The One with the Fairytales

Something I wrote in November 13, 2008. Edited and annotated for everyone's sake. 

I will never let my children read fairy tales - ever! Especially when I have a daughter...

We all love tiaras but it ain't worth it. 

See, one of the things that fairy tales taught me was to hope for a prince in his shining silver armor, in his white horse to come and rescue me from everything that I am in. It seems that every woman in my age group still has that notion that someday, their princes will come. 

Somehow, it's not good for the female psyche. It sucks that while most women have the ability to run Fortune 500 companies, or have the ability to perform as a hyphenate, they still have the notion that marriage is the finality of the race - IE: the finish line.

I saw my Tita the other day, and she stayed over for breakfast (french toast, wieners and fruit, thank you very much...), she asked me about my "marriage plans". I said I have a boyfriend and that we're very happy to which she prodded, "What, ayaw niya matali sa yo?" (Literal translation: "What, he doesn't want to be tied to you?")

The problem with "well-meaning relatives" is that they have the ability to make you feel less deserving than when you first started dating. When I was 24, I was being asked for a boyfriend. Now that I am 27, I am being asked for a husband. It's like no one wants to talk about how I single-handedly organized the training department of a young company and how I made sure that the training evaluation program was set in place. No one wants to talk about how I got off a car accident alive last year. No one wants to talk about how smooth my skin is thanks to the new Clean and Clear Refreshing Wash I use which is a steal at only Php 119.00. Everyone - well-meaning relatives or not, want to talk about how important marriage is, like I'll never get my happily ever after if I don't get married soon.

**meg**: I'm now almost 30, and I'm still asked the same damned question. Imagine that! Saying we broke up and that I got dumped never gets them to back off... 

I smiled halfway through my delicious french toast (made with skimmed milk - thanks to how anal I am when it comes to cooking healthier food for my folks), and sat there - perplexed. I gave her the envelope she needed and proceeded to the dirty kitchen to smoke one good stick of cigarette.

While Cinderella might have been a non-smoker, the tar and coal and everything in that fireplace might have given her enough high for the days when she had to clean the fireplace. I thought about what my aunt said. And thought about why my boyfriend doesn't want to marry me. It's just not time yet. I totally get that. It sucks because I see the logic in this whole waiting game. I just don't understand why sometimes, I'm gripped with fear that he will march off and leave.

Yes, no one actually did this for me. 

Somehow, I get the idea. I understand that I'm not Rapunzel with the long hair, I'm not Snow White with the seven dwarves. I'm no Cinderella either. I'm just not a princess, and I'm not looking for a prince. I'm just a simple woman, who wants a simple man. But indeed, life is complicated. There's no happily ever after. There's work to be done after a relatonship comes alive - and you really have to do everything to make it happen.

**meg**: Yes, well, everything in its own time. 


Note: No photographers were harmed intellectually during the making of this post. Pictures that were not taken by **meg** were obtained legally from Stock Xchng. 

Candy is a blog author herself. Read riveting revelations about Candy on her blog. 

The One with the Sexy Back

Something I want to share with everyone. A post from a long time ago. This was on my Multiply page, composed on November 21, 2007.

My Disclaimer: Have you read a Jessica Zafra essay? Well, this is one of them. Self-mockery, to my belief, is the best form of flattery. To people who are faint-hearted, easily insulted and lack the sense of humor I need for my audience may very well just stop reading from this period on. Thanks!


I can't sleep. I've been up since 4 in the morning, trying to get some shut-eye. I can't believe that I'm still not asleep... So I'm cuddling with my laptop, wondering what the heck to write about when I chanced upon a sexy picture of Rose Byrne and Brad Pitt from the movie Troy.

From livingco.tv.uk. Brad Pitt and Rose Byrne in the movie "Troy".
Damn he's hot. 

I just sort of realized that the media is full of sexy images. And a girl needs to do everything to sort of catch up. I guess this is the reason why Anne Hathaway had to take her clothes off, or why we make such icons out of Pamela Anderson and Paris Hilton, both of which had their own homemade videos to sell online.

So, if we look up to these icons, and men worship them, how's a normal everyday 20-something clod to compare? I mean, I am definitely no Paris Hilton, nor am I near Pamela Anderson. I am most definitely not a Selma Blair, a Sienna Miller or Mandy Moore. I am an Alex Borstein in a world of Drew Barrymores and Demi Moores. Am I making any sense? I guess what I'm saying is I'm a fat, bloated woman in a world of women who took the 60-day fab-abs challenge and won! Makes you want to rethink fitting into a nice dress for work tonight eh?

The thing is, I never really see myself as someone who should be worried about the way she looks. I am perfectly happy with the way I look. I am surrounded by beautiful, smart and darn right sexy women who sort of experience the same insecurity as I do. Some think that their tummy is bigger than their boobs, some think that their boobs are too small, some think that their thighs are as huge as Meralco posts. Honestly, the list goes on and on and on and on and on... and women tend to be as petty as possible. I remember a friend actually telling me that she'll sell her soul to have abs like one of the models we worked with on a photo shoot. I was an apprentice stylist then, and when I was indeed dressing Miss Patches (people who actually style other people, I think you know what I mean...), she bluntly told me "Pangit ng skin ko noh?! Buti pa yung skin mo, ang puti-puti..." <read: her skin is worse than mine, my skin is whiter.... In the Philippines, whiter skin is more favored, I guess?>

So what am I about to say... Yeah, somehow, for some oddball reason, when you look at someone else, there's always something of them you wish you had. I want to have Rose Byrne's face. I want to have Demi Moore's figure. I want to have Mandy Moore's eyes. I want to have Hayden Panettiere's skin. I want to be as cool as Avril Lavigne. And of course, when all else fails, I want to have Pamela Anderson's body. So, what am I doing to achieve any of these things? Nothing.

I think there's just an endless plethora of things to work on as a person. I can have my teeth whitened and have a tummy tuck... I can probably go for an overhaul. But you  know what, no... I believe that in some weird forsaken tribes in the Amazon, women like me, bring the sexy back to the tribe and I rule... :)

I'm absolutely bringing sexy back... Hahaha!