“Women suffer from four times as many problems than men. This is believed to be a result of their choice of footwear, which usually consists shoes with narrow toes and high heels.”
Narrow minds and high expectations, there you go. Those two major facts, hurt. How ever it could be changed, most of the time, it’s irrevocable. Like a cold-blooded disease that kills.
And yet you deal with it, walk with it and endure the pain until you grow tired of it, or worse, until it grows on you. It’s funny how the world seems to present you with a lot of options when you really don’t have much of a choice when it comes to things similar as this. I’m too tired of walking poised with the air of confidence, pretending it doesn’t hurt. And all those people look at you beaming, thinking that you’re comfortably hanging around on your heels. And you think that as long as you put on that happy face along with extraordinary cheerfulness, you could fool all of them. If they knew you’re tears are not of joy, but of prolonging agony (that I would very much like to be cut off). If they knew that you’re dragging your blistered feet each day to get to where you should be (and you don’t even like where you’re in), they would probably let you stop running for a while and spend time with no darn excrutiating minute.
All I need is a pair of comfy slippers. I don’t want any fancy pointed shoes anymore. I want to wear something in which my feet would be allowed to breathe. But since slippers are strictly a no-no in the society of freaks, I might as well start looking for an almost perfect fit that I can tolerate. After all, high-heeled shoes are not made for walking, it’s only for aesthetic purposes. Okay, so I’m keeping my spirits up by convincing myself that I look better this way and that there’s no sense in complaining. But how can you stop bitching when you’re momentarily sandwiched between the temporal affair of truths and lies? I guess that ain’t your problem,because it is ultimately mine.
“When our feet hurt, we hurt all over”.- Socrates
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Here’s something to spike up the mood. My nephew, Terence (yeah, the 3-month old baby), couldn’t stop wailing as I was trying to put him to sleep this morning. So I thought of a way to entertain him. I turned on the radio and cranked up the volume and since I’ve been long deprived of regular excercise, I commenced on dancing like crazy. Picture any of Cameron Diaz’s dance moves in Charlie’s Angels, Something About Mary, Invicible Circus (almost all her silly movies eh?). Got it? So while I was pacing back and forth and shaking my hips to either side, twisting and turning - something caught my eyes… A middle-aged man intently gawking up at me from the terrace while I was at it! Anyway, he’s at the 10th floor and I’m at the 12th. He had this stupid grin that I could still see flashing in my head. Yuck! And I was pretty sure that he could see me through the untinted window. I hurriedly collected myself and as if a bullet would suddenly shoot directly at me, i hid under the bed. And i just wanted to scream. I’m positive that he saw everything! as in everything! Me in my pambahay shorts and tiny sleeveless blouse strutting my stuff. Wah. Gawd, I don’t wanna see that guy in the hallway!
Never dance in the daylight with shutters open. Ever again.
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It takes great courage to grow up.
When I was with my high-school-through-college friends last Sunday, I found myself in a different mood. All of a sudden, I could no longer find the fun in childish chatters, I was no longer laughing at the same slapstick jokes, I was…not happy with the crowd. And although I must admit that I missed them so and that it was comforting to see familiar faces again, the word “belongingness” rang out a whole new meaning to me. For the first time in all those times I’ve shared with them, I felt completely out of place. Perhaps I had just been caught in a moment, but as I think about it now…I feel that for some reason, we have grown apart. In terms of individual tastes or choice of topic,probably, specifically. Man, maybe I need some “sorting out”. Maybe I can give my friends the right to accuse me that I’ve changed. For I have. And I won’t even lodge into an attempt to deny.
I shake my head in disbelief, this is so peculiar. Is this really ME? Haha. You see, I’ve moved from reading between the lines to drawing lines. Setting limitations and opening up myself to alternatives.
Just a quick jotting down. I am now liking the feeling of having obligations and I take pleasure in learning how to go about it. Taking care of responsibilities is now simmering down in me. Being selfish is no longer a prerogative of living in an unfair world, giving is. So in totality, I think the events in my life has done me more good than bad. I’ve become the safest bet in the universe. Haha. If you know what I mean.
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