could turn heads? And what is this compared to the feeling you felt whenever employers turned you down not because of your outstanding credentials but as you believe, on how you look?


THIS IS NOTHING. Mom's been comforting me.

I stared at the image in the mirror the second time around. 25 years is long enough. Don't let it be 26. And so, my quest for wellness begins. Let's see how far am I going to from here.