A Woman to Me

July 4, 2014 at 7:52pm

She is a chubby girl. No, I would say, fat. She is a fat girl. 

Her curves would have been the most obvious asset her body can offer, but over, above and beyond, she can offer her heart. And yes, her heart might have been broken over and over, but when you need a pillow to hug, her heart, trypophobic as it may look like, is very available to be lent. In cases her heart will not be available, you can stay in her mouth. By mouth I mean, her unceasing way of saying “Putang ina! Punyeta!”, by which she really means, “tol, mahal na mahal kita..”
I’m telling you, foul words are her fillers, but only she could make foul words music to my ears, I’d want it on a loudspeaker. 

Her daily get up is tucked top. Because she has this wide upper torso, she wears loose colorful blouses. And only she could wear it sexily. Wait, sexily? I’m not sure if that fits the image I have in mind, but I’m sure, she really is so gorgeous. 

Speaking of being gorgeous, there was not a hint that I genuinely see her seeing herself like that. You have to believe me, she applies rouge as though she will not apply until the next day. She looks glowing, full of radiance, yet deep inside, she sees herself small, ugly, stout, helpless. She is that insecure, but she has to know, she has earned my respect. 
She is but a typical girl when you see her, especially when we were still in the university. Although we were in the same circle of friends, I didn’t get to appreciate her. She’s immature. She’s childish. She always wants to blurt out how she feels. 

Until peripeteia occurred. 

I became immature, childish and I blurted out even a single strand of my emotions. 

I closed my world from any possible harm that the people I love could inflict me. She was brave enough to cut the threads I made, the cobweb in that little cavern where I mailed myself in. She entered a world where I expected somebody else to do it for me. She was braver. That’s when I knew I had her. 

I am not writing this to flatter her, but to flatter myself, for I am blessed that I got to be in the dark before I realize I have been given light by this fat girl I used to call ‘weak.’ 

Because when I was down, she held me up. When I locked myself in, she ruined the door to enter and join me in that dark room I call ‘broken’. 

She was there. This girl. When the world and my world abandoned me. She was there. 

And for that, I am way beyond thankful.