I’ve always thought that the whole heartbreak-hype was just a ploy by big corporations to lure unsuspecting females who just had their heart broken, into believing that they’ll feel better once they’ve stuffed themselves silly with chocolate and cried themselves hoarse over Meg Ryan-Tom Hanks flick shown every once in a while on HBO.

I declare myself a sucker to the hype.

N and I went into what’s probably a normal phase in every couple’s life. But one led to another, and a couple of piled-up ire later, and it was Splitsville. It was me who called it quits.

I thought I could actually do without the dramatics. The first two days were surreal. I just kind of went along my days with apathy. I was strong. I could do this. And I played "I Will Survive" over and over my head wherever I went (sort of like the model and her ramp song), which I think is the reason why I walked with such carefree arrogance.

On the third day I woke-up with "Pasko na sinta ko" (It’s Christmas my beloved) blaring in my ears. And I lost it. It was "why? Why? Why?" from then on. I bawled like I never did before, and I started hugging, re-reading, and sighing over the little things that reminded me of N. On my fourth consecutive playing of "Crazy Love", my sister called my dad and asked if she could stay for the whole weekend in our vacation house in Laguna. I couldn’t eat anything unless it had the brand Nestle, Hershey, Meiji, Cadbury or Goya on it. I strongly resisted the urge to call or text him, until my maid finally took pity on me and hid my phone.

Two more days later, and I was feeling calmer. And then comes the make-over phase.

I really don’t know why, but every girl who’s had her heart broken seems to have this nagging urge to make big changes in her appearance. I wanted to have a really short haircut, and then I looked at myself and noticed my hair has grown two inches longer, and I knew I won’t be able to lose another love. And so I settled for … waxing.

I’ve never waxed my legs before so this was really a first. The anticipation occupied my mind for a while so I was able to forget about N for a few glorious moments. A lot of people say that waxing is painful, but it’s actually a sinful treat. But I thought, "hey, I just had my heart broken, I think I could handle this kind of pain".

So I trotted with my sister to the salon and told the receptionist I want a whole leg waxing. She looked at my legs with a frown then called the owner. HE then looked at me and slowly asked, "Are you sure?"

I thought, "It’s that bad?" I just gulped and nodded yes.

So the process began, and after a short ceremony came the first peeling. It wasn’t as painful as I thought, in fact, it wasn’t painful at all. When they were done with my first leg, I was actually enjoying the shiny, silky feel to it. Then one of the gay stylists approached me. He took one look at my legs then proceeded to touch and smooth my un-waxed one and said, "Wow, waxing really suits you noh? It’s so smooth, and there’s really no hair" I really couldn’t help but smile when I informed him, "Uh, that one hasn’t been waxed yet." Obviously surprised, he asked, "Huh? Eh bakit nagpa-wax ka pa?" (Why did you have a wax then?). I sheepishly smiled and the owner said, "actually, what the wax did for you was remove the dead skin. Hija you don’t have scary leg hairs like these (points to gay stylist’s legs) that’s why I asked if you were sure. Kaw talaga, wala kang magawa sa buhay mo noh? (You don’t have anything to do better with your life huh?" My sister couldn’t stop laughing. Half an hour later, and two gorgeously waxed legs later, I was already feeling better.

I guess break-ups really make you do crazy things sometimes.

To my motime friends: your e-love has made enduring this easier. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

***

TECHIE’S To-do list for 2005:

1. Achieve the weight 110lbs. I’m now 116lbs.
2. Be nicer to everyone.
3. Smile more
4. Find the perfect vintage dress and wear it to work (if short, have another leg wax)
5. Style a grand photoshoot (with elaborate presentation) – Paris style
6. Visit Boracay again
7. Live life in full drama (I only live once, so why not go with the whole production?)
8. Be at peace with myself
9. Sing and blog more often
10. Fall in love again

• Actually, I’m still in love so maybe #10 doesn’t count.
• As of press time (I can’t believe I used that term) N and I will be having a calmer, and more serious heart to heart. Simply put, he started the conversation with, "Sweetie, I want you back. Please let’s work this out", the conversation abruptly stopped because it was time for my hair spa treatment. Well whatever the conclusion, I know I’ll be gorgeous. Cross your fingers everyone.

Been absent from motime for a couple of days. Again. Our company’s network has been sick and we couldn’t log in for about a week. It was a pleasant surprise however, to discover that the motime system underwent some major changes, and I think it’s for the better. And I think it would be even greater if I actually know how to use the new… buttons, added by Howard.

Techieidiot strikes again.

Still, I’m not losing hope. I know I’ll be able to discover the wonders of the neat new stuffs on motime (like the new templates!) but for now, I’d satisfy myself with my old blog – but I really hope I could use the new features soon. (silently sends SOS signal to Harriene to help me with the technical stuffs sometime in the near future )

***

I came across Harriene’s and Giuli’s comment on Howard’s post regarding the new face of motime, and I can’t help but agree with them when they felt nostalgic toward the old ‘system’.

The old motime made me feel like I was writing on an actual journal – the ones made out of recycled paper, designed to look like the autumn season (I agree with Giuli, the orange really made a difference), and kept with an actual lock shaped like a heart. I only like the color orange in two instances – during sunsets and on motime.

I’ve always seen motime as a virtual home and since I started with it, there has been a nagging (yet most of the time proud) feeling of possessiveness on my part, as though the only people who could understand and accept me as Techieidiot are those registered on motime alone. I guess Ex-groupie was right – motimers are clannish.

And yup, you never feel alone when you’re logged-on. For me, fellow bloggers are just a few yards away from where I am, and there are no actual oceans among us. Now that’s what I call magic.

I don’t have a problem with other blog servers, I bet they feel the same as I do with motime, still there’s a certain kind of… electricity, whenever I visit even those blogs whom I don’t know. Or maybe I’m just really lucky. Hmmmm.

But I’m welcoming this change like a new friend, and I really look forward to more comfortable and easier days of blogging.

Hats off to Howard and his crew, you guys are fantastic.

Cheers everyone.

I was waiting for a cab last night when I decided to drop in nearby Chowking and get myself siopao (Chinese meat buns) since I haven’t really had a proper meal the whole day. Before I got in, one street urchin approached me and asked if I could give him my botchi in case I decided to order the laureat. He had this really honest smile which caught my attention so I said I’ll get him a merienda size siopao instead. His eyes literally lit-up and said he’ll be waiting for me by the door.

When I was waiting to give my order, I realized I was behind my ‘good deeds’ for the season so I decided I’ll give him a jumbo siopao instead. So I just grabbed my orders, went out and looked for the kid.

When I gave him the plastic, he gave me a toothy grin, warmly said thank you, then left.

I was again waited for a cab when the kid came back and said, "ate, nagkapalit tayo, nabigay mo saken jumbo, merienda lang po ang sabi niyo" (you gave me your jumbo siopao by mistake).

I was literally taken-aback by his honesty, and realized the world has hope afterall.

There really was nothing left for me to do but say, "Nah, you take it. I’m on a diet anyway."

Dieting, has never felt this good.

Saw this line on an imported whitening facial wash the other day:

‘Perfect for all skin types. Removes horniness instantly"

Riiighttt. Don’t think I’m trying this one.

J

***

We recently heard (probably a rumor) that network giant, GMA 7 conducted a series of auditions for the role of Pinay Superwoman, Darna – for a fantaserye which will soon air to ‘battle’ ABS-CBN’s supergirl, Krystala. The preliminary testing proved to be a total carnival event as big-named actresses and low-key personalities tried their luck for the role. But it turned out, GMA is looking for a specific look for Mars Ravelo’s heroine – tall, perfect bod, and an even perfect face.

A few girls almost made it, but it seems their flaws stand-out the moment they step into the costume – Diana Zubiri’s thighs were too big, Alessandra De Rossi was too thin, Rica Peralejo made a mistake auditioning (I think she was part of Dos), Ruffa Mae Quinto already has her own superhero identity, Jolina Magdangal was too old.

And then there was Cindy Kurleto. She was perfect. Tall, flawless skin, angelic face, dazzling smile. The costume fit her like second skin, and guys practically howled when she walked out in the skimpy suit.

And so they scheduled for the first taping of the teaser.

The cameras loved her, and the minute they started rolling, it seemed everything spelled skyline rates from then on.

And then, the crucial line…

"DING! ANG BATOW!"

Tsk-tsk. I think what followed was pandemonium, which I guess was just a nasty exaggeration. After the initial awe of her beauty, the producers were now faced with the hard truth of their supposed star: she’s got a foreign tongue for crying out loud! The role calls not just for a sizzling body but a mouth, which could pronounce Filipino as hard FILIPINO, not Filipinow.

I’ve got nothing against Cindy, I think she’s really gorgeous and would probably make a dazzling Darna. But she has to say ‘pasko, paksiw’ two thousand times before she can convince me.

Okay, girl talk. Again. Guys, don’t even dare read this entry if you’re the type who’d guffaw at the mere mention of diets, shopping, Brent Javier and shoes. Still there? Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Just found, or more appropriately, came-up with the kind of diet that works for me. By ‘work’, I mean the kind which doesn’t leave me ravenous at the sight of blueberry pies, fried chicken or a juicy cheeseburgers – simply because I’m allowed to try bits of those magnificent munchies once in a while.

What drove me to finally get serious with a diet? N, of course. About a month ago, he hugged me so tight, kissed me on the forehead and instead of the usual "damn, you’re a gorgeous girlfriend", sweetly said, "woah sweetie, you over-ate noh?" After which he was ridiculously befuddled as to why I suddenly went rigid, stepped on his foot and stormed away from him. Tsk-tsk, soooo not attractive on the great boyfriend scale.

Of course he retaliated with the usual, "oh babe, you know I still think you look great, now I have more of you to hug." Rrrriiightttt. So not attractive.

Well that was my push. I really wanted to cut down on the pies na because I’ve began entertaining (bad) daydreams on what I’d look like when I’m around 30. Not to mention the health risk. My normal day would be: wake-up by 10, eat, go to work, eat, do more work, eat, shop, go home, midnight snack, sleep. Yup, the type nightmare healthbuffs are afraid of.

Oh come on, shallow? Not really. In a job where (sadly) looks often make a difference if you want to be part of the ‘circle’ and work harmoniously with those around your two-faced environment, sometimes it really does pay to put a bit more attention on how you present yourself. You can’t always be a wallflower in all those frou-frou events. You have to be assertive, or else they’ll eat you for brunch. Sure you’re probably better than any of them, and you’ve got what’s really important to survive in the real world (like brains), but sadly, they don’t give a sh*t. They’d give more attention to the brand of shoes you’re wearing than your above-average I.Q. It’s a ruthless environment I know, but hey, someone has to do it.

Okay, going back to the diet…

I tried my fingers on those fad diets like Atkins and South Beach, but damn they need more than self-control to complete the phases, you need a miracle! Between the two, South Beach seemed like the healthier choice, and aside from the ‘no sweets’ and ‘no fruits’ part, I think I could handle this one.

So it was no rice for me (which is almost impossible for an Asian) at the start. I started bringing my own food in the office – tuna in brine, steamed vegetables, egg and tomato salad. For sweets, I compensated my craving by drinking diet soda and sugar-free candies. It was hard, but the determination was there.

After four days, a gay officemate grabbed me by the arm while walking to the elevator and said, "You’re on a diet. Is it serious?" When I nodded yes, he said, "winner. Keep it up. it shows." So I thought, "hey, I must be doing something right." But I still have incredible hunger pangs so I changed my diet a bit – eat all the meat (except for the fat) and seafoods I want until I feel full, also (to the amusement of my officemates, no idea why) I can eat all the eggs I want. Vegetables are okay, but eating them all the time makes them taste like grass, and I ain’t no rabbit food eater. The sweets were the hardest part, particularly when our layout artist celbrated his birthday and a PR gave him a whole Jollibee cake – the stuff all kids’ sweet dreams are made of. For that part, I just went down, and sulked on how cruel and superficial the world is. Hehe.

A week and a half after, I noticed small but distinguishable changes in my body – no more salbabida underneath the bra area, more pointy shoulders, visible collarbone (which I haven’t seen for almost three months), and I don’t have to hold my breath that much to hide my tummy. The best part of course, is that I don’t go hungry. I reward myself to bites of pastries (particularly Bread Talk’s Berries & Cream), spoonfuls of ice cream, and tall fancy coffees or teas (it used to be ALWAYS grande). My dad, looked at me one morning, then said, "anak, buti na lang nagda-diet ka na (it’s good that you’re dieting)", and supported my scheme by constantly stacking Coke lights instead of the usual regular. Our maid, who would often get on my case by saying, "eh mataba ka naman eh! (but you’re already fat!)" now says, "ay ate, pumapayat ka na nga, may stretch marks ka na eh! (you are getting thinner, you now have stretch marks)". I took that as a compliment.

So what I initially planned as a 3-week diet, I’m now stretching to two months (I’m now on my fourth week). It’s a nice feeling to be able to fit in some of my clothes, which I stopped wearing for the past three months because I look like a suman. Some of my officemates look forward to the foodies I bring to the office, which I gladly share with them. Caloy, my seatmate, often gets my leftover sweets (I munch a bite or two then ask him to finish it for me), and he’d laugh at me and say, "para kang pusa (you’re like a cat)". I’ve noticed he’s beginning to stack on the pounds, and I hate to think it’s because of me. Hehe

I think the best compliment though, was when N hugged me once more (me now bravely wearing a backless top to the office), kissed me on the forehead, and said, "hmmm… I think I’m buying you new lingerie…"