the virgin chronicles

(excuse me for the following:typographical, grammatical, punctuation error and perhaps some problems in spelling)

Chapter I

Let’s talk about firsts. After all that’s what virginity is all about. Or at least that’s what I think of it. Have you ever been dubbed as a Virgin? The word is usually used as a stereotyped to people who are ignorant, seemingly uncompromised or vulnerable. For instance, when you’re a non-smoker-non-conformist then suddenly you bum your first light. Do people look at you and say “first time, mo?” Have you felt like what Madonna did? Like a virgin, touched for the very first time?

Initiation. You know what I hate most about “first times”? It’s when you have your first taste of alcohol in a family gathering or your friend’s birthday bash. People who are veterans at this think of you as a twit (not all of them, though) and often times unconsciously try to get you drunk. Shitty isn’t it?

I guess “first times” really hurt. It makes you vulnerable. That’s what makes it scary. Your comfort zone has been invaded. You feel naked and you begin to sweat. You’re afraid of what to say or do, awkward to face the situation, aloof and clumsy. Or even worst..you’ve become a klutz—an accident prone twit. Exaggerated but I think most people had had similar experiences or even worst. If not, then maybe these are some of the examples of my defense mechanisms and this whole article is a big projection of the kind of person that I really am.

O well, enough psychobabble. Come to think of it, there’s no such thing as virginity anyway. I mean from the moment we were born we were initiated. Here are some:

first cry
first slap in the booty
first aid (if you were born pre-mature or the doctor was just to clumsy to cut you umbilical cord)
first time you saw you mom or parents and/or siblings and lastly your
first look at the cruel and hostile world you are about to live in.

I think number five is a bit psychotic and applies to the author alone. But anyways, wonderful isn’t it? We were never born virgins. Later in life we will come to realize we’d get exposed to so many “firsts” and it’s life’s way of initiating us into reality. Our hymens have just been breached over and over again [I mean figuratively speaking and this does not apply to women alone] because that’s life. We have to live and learn through our firsts.

I would like to share my first times, my initiations I put in paper because writing is actually a means of catharsis for me. It is an outlet for life’s drudgery—the joys and pains of living. You may find it hilariously stupid or fantastically well-written, animated or simply too darn silly.

Here are some of my firsts and some not-so-mundane memoirs that I think may have a crucial impact to your life.

Chapter II

Humor. The one thing I am not naturally endowed of. I can’t tell a decent joke without rehearsing it in my mind. I am not natural comedian, which is quite ironic for my name as well as my preference for people. I like those who can crack a joke and I’ll like you even more if you can make my panties fall out of laughing. Sarcasm is good too.

I wanted to be a stand-up comedian. I have this fantasy of becoming one and so I decided to make a debut. During one of our family reunion’s held usually at Christmas, we had a little fun which turn out to be one of the most embarrassing firsts in my life.

My aunt asked his nephews and nieces to impersonate our grandfather who’s in the age of senility [cruel isn’t it]. But at that point I thought I’d give it a shot. It may be a starting point to my stand up comic career. I immediately fell in line as my other younger cousins step up and followed me. I wasn’t the one to go first though. My two cousins came up with a skit along with my punch line. I was about to chicken out when finally my name was called. So there I was frozen in time, thinking of what I could come up with knowing that my song was already played. O joy! I am screwed but I am no quitter. The show must go on. To cut the story short, the punch line they’ve all been waiting for never came. I was the joker with the missing joke. What a joke indeed! My career was finished even before it started.

But I am not as bad as you think I am. I had my hits and misses. My friends think that I have a sick sense of humor. Sometimes I can be the life of the party and other times—it can be death. I admire stand up comics. Really!?! I mean making people laugh much less crack a smile is no chicken soup. In your debut, if you get a hand or two, your lucky. If your get nothing, it can only mean two things: it’s either your audience is deaf or you must have suck pretty bad. So that’s another thing I can never be…a natural comic among all other things.

~o0o~

See, first times can be crucial. It really has an effect on one’s self-esteem. You need to put heart into it. Like dieting. Way back in high school I remember that there was a certain point that I’ve made up my mind. I AM GOING ON A DIET or maybe a hunger strike. And it’s because of the most superficial reason. PROM. Pathetic isn’t it. But hey, a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do. It was five months away. I wanted to look good of course, perhaps stunning. But good was enough. So I enrolled myself to an after-six bootcamp. O yeah. This one’s good because it’s a success story. I lost in my estimation 5-10 pounds. Normally, I am overweight for my age and height. But during my fourth year in high school I was semi-trimmed. At least for the last 5 months in high school which is a bit too late to flaunt.

I could not believed my eyes when I fit my prom dress. It was perfect. The night will be perfect after all if not for my not-so perfect partner. He’s one of those guys you hire to be your partner. Long story short, he was the cousin of my friend whose purpose is to be my ticket to prom no more no less. If my memory serves me right, we met two days before the prom. It’s almost like a one-night stand but except for the fact that it was not. The prom was held in an open space at the back of the College buildings where our graduation was also held. Except for the little rain shower, which by the way soaked our food, it was ok. The night was romantic for some because they have their significant others. But for me it was like a costume party. You play dress up with a phony partner, introduce him to the teachers like your selling some phony product and by midnight go home and pretend like it was just one of your nightmares. Yeah, it wasn’t that bad. I just sacrificed eating a lot of junk food and chocolates after six p.m. for that pesky prom which turn out to be such a superficial experience. Yeah, I learned something too. It made me cynical which is good enough rather than moping over the social suicide I just committed. It’s just that I can’t believe I was so motivated by it. It’s not like I am going to win a price by loosing a pound or two.

But it was a success story [for a while] because at some point I have proven myself wrong. I went on a diet and it worked. Given proper motivation, it might work again. But for a while, it made me realize one more thing. Dieting improved my appetite. So screw the vegetables. Give me those doughnuts.

CHAPTER III

Remember the first time you cursed. When was that? 3rd year h/s? 1st year? 6th grade? 1st grade? Kinder? What did you say? The P word or the F word?

Me. I said the very first curse when I was in the 5th grade. I used the S word. I had a lot of firsts in the 5th grade including my first usage of the sanitary napkin but let’s save that for another chapter. Anyways, I cannot remember the exact situation that made me blurt it out in the open. Elementary was a few eras back and my long-term memory is failing me right now.

The S word. That was the in-curse in my time and in my school. It was so popular that you’d hear it as often as you hear yuck and eew. When you dropped you pen—S***, when you forgot you assignment—S***, when your teacher suddenly announces that she will be give a quiz—S***, when you tripped—S***, when you saw your crush—S*** and all other day-to-day experiences that make you say the S word at the beginning and at the end of your sentence.

I am amazed by the way people curse—how and when they say it. Some shout, others mumble and the few do it in silence. The latter is the most cunning and deadly—to curse you in silence. There’s so many to choose from. You can say it in different languages if you know how. I don’t like using the P.I. I prefer the shorter version [T.I.]. I abhor the one-word “P” because it is associated with the capital B that has a more vulgar and sexual connation. But of course the F word is on top of the list, which is widely used by coños and coñotic-wannabes in my school.

The big B word was popularized by the hip-hop genre in music. I mean obviously who would not notice that in every rap song ever written in this planet, the curses are hard to miss. Curses have also their rap or slang version in a growing number of linggos being developed by God knows-who. The B word is now often dubbed as B-I-a-t-c-h!

I am fascinated by how they evolve. Like the m@+/%*F$#@r curse is now just used as “mudda”. By the way it also has its christianized version—MOTHERFATHER!. B***S*** was simplified into B.S. and the f word can also be f.u. There are a lot more of these evolutions but you might have known it by now.

So much obscenity everywhere in the bus seats, arm rests, toilet cubicles, walls, etc. O well, I guess that’s how people let the world know how life is bitching them [there I said it] and screw you motherfather because I don’t give a rat’s a$$ if you’re reading this or not.

~o0o~

The F word not just stands for first time but also for failure. I hate failing. But this is one among other things that I have yet perfected (which is quite normal if you’re me). I AM NOT PERFECT although I wanted to. But failing in academics is not that impressive. Yup, specially if it’s written in CAPS and RED ink.

Well, it’s not a total failure. I was an A student [A– meaning average] way back in the elementary years but I can distinctly recall the first time I got a not-so average grade.

Math. 78. These words aren’t pretty if you place them side-by-side. Second quarter, fourth grade. My first line of 7 grade. I was used to seeing 88s or 85s rarely a 91 or 92 but a 78?! You have got to be kidding me. I dislike numbers. Dislike is actually an understatement. My interest to math can be compared to my interest to General Zoology, Mechanical Engineering, Microbiology, Quantum Physics, Evolutionary Biology, Human Kinetics and Rhythmic Gymnastics. I was simply dumb at these things.

But the thing is math is everywhere. We cannot escape it. So I’m probably doomed for the next 20 or 30 years. I refuse to recall much of the “firsts” I had in math. They’re simply too numerous to count and embarrassing too. In fact there are infinite bloopers brewing in my memory, which I continually repress for it will totally give me a nervous breakdown.

However, for your reading pleasure, I will just disclose one. Fifth grade. Like I said I had so many firsts during this time of my mediocre life. Math period. I was barely breathing at those times. Who can? Our teacher was a terrifying old maid. Subject matter—DIVISION. As a child, I think I was pretty selfish because later I came to noticed that I was really poor in division. I just don’t get it specially with fractions and those pie charts?! They are not even edible.

So anyway, going back to the horrific math experience. That particular day was one of the shittiest days I had in school. It was my first time to be humiliated while doing a board work. I was sitting in the third row and it was our turn ton answer some math exercises. And perhaps pray for deliverance. Some survived because they were prepared or lucky and some are just darn stupid or incredibly nervous. I was the latter. It was my turn. Apparently I was the last. The teacher asked me to write the problem and then afterwards solve it. I was having one of those mental block outs. The only thing that retained in my memory is that I was being obliterated for incorrectly writing the number 4. I guess my prep teacher was sweet enough not to teach me the proper way of writing the number four. That’s when I realize that I can never understand math teachers or their subject matter. Most of them have hormone problems. They were either old maid, pregnant (at that time) or simply gay.

CHAPTER IV

HOPE. My section when I was in the 1st and 3rd year of high school. I hated being part of that batch only because I got separated from my friends. See I wasn’t that lucky. 7 HOPE. First year. I had the good old sixth grade blues. Way back, I had a blast and most importantly it was the first time I had form strong alliances with other classmates. In short, I had my own posse. I was part of some peer group and not just one of those loner-types that later on may become a serial killer. There were five of us. We even had a name. TUFACS stood for each of the first letters in our nicknames. We were not some hip-hop wannabes. We were just a bunch of sixth grades trying to make a mark in classroom history. We weren’t the populars, the nerds or the jocks. But somehow we made a dent in our class. But even before we outshine the other peer groups existing in our superficial chalk dust-infested room, we were disbanded.

FIRST year–my first experience of hell. But as DARWIN pointed out in his theory, species learn to adapt. That was BS.I was poor in adaptation. But not to fret, we were not completely extinct. I still have my best friend in the same prison that I was in. Unfortunately, she turned out to be my second worse enemy. Second because I am my own worse enemy. So what’s the story behind our disconnection? Well, I opted not to disclose such boring and immature incidents of my high school life. I fear it would only lull you to sleep or temporarily cut off your circulation.

To sum it up, first year was not that fresh and inviting but I had fun. Most of the time it was FUN with a capital P. Period.

Moving on. Another school year of being a HOPE student came upon me during my 3rd year. Being a junior, I experienced a period of delinquency—not juvenile but just a minor attitude problem. I wanted to revolt against the world. I wanted to shout “I’m going to be a senior next year and soon enough COLLEGE. LIFE SUCKS!!!!” Or better yet, “ I hate my cheating seatmates, my boring home economics teacher, my bully front-row classmates, the bitchy trio sitting in the left wing and my moody menopausal moderator!!!!”

FYI, my M3 (moody, menopausal moderator) quitted on us by second quarter. Her replacement was a piano-playing-soprano-music teacher who is also M3 (monotonous moody moderator). I guess 9 HOPE was hopeless at that time. BTW, we weren’t really sure why our FIRST M3 left us but she still remained as our strict Filipino teacher. I guess she must have really hated babysitting.

One thing I won’t regret being a nine-hope student. I was able to establish an anarchist party. The down side was that there were only two who signed up. O well, three is a crowd. That’s better than bitching all by yourself beside a cockroach-filled broom box. As weird as it was, my newfound friends (besides my best friends in the other section [not the TUFACS]), they weren’t that bad at all. In fact they were wonderful. They were both good at something I suck best—MATH. The catch is that the first was GEEKY slash THESPIAN slash HOME ECO CLUB PRESIDENT (who often finds time to self pity amidst our busy schedules) and the other was SPORTY (who happens to be a part of the volleyball varsity, mistaken to be a tomboy but actually loves cross-stitching and was a Tigger-holic).

Yup, we weren’t that bad. We were oblivious to some but others recognized us for our melodramatic existence and apathetic behavior in class. We were also dubbed, as the “charmed ones” since there were three of us. Charming indeed. I took it as an insult though. But I could care less. I enjoyed being with those two. They weren’t all that geeky or sporty. My friendship with them [although short-lived but nevertheless not broken] made my existence in that section a saner and less depressing experience. Kudos to you, Karra and Marisol. May the force always be with you.

CHAPTER V – my ge2-generation

High school was not all bitching and whining. I mean I also had a real blast with real people who were real friends who until now are the best people I’ve met.

Let me introduce you to the people who may have typified the word COOL [in my own perspective as well as for the more intellectually-gifted beings], made my high school experience the ULTIMATE REAL LIFE journey or just simply caught my attention.

Let me start with my seatmates in 4th year. They were also my classmates in the second year.

The one sitting at my left side is YUMI. Yumi is the typical student but typical will be an understatement description of her personality as an individual. As a student, she is like most conscientious, studious, diligent ones who often becomes a teacher’s pet but never to take it as an advantage. It is just the way that she is. Everyday, she comes to class prepared willing to help the unfortunate ones like me (who sometimes forgot her assignment in economics or deliberately left her math homework). By the way, she’s also a math whiz, which makes her a more dependable seatmate [if you know what I mean]. Hehehe. She’s one of those friends who are kind enough to lend you a pen when you lost yours or shares her lunch when yours wasn’t enough. Basically, she’s really generous and never was there a chance that I saw her rant or rave about parasitic people who take advantage of her kindness. She was always willing to help. And for that I love her. But one thing that you must beware of Yumi is her unusual habit. She bites people; especially those chunky and chubby ones like me. I don’t know if she just finds me cute but she does bite hard. Nevertheless, I still like her even though sometimes I wish was numb.

I learned a lot from Yumi. One is the value of generosity and the other is to bring a life vest [or any padded vest] in class because you might not see it coming but sharks may attack. I knew this because there were teeth marks in my left shoulder by the end of the term. The girl sitting next to Yumi is one of my best friends as well.

PRINCESS. What can I say about her? She’s got everything– a huge brain, graceful body [who kicks major ass in the dance floor] plus a well-functioning metabolism [never gained a pound all through high school and is actually underweight] and a kind heart. Except for the fact that she’s flat-chested [well, a little comes a long way, anyway] and angsty, she’s really a true friend. She’s the type who would stick it up to you in a sticky situation although while doing so she would continue to rant about it. She also has this picky-hard-to-please attitude, which is normal if you’re Queen Elizabeth. But well, she’s also royalty. She’s a princess isn’t she? Hehe. She’s choosy when it comes to a man that’s why she’s still single. We’re both single. The difference is that I’m not waiting for a tall, dark and handsome [yet witty and humorous] prince charming in shining red Ferrari. No she’s not that superficial. She not superficial at all. All she wants is the perfect man like everyone else. Nevertheless, princess and I bond well. We shared a lot of laughs together, a few tears and many more. But you know what I really learned from Princess? PATIENCE is a virtue. More often than not, she comes late whenever we have a gimmick all because of one reason—she loves long baths. Actually it takes her one and a half hours [in rough estimation] to wash her hair. Can you believe that? But despite all these I still consider her truest of the true when it comes to our friendship.

Let’s move farther to the left where KATE sat. The child prodigy, promil-user slash class valedictorian. There are so many things that make us different but she still ended up in my friends list. She’s also a math whiz unlike me. Actually she’s pretty darn good in every subject. I was average in all but I was dumbest in math. She draws well. I could only manage to scribble stick people. We’re both of an art buff—paintings, sketching and stuff but her works are more artistic and perceptible. Mine were simply hard to tell. Is that a hat or a boa constrictor that ate an elephant? She eats healthy too. Her snacks usually contain a fiber-rich biscuits and low-fat fresh milk. Mine were junk food and heart-attack inducing beverages. But despite our differences, we bond. Why? Because we’re both moody. Who says likes repel?

At the back row, one will most probably notice two peculiar people. The dynamic duo, Hitler-loving, rock music fanatics, the real anarchists—KAT and ANA. We weren’t close but I had a chance to hang out with them one or twice and they weren’t all that bad. They usually think that they were being discriminated for their unconventional taste for music, political grudges and atypical-non-conformist’s sense of fashion but actually they are pretty COOL people for me. We both hail rock as our religion. And there was one time Kat gave the whole class Valentines card. Wasn’t that sweet?

To Kat’s left, next to an empty seat, is were BILLIE sat. Way back in high school, she was really sweet and nice. But wait until she made it to college. Let’s save that part of the story to another time shall we? Basically, Billie was a good student and as a friend—well, she’s ok. We did not have a buddy moment but she’s really nice. I never recalled a time when she badmouthed me. In high school, she was sweet Billie Joy, the ideal daughter, loving sister and supportive friend.

Sitting next to her is my bestest friend. ARIANE. The “A” usually stands for appeal. She’s one tall glass of pink lemonade. Some says she’s a superficial bitch but for me she’s a real-life Barbie doll except that she has brains. Most of the time she’s the life of the party and the class act. There’s never a dull moment when she’s around. But one thing I have to say is that once she starts talking it will never stop. It goes on and on and on and on. Remember the energizer bunny? That’s her. No one can stop her not even the teachers. However, what annoys me is that she can get into your nerves sometimes with her bugging and nagging. Like when you’re pretending to pay attention to the teacher, you will suddenly feel her index finger in your face. It’s when you finally notice you have a booger stuck in your cheeks. And that’s when your patience finally runs out and all you want to do is yell and scream “EEEEEEwWWWW!!!!!” She just never runs out of wacky ideas. But that’s what I admire about her. She shows everyone who she really is unlike some people I know. Anyhow, Ariane not only typifies a true fashionista with her originality but she also helps the fashion victims by giving them makeovers. See! What would be our class without her?

To Ariane’s right is FAYE. Faye, Faye, Faye. I’ve known her since 1st grade but I’ve known little about her. Ironic? Well, she wasn’t that much of a chitchatter but she knows a lot—mostly other people’s secrets. She’s our number one insider. I don’t know if she’s some spy or secret agent but she’s really good at what she does—keeping secrets. What I admire about Faye is her frugality. She won’t give you a cent unless you’re dying of a malignant disease or something but when she does, she gives her all. Another thing is that she can cook—edible and palatable food. She’s into those home eco stuff I dread like cross-stitching, baking and the like which makes her a good girlfriend. And like Kate she’s also a painter slash pianist. Two of the things I suck at again. In high school, Faye was on of those so-so students like me, we were pretty average. I know she could have done more. I don’t know why she didn’t. Maybe she’s really a secret agent. You know, keeping it in the down-low. I guess that’s what I liked about her. Even though, you hardly ever tell if she’s really into you she still makes it feel that when you need her she’s just one phone call away.

To her right is MOTHERGOOSE. Sheryl, The longganisa-loving lass who often times poses as our mother. I don’t know why but her aura is just so..motherly. She has good counseling skills too. Although she’s into serious stuff [studies, family issues, politics in and out of the class] wait until you hear her laughter. It’s like satanic and almost diabolical. I wish I could do that. Among all other things she does best is also to brood over her self-agonizing experiences. It’s really tough. But as we always say: LAUGHTER IS THE BEST MEDICINE. That’s what I learned from her. Don’t let the day pass without laughing. Who can’t? When she’s around you’re belly will ache and you’d almost wish to die.

At the farther side of the jungle, sitting near the window is my good-old-buddy CARLA. I got close to her when she used to sit in front of me during the 1st quarter but since our adviser made some sort of a sitting arrangement for the whole class, She was thrown in the back row. I shared a lot of common interests with this girl. First is theater. In school she is an active member of theater arts known as the CAC or the Communication Arts Club. I only got involved in a play when our brother school included us in the casting of West Side Story. I probably got in because of my dad who was part of the production while Carla did really well in her audition. She was really talented. She can act, sing and dance a bit. We had tons of fun during rehearsals and bonded really well after the play was over. Second is we’re the only child of our parents. This factor may really be the reason why we’re somewhat alike. We’re both moody yet bubbly at times, we had a lot of silly jokes and corny antics up our sleeves and well we’re just too nutty. We’re just both weird sometimes and that’s why I enjoy her company. And like what we’ve always say: “Weird things happen to weird people and you’re one of them!” so, if it doesn’t sound odd to you then you’re definitely not one of us.

Fourth year was the best year in high school. Not only people look up to you [probably out of your seniority] but also this is the time when you experience the ULTIMATE high in HIGH school. It was the time when you felt like you really belong and you want to say “This is my turf!”.

Hold on one moment! There were also other people, although they were not my classmates in 4th year contributed to the wellness and coolness of our indestructible ensemble. The following people were the other groupies [who were not my classmates in 4th year]:

JANICE,MIMAY AND DANIX. The fantastic trio of giggles, laughter and most importantly they uphold a wholesome image. I mean they’re simply too nice and good. I guess, Yumi’s got a great influence on the three. Nice and good are not the only attributes they have. Like all of us, they were conscientious students. Their consciences have a great pull on their character too. They were honest. I never heard of them got caught cheating or much less thought about the deed. But maybe they’re just too good to get caught. HehE. I’ve learned something being with them. Laugh more, talk less. You’ll surely go places. No doubt about it. But maybe talk less and the wholesome image is not applicable to Danica because like Ariane she’s also a daring chitchatter.

KAREN a.k.a KIKA was my classmate in second year. She’s also the friend of my friends especially of Yumi’s. What can I say about her? Well, she popularized the line “pick your choice” as the ultimate tag line of her strong personality. Among all other things that are common with my friends are huge brains. She’s also an achiever. That’s probably why she can be intimidating at times. And when she does, just relax okay? She doesn’t bite unlike Yumi. She just say it to your face. Evil? No, Kika kills major snotty-butts and I want to learn that shoot- to-kill attitude. Damn!

EMERALD. How can forget? Originally, she was part of Ariane’s group when we were in the first year. However, we got close when I met her in one of those hang-outs we had. She’s the vagabond and the rebel [but with a cause]. Unlike most of us, she smokes, drinks, lies, cheats during quizzes and exams, often gets absent and cut classes. She’s truly a gem [grins]. But despite those ugly things she has done, she had proven to be one tough cookie. One of the things I learned from her is that: “It pays to be a criminal”. [Laughs]. I mean for all the dirty deed and the not-so good stuff she has been into, she learned a lot from them which made her the way she is now—I don’t even know where she is now. But I’m sure she will make it—if not a drug lord perhaps a pimp. No, kidding aside, I don’t blame her for her carpe diem disposition. Life wasn’t all about getting wasted. She was also a responsible sister to her siblings because; she’s all they got. Actually her life story would make it big in those real-life drama series. Anyways, I had lots of fun too with this gal because of her independent attitude, carefree and somewhat manic episodes, her vulgar behavior and most significantly– her green jokes.

Who else? Umm. NINA. If my memory serves me right, she was my classmate in the 5th and 6th grade. Nina also has this in-your-face persona but deep inside she’s really nice. Cynical at times but well that’s Nina. In high school, I don’t remember hanging out with her anymore simply because we’re both too busy and we were not classmates. See! Making it to the same list and classroom make a whole lot of difference. Damn the registrar! But lately, during college [although we went to different schools] we just happen to reconnect. Thanks to the power of e-mail and text messaging. Sweet Nina. I miss her. She happened to give me a name too. When we were in the 5th grade she called me CUTESIE from my nickname UTCHEE and the word CUTE. Isn’t she a genius? Speaking of which, she too has a huge brain but along with that is a huge heart like the Leos that we both are. She also made a mark and inspired me to do this article. She once told me that VIRGINITY HAS AN EXPIRATION DATE. Yup, so before my short term memory runs out I better follow her advice.

Significant others? Who needs them when I already have these beautiful and awesome people? They made my elementary and high school life complete. Period.

CHAPTER VI

FIRST PERIOD. I am not referring to the first subject you have in class. I mean the very first time you used a sanitary napkin and realize you can’t escape the evil wrath of the jeepers creepers who will visit you monthly. Yeah, the havoc it brings makes you want to hide in your closet. But hell, no I’m no closet queen. Facing your firsts is one of life’s challenges and I am a walking disaster when comes to this. You know it’s really odd when all of a sudden you feel less like yourself. You start wondering what this epiphany could do to your social life. Then you think again. It might not be as bad as you think. But you were wrong. Apocalypse is yet to come. The very first consequence is a grueling trip to the mall with your mother. After announcing to the whole universe that her daughter has now entered into a new phase of life called PUBERTY, she now drags you to a department store to fit your very first brassiere. Off with those “sandos’” and baby bras, you will now start wondering what the hell is 32A or 36C? Alas! Gradually you will be promoted from negative cup A to 36A and if your really unlucky 38A.

Be on guard because you’re hormones are now fully activated and ready to rumble. You’re one month away from popping zits to having extreme mood swings. You will also start liking how the opposite species look like. But if you not a late bloomer you might already dreamed of having kids and paying the house rent. When I started growing two hills in my valley I made fun of the other kids who have mountains instead. I tried slouching to hide them but it didn’t work. Eventually I got used to it. Now I regretted why I did it because they weren’t that perky as they once were. O well, everyday is a learning experience and part of the lessons I have learned from PUBERTY 101 is the calendar method. My mom is one clever woman and so she taught me about the whole cycle thing. Starting from the very first visit, I should place a mark in the calendar the number of days that the jeepers creepers stayed. And after those days I can now predict when it will return. I thought I was poor in calculation because I never predicted the right date of its arrival. It was only when I reached my fourth year in high school that I have known of its regularity and irregularity. Like I said, I am a late bloomer. Now I am an expert with the method. I have a short cycle. Instead of the regular 28 days of ovulation, I am 7 days short. Enough! I may already sound like your HEALTH teacher.

But what bugs me about periods are the premenstrual craps. I refuse to use its medical term. I can’t it spell right now. The feeling is so horrible and indescribable you would wish you were a man instead. For me the pain lasts for two days. Two days of whining and bitching and you get to experience it every month! Horrific! And let’s not forget the hair. The hair is almost everywhere: in your armpits, in between your crotch, sometimes in your legs others grow a mustache! What are we evolving into? I guess I have to stop from there. The biological changes can be awesome for some and terrible for me. But every girl has to pass that initiation. For men it’s just about getting a new haircut, a deodorant and going under the knife. Big deal!

What about the emotional evolution? Come to think of it, there was a time in my life when I was ultra-cheesy and ever so bubbly just because I saw my crush across the street. You feel all the warm and fussy stuff and other peculiar emotions you haven’t felt before. Too bad, it stopped right after I found out he has a girlfriend and he’s four years my senior. There’s a crap-load of experiences I had right after puberty that I have forgotten. It must be the hormones. But one thing I can assure you. I haven’t fell hard enough to knock me right off my feet. Maybe a few infatuations and silly daydreaming did some damage. O hell, when that time comes. I’ll wear armor. Who knows what cupid’s arrow might do to my cholesterol-clogged aorta.

College. It was still the same. I was overweight and single. Not to fret though, I still have my brain so my existence is not pathetic enough. I was not in the mood to despair about being SINGLE. I have tons of work to do to keep me preoccupied plus I have a huge responsibility as a daughter too. Actually I have no plans of getting into some relationship though I am very much open to date. Well, my friends were my usual dates especially during Valentine’s Day. I am often the third wheel, which is not really a problem for me.

To lessen the mediocrity, let’s refer to it as chaperone. I get to hangout with my friend Ariane and his Raph, which is better than drowning your sorrows by means of alcohol and despairing about your single blessedness. After class we usually grab a bite which is the primary reason why I have no ethical control over my huge appetite. We watch movies or perhaps drive around the city or just simply talk. I never felt awkward but there was one time I wish I was invisible. We went to this gig. It was a foam party. There was dancing of course. Having no dance partner isn’t that pretty. Especially when you’re the only one in the dance floor, you’re like a shoe with a missing pair. Nevertheless, I still like my life somehow. Being single gives you a lot of freedom. However having a serious relationship provides you with all feelings of fussiness, royalty treatment and maybe a more mature emotional intelligence. One thing you have to learn is the value of sharing, active listening and all other words ending in “ing” which means learn to accept others even when he/she is a lying-two-faced-cheater.

The value of “setting your priorities straight” is also on the line here. I mean when you’re single you can choose to stay at home and watch your favorite t.v. series over let say, going to your dead grand uncle’s funeral wake. But when your committed you can’t choose WILL and GRACE over your boy/girlfriend’s birthday party because if you did then your one conceited person. You just have to weigh your opinions and if you really know how you’d make it as a wonderful partner. If you’re not, then you’d better hop into my ship because as I’ve said: “It’s better to travel alone than with a bad companion.”

Am I a bad companion? [thinks] You be the judge of that.

and until then..the virgin commits social suicide and plunge into the darkness that is called LIFE.She weave thoughts into words but until then..I gotta pee.. Check you later!

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s