Planning For A Planner

Slurp.

(Courtesy of geog.queensu.ca)

Yes, it is that time of the year: when people of a certain economic class (or want to be perceived as being a member of it) start ordering drinks from their favorite coffee house, all in pursuit of a daily planner.

Truth be told, I tried it once (and was actually successful in obtaining one using the drink-64-orders method), and my lame-ass excuse was because while I did not smoke, my work colleague who I was constantly with did and because we both love coffee and he had to smoke, we would hang out at Starbucks which would satisfy everyone, and get a free planner, to boot.

I really shouldn't be saying "free" because (1) not even water is free and (2) have you sat down and tried to compute what it would actually cost to get the "free" planner? (The miser in me never looked back once I did the math.)

A disclaimer, first: I am not an enemy of capitalism. I think this is a shining example of creating a need where none existed before, it taps into a human need, both for tradition and inclusion, and it is most certainly legal while earning big revenues for the coffee companies.

My biggest disclaimer has to do with economic status: if you can afford it, then by good golly, go right ahead. Do not apologize for your financial success or capability (though this shouldn't apply to those who just "inherited" their money), splurge on it, the same way I don't mind people placing odd sounding chemicals on their faces or getting "cut up" in an attempt to look younger. It's your life, your body.

But the stingy part of me always raises the alarm, especially for those who are "wannabes": do you need to pay thousands of pesos for a planner, and gaining truckloads of calories in the process? (Not to mention sleepless nights with that much caffeine running in your bloodstream)

I'm talking about the people who need to go to Starbucks and other similar coffee houses because it's cool to be seen in these places, as far as perception goes.

If the defense is "bakit? masama ba mangarap?" then the answer is an unequivocal "no". Everyone is trucking along hoping to get a better future, and if you've somehow managed to do so, tastes do change. But not if you're not there yet. I know someone personally who tries to keep up with her amigas by shelling out hundreds of pesos on a drink and some desserts but actually has a problem with the amortization of her home, and needing to utang just to get a ride home.

It's people like her that seem so easily lured into the "planner mentality": I have to get it to maintain my (illusory) social status.

It's been my observation (unscientific, but there it is) that we seem to be obsessed with appearances, and not substance. As long as the guests are well-fed, who cares if we blow out the monthly budget.

We have actors and singers who can't act nor sing, but because they have washboard abs that can grate cheese or breasts that would make watermelons blush, they get the contract.

No one should know that we are in debt, so we have to keep making extravagant renovations on our house, which can be taken away any time now.

There is a preoccupation with seeming, instead of being.

Of seeming well off, instead of being financially secure.

Of seeming glamorous, instead of being happy.

Of seeming to prefer aspiration, instead of being authentic.

There is, of course, that cultural value of hiya, or shame, one we share with our other Asian neighbors. The loss of face, the gossips that might result, the judgmental stares - something that social scientists have recorded and dissected. And while it can sometimes be useful as a pseudo-warning device for propriety, I can't help but wish that there more substantial, more meaningful things to be ashamed for, and of.

Besides, where a planner is from is nowhere as important as what's inside it.

So, maybe it would be a nice question to ask, once you get the snazzy looking date book:

What, now?

Hindi Bagay Ang Humble Sa Iyo

Mirror, mirror, on the wall...who's the fairest of them all?

Ever since I was told of the tale of Snow White, I've known that beauty - and maintaining it - has been one of the forces that drives humanity. It's not deep - I find it extremely shallow, truth be told, it's an insult to our intellect, and it drives me crazy that people clearly not qualified for jobs are promoted on that basis alone, but beauty lends itself to sexual attraction, and that is as primal an impulse as one can get.

This won't make the Facebook album.

(Courtesy of toycutter.com)

Besides, I would be lying if I said I have never been stunned by physical perfection in my entire life, and that is why I understand how some people use this to their advantage.

I get it.

What I don't get is the false humility angle.

What's that, you might ask?

It's when certain people know they're attractive - perfect skin, a body that can cause Pavlovian salivation, a face that would make angels weep - and they purposely say the opposite of what they are in describing themselves. (First off, if you have to describe your physical features publicly, then you've lost the humility test right then and there.)

When a girl has salon commercial worthy hair and goes "I hate my dull, lifeless, limp locks! Pangit kaya ng buhok ko!"

When a man who constantly undresses himself in the locker room owing to a perfect physique would loudly exclaim "I look only half as good as I did last year!"

Social media has just upped this phenomenon tremendously: You have people with albums in their accounts titled "Me, Myself and I", all filled with pictures of themselves in what you know would be visually their "best pose" - e.g. a shorter person would insist on shots from the ground. And if you make the mistake of ever complimenting them on how pretty or how fresh they look, you would hear a variation of the same response:

"Naku, haggard pa ako sa lagay na yan, hahaha!"

"Thanks, but that was just a candid moment, di naman yan posed."

"I was debating with myself nga if I was going to post this, thanks sa validation, ha."

And there's the best answer in this category: "Ang pangit ko dito kaya!"

Stop the false humility. Please lang.

Just go with it. You are shallow, you think your self worth is tied to your looks, you have low self esteem and that is why you need others to validate your beauty.

You have an entire album waiting for people's comments to prove it.

Just don't go to a place where you have to extol how hideous you are.

Whether your beauty is natural or something you had to work for (or pay for), celebrate it for what it's worth, but for the love of everything decent, don't play the self deprecating card.

I had a personal run-in with this phenomenon, almost 15 years ago. 

This woman, who can make Heidi Klum weep with her body, tried the very schtick that I have just described. She had just come back from the USA, and after she came from the gym, she went off to look for us (we were in a cafe). No one really blinked when she showed up in a bra top when she met us because (1) that's what she usually wore in the gym and (2) if I have to list people who "deserve" to be paraded in public for their perfect bodies like some slave trade, she would be in that list, no doubt.

Before we are can even say hi to her, she exclaims, "Ang taba taba ko na! Grabe!" (Now that I think of it, she was saying it a little too loudly for everyone in the cafe to hear.)

Silence as we process this false revelation.

Bitch A (for reference, almost all my friends are of this variety) then says, "Really? Eh, bakit ka lumalabas sa public na naka bra lang?"

She replies, "babalik pa naman ako sa gym, no, just saying hi!"

Bitch B then goes, "Aber, nasaan yang katabaan mo na sinasabi mo?"

She starts pinching her taut skin all over, vainly trying to find a skinfold to signify her "fatness". "Eto, oh, eto pa, to pa, to pa...siguro I gained 10 pounds sa pagpunta ko sa States!"

I give her a once-over - she refused to sit down at the cafe, she must really be hiding her obesity - and I said: "Oo nga, pero di lang 10 pounds, you gained more like 30 pounds."

Her bubbly smile all but vanished, and she shot back, "Sobra ka naman! Mga 2 pounds lang na-gain ko, over!"

That shut her false humility up.

So, the next time someone tries to pull the same thing on you, go right along to the extreme position: "Yes, you are so hideous that you're lucky you weren't put up for adoption!"

And just like that, we're all equals again.

Venus And Our Collective Neuroses

The fall of the fair-skinned? Not at this time.

(Courtesy of kumukutitap.com)

Watching the Venus Raj story in MMK (Maalaala Mo Kaya) highlighted a few things, some we already knew but never wanted to admit.

1. We are racists. In this country, white skin equals beautiful, dark skin means shame and ridicule.

2. We love the underdog. A large part of Manny Pacquiao's appeal is his rise from humble beginnings. The same can be said of Venus Raj's story. She was regularly made fun of for not being fair skinned, and went on to win Bb. Pilipinas.

3. It shouldn't be, but our self-esteem is largely tied to how we look. We should just hope that we are the "current flavor" for beauty pageants and advertisers.

4. Teachers have a free pass to be involved with students, the loophole being that these students have low self-esteem to begin with. (To be fair, Venus' mom was against the relationship from the start.)

5. Joining pageants to earn money to help the family gives it a sheen of nobility of purpose.

6. It's disturbing for a woman found laughable because of her dark skin to seek validation from an industry that promotes the unreal ideal of "perfect" body measurments and looks from its' participants. But then we decry corrupt politicians all the time and continue voting for them the following elections. So it's par for the course.

7. Mothers have the final say. Period.

8. I wish this country understood that being valued for your looks is not female empowerment, or feminism at work, it is the precise opposite of what the movement stands for. (I was just informed that there are only 1000 of us in a country of 100 million citizens who believe this.)

9. Venus' story is supposed to be the triumph of the dark-skinned over the fair. While her story was on break, I was regaled with ads for whitening creams.

10. The current career path of Venus as a host ensures that beauty pageants will always be filled with women wanting their share of the spotlight.

And so, here we are, circa 2012.

Riding on Bayo's Remains

That's how I see the recent ad of Belo.

In the vernacular, nakisakay.

(Courtesy of projectvanity.com)

What leads me to say that is, if there's anything that can describe "celebrity" doctor Vicky Belo, it's that she is media-savvy: she has cornered the entertainment market (being associated with local celebrities and even showing up in entertainment programs) and parlayed their star power into business success. 

It makes it, therefore, incredulous if she will claim not to have known about the recent brouhaha that clothing company Bayo has figured in with their "percentage" ads. Someone who has her ear to the ground where popular culture is concerned, who makes it a point to be in the spotlight as much as she can - both professionally and personally - will not be credible if she says she knows squat about the recent "racist" controversy by that ad campaign.

The only conclusion I have is that she is in fact building on and stoking the controversy wave produced by Bayo. The Belo Men ad doesn't even bother hiding its homage with the placement of a percentage figure in a prominent spot. As we say in our native language, nakikisakay. (Riding on the coattails) 

And somehow, basing on how Belo has projected herself, it makes perfect sense.

"World Peace" According To Miriam

As a country obsessed with beauty pageants, I have little doubt that most Filipinos know the stock answer of every beauty pageant contestant, should a "difficult" question come up during their Q and A portion, oftentimes the deal breaker, determining who gets to be coronated as the winner in the said contest.

"World Peace."

I have made my feelings patently clear about these sorts of pageants, in my previous posts - anyone who uses physical attributes to replace the concept of their own self worth must not have a very substantial emotional or mental life - and while the issue of "allowing" transgenders in the Miss Universe contest is all the "rage" these days, I paid nominal attention to it as beauty contests are as relevant to my life as Mikey Arroyo claiming to be the representative of tricycle drivers and security guards.

Getting home late last night, I come in to find Arthur watching Tonight with Arnold Clavio, and the show's topic: Transgenders and beauty pageants.

I internally started rolling my eyes, but then he said: "I don't like what she (Miss Universe 1st runner up Miriam Quiambao) is saying and how she's saying it. It reeks of condescension."

To those who argue that beauty contests are "substantial", I rest my case.

(Courtesy of codamon.com)

Which immediately laid my eye-rolling to rest: A fortunate receipient of the adulation of this country's obsession with physical appearances finds something to be condescending about?

The guests that night were Quiambao and STRAP (Society of Transsexual Women of the Philippines) Chairperson Naomi Fontanos.

As I am watching the show almost near its end, I really only have the segment I viewed to comment on, so the context will be based purely on that. (I am giving no weight to either participants' statements before the part I did catch.)

Fontanos talks about how she knows she was born with male organs, but that she has always felt a woman on the inside. And when Clavio cheekily asks whose "fault" it was for her predicament (of feeling like a woman despite being born a man organ wise), she responds humorously "yung doktor".

Later, Miriam takes the hand of Naomi, and starts off her "We Are The World" monologue: how she understands where Naomi is coming from, how in Naomi's mind these feelings are perfectly valid, and then she begins to veer away from it by saying that there are only two classifications of human beings: man and woman, and that her "beliefs" validate this view. (She's not saying the word "religion" although it is clear this is what she meant, and she will reveal this later.)

Fontanos responds by saying that she also respects Quiambao's view, and is hoping that Quiambao will return the same respect when she states how she feels internally. In short, she - paradoxically - is the better representative to espouse that oft-quoted "World Peace" line, where she advocates allowing people to have their own belief systems and not to let one's personal beliefs dictate how and what others should do in their own lives.

Alas, Miriam does not take this sitting down - I imagine the dialogue in her head to be something along the lines of "How dare this transgender talk to me, and lecture me about acceptance and tolerance! I, an almost-Miss Universe winner in 1999, who recently posed for the cover of Playboy, who knows and was trained how to verbalize World Peace in more than one way, being schooled about the "World Peace" concept!"

She does the next "logical" thing: she invokes her God.

"Pero, hindi naman yan katotohanan ko, katotohanan yan ng Diyos." (But it is not my truth, it is the truth of God.)

And as we all "know", once a person invokes "God", you supposedly cannot make any more rebuttals or criticisms, as that would be akin to "attacking" a person's religion.

I'd laugh harder at this kind of "reasoning", if only the consequences weren't so dire for us who have to live with this level of intolerance whilst those who claim "religious freedom" as their cornerstone for sprouting hateful missives adopt some illusory mantle of moral superiority and continue - pun intended - lording it over everyone else they deem inferior by the mere fact that others choose not to believe in the same god they do.

Hey, Miriam, religion is a choice. Get over yourself. Get off your soapbox.

I will not delve into the pros and cons of "allowing" transgenders into superficial pursuits. Even Naomi admits that beauty pageants are shallow and demean women. That pro-and-con list has been dissected over and over and most everyone has give their 5 (Philippines) pesos worth of opinions on.

You may have your own religious beliefs, Miriam, that is guaranteed under our Constitution, and under the laws of any democratic country. It is the very reason why - sorry, CBCP (Catholic Bishops's Conference of the Philippines) - there is no "state religion" in any democracy, as it infringes on an individual's right to choose what belief systems would be most compatible with their particular, individual lives.

In the same breath, you do not have the right to impose your own beliefs onto someone else, and force them to conform to something you have elected to subscribe to as a matter of personal faith. You may think Naomi is "lower" than you, that she is "not a real woman", and I'm sure your religion says much more delightful things about her, more than I can think of if I had to spend a whole day thinking of demeaning things to say under the imprimatur of "religious righteousness".

You're not an actress, Miriam, so don't bother trying to pass this off as a "misunderstanding" of your stance. The fact that you can smile while sprouting off such intolerant statements makes me cringe, but then again, we've had our local CBCP, Falwell, Santorum, Palin, Bush and many other religious zealots giving us practice on this very act: having an innocent, plastered grin while telling those who don't believe "in the same way as I do" that they will be put to death "in the next life".

One of the "heavy" arguments mentioned to me against allowing transgenders to join beauty pageants is that a popular question of this circuit is "what is the essence of a woman?", and the most deemed "correct" response is "to be a mother", and since transgenders are biologically unable to do so, then they should be barred from the contest.

So barren and reproductively challenged women are not "real women" as well?

And a woman who clings to her "religious beliefs", the ones that tell her that sex outside of marriage or artificial insemination are "sins", who do not have children given their particular situations, they are also "not real women"?

Should Miriam herself be declared "not a real woman" since, you know, she hasn't given birth? (Strangely, as Jessica Zafra pointed out in her recent piece, beauty pageant winners are stripped of their titles if they become pregnant during their "reign". Talk about mixed messages.)

And if you're going to be all huffy about being "right with God", you better make sure you've never signed divorce papers, effectively having your marriage "torn asunder".

Was this approved by your religion, too?

(Courtesy of getitfromboy.net)

Hey, if you can dish it, you should be able to take it. And the fact that you can't even uphold your own religious guidelines (I don't think getting a divorce and appearing on the cover of a "men's magazine" qualify you for your religion's Best Representative position..unless there are loopholes, yet again?), that's just a bonus.

Akala ko pa naman "world peace" ang isinusulong ng mga contests na to. (And here I thought "world peace" was a central thrust of contests like this.)

Just more magnificently applied lipstick-covered lip service.

Dinner With Nicole R.'s Body Double

Having had a very strenuous work week, I was looking forward to staying home for the long weekend when Arthur calls to tell me that we have to meet up with a friend of his - "we have to" - and so I readied myself with much grunting and grumbling.

(Good thing we were meeting his friend at a place that served good food, which served to alleviate some of my misgivings about having a late dinner.)

What I didn't know was that I would be meeting the possible stand in of erstwhile socialite/former BFF of the more (in)famous "heiress" Paris Hilton, Nicole Richie. (Well, Paris has a more legitimate claim to the title heiress, her family being the owners of a known hotel line. Nicole doesn't sing, does she?)

(Photo courtesy of goddessmag.com)

Arthur's friend was so frail and, I swear, she actually makes how Nicole appears in the picture above heavy. She was very, very nice, and again, that helped ease the evening. As she could fill in - literally - for Nicole R., let's call her Leticia. (Follow the arrows: Nicole's double ->  Nicolette ->  Drop the Nico  ->  Letty  -> Make it prettier.)

Leticia was a successful entrepreneur, having launched many companies abroad (based in Europe), all of which are doing quite well. Happily married to a foreigner and with kids, she struck me as someone who epitomizes the term "made", at least in both her family and work life. She didn't have on "branded" clothing, as what I might have normally expected from someone who's lived abroad for decades, a refreshing change from those twits who just went abroad for a week and come home with completely different accents and turning their noses up on "dirty" ice cream.

As expected, a large part of the evening was spent discussing business possibilities and opportunities, seeing as how she was a businesswoman in Europe, which is in the doldrums economically these days. I got a chance to see a true entrepreneur at work: I marveled at how she seemed to take in every detail discussed at the table, and analyzing it right there and then as to how it would fit into her general business plans and how she could minimize any negative effects that were brought up. She was involved in everything: food containers, retail, property, fashion and beauty, the list went on. This was someone born to be an entrepreneur and a businesswoman, one who reveled at difficult market situations to see how she could beat it and make a living despite it.

I certainly laid to rest those thoughts that she would be as "heir-headed" (horrible pun, I know) as Nicole.

Just as I was beginning to like her for her acumen in matters of business (and as I was digging into a delicious heirloom tomato salad), she suddenly stunned us by saying. "Arthur, do you like my boobs?"

Dead silence as we were digesting what just happened.

Without missing a beat and with the same analytical mind she used everyday for work, she proceeded to name the pros and cons of the next topic she would bring up: "You see, I have been thinking about my breasts for the longest time. They're sagging, they're drooping, they're just sad. And they need to be filled out and up! No one wants to look at sad eyes, do they? And I can't wear anything right! All these wonderful clothes, always stuck in a closet because my breasts don't look right in them. I'm the anti-model, I make clothes look bad. So I went to a plastic surgeon, and after choosing from the catalog as to what size, girth and depth I wished by breasts to be, he worked his art and here I am now!...What, is it too small? Too raised? Does it make me look like a bimbo? I'll have it reduced if that's how it looks. I certainly need to look good for business. I'm confronted with business people from all these different countries and I have to look my best."

More dead air as this was certainly different from what we ordered for the evening. And to top it off, she turns to me as asks:

"How about you, Joey? Look at my breasts...are they okay?"

I said "Mfjhuksshjpwmqj." (Muffled response while stuffing my mouth with as much greens as I could muster. I imagine I would say the same thing if I had something of that size pressed against my face.)

She then turns "introspective". "You know, I really don't like how I look, that's why I've already had my arms and legs sculpted, my tummy tucked a few times. I feel so fat, bloated and ugly...the only time I am able to wear anything sleeveless and backless is after I've been refreshed by the doctor. I've been to him so much, I should really get one of those loyalty cards that give me a free treatment after 10 visits. But that's the only way I can keep up and feel presentable with all these presentations, meetings and lunches and dinners I have to transact business in and socialize. I have to look my best."

Arthur turns to her with an incredulous look: "Leticia, you were never fat to begin with. In fact, I've always noted how payat (thin) you were and always wondered if you were fed properly and have the right nutrition, even from way back. Look at you, buto't balat ka na nga, eh! ("you're all skin and bones!")...I don't understand how you can say you're bloated."

Leticia says with much conviction: "Basta. (No direct English equivalent, something akin to "no more discussion, that's it, take it or leave it" but yet, not quite.) I feel fat and ugly. In fact, next, I'm having my cheekbones raised and my facial features enhanced."

I looked at Leticia from head to feet - as much as one can from a seated position, anyway - and wondered how was it possible that this business-savvy woman, with many companies to her name, a confident, killer attitude in conquering places where few women would think of setting foot in and manage to shine and outsmart the men in their game, could have a self-esteem so shattered and broken, that even though no one could find anything wrong with her physically, managed to be laden with self-doubt and unattractive pity for her physical stature that she had to overhaul herself - there's no other word for it - so as to give herself a sense of "worth".

Needless to say, my initial admiration for her fell the way credit ratings for Greece have fallen: a fast, sharp, downward fall.

When we got home, I asked Arthur to show me pictures of her when he knew her way back when. She was stunning in that photo I saw. She didn't have a square jaw, but soft features. Arthur was right, she would never be considered "fat" by any stretch of the imagination. She would probably be thought of as "malnourished" by some quarters, in fact. She had on a smile that seemed to indicate how carefree she was - and how unconcerned she was with her physical features.

A far cry from what I witnessed a few hours before I saw this picture from a past I'm not sure even she recognizes anymore.

It also drove home what it means to live in these times: we are supposed to be ashamed of every "flaw" we find in our bodies these days. We must be incredibly lazy, inept or just plain "uncaring" if we insist on carrying on our balding hairline, our blotchy skin, that crooked smile because of uneven teeth, those pesky last 10 to 15 pounds, that "cute" height (read: being short), frizzy locks. The message is no longer how we can "improve" ourselves, but how wretched our lives will be with our present, "unedited" state, and that true success and satisfaction can only be achieved if you let cosmetic surgeons, dermatologists, fitness professionals, stylists, hairdressers, dentists and a whole lot more industries come in and "fix" what's "wrong" with us.

We've taken the concept of "Photoshopping" ourselves to incredibly superficial, twisted and dangerous levels. It's come to the point where there is no more "self" left to salvage in our own self-worth.

I didn't realize our individuality was supposed to make us cringe and fear our own skin.