Oblivious 2

   Back arched. Water running down her bronze skin. Wet crystals surf up and down until they hit the bathtub. Her beautiful curves stand obvious to any female-interested eye. Massaging her scalp, she enjoys the water teasing her perfectly hanging breasts--thinking she has come a long way. Water slopes down her back , goes up a perfect half-circle, and finally streams along her thighs. Flawless drops. Flawed skin. And only she knows.

  She steps out of the bathtub, wraps a towel around herself and then examines herself in the mirror. The towel drops to the floor. She can see her head-to-toe reflection, unfortunately. She takes a step closer to the mirror, hoping her imperfections will--miraculously-- disappear if she looks closely at them. She is one step closer to the mirror. They're still there.

  She remembers how she felt with water surrounding her body: alive. With every drop caressing her skin, she felt worth touching. With every drop teasing a body part, she felt feminine. The water didn't care. It understood she was human. She can't be perfect.

But she wants to be. Nevertheless, her years of self-consciousness and emotional recovery from teenage obesity have taught her a lesson: one can only be a perfect version of one they already is.

 Still standing across from herself and being exposed to her own,very critical, eyes, she wonders if her physical imperfections have left marks on the person that lies within. Ten years later, she wonders if she's still thirteen-years old inside, if she has grown up at all, if she's more comfortable in her own skin. She doubts it. Then she doesn’t. Then she thinks it’s a maybe.

  She hears music playing in the distance, and in the small space between the mirror and the wall she dances. She shyly watches her wriggling bare curves and smiles at herself whenever she masters a move.

 But no, if water is satisfied with bathing her beautifully-flawed skin, if water is in fact that oblivious , it’s simply because it’s just water. No human being will ever examine her with such a tolerant eye.

 She's too stubborn not to love herself enough until it is exactly how she wants it to be. She never was nor will she ever be oblivious to what she lacks, to what she has, or to what seems to be.

  She takes a deep breath and stares at a reflection of the embodiment of the person she has become rather than who she feels she really is. She thinks to herself that the next time water slides over her skin and makes her aware of her temporary shell, she will have come one step closer to the image in her head, to the love she owes to herself. Perhaps  she’ll have come one step closer to perfection. Or one step closer to being oblivious to it.

Just a little slower

   I think it was meant to slow me down. Or in better words, it happened so I can slow down and therefore become more appreciative of what I have, where I am and all of the opportunities that lay before me and ahead of me. It was meant to happen so that my options would be less and so I would stop being overwhelmed by the possibilities at hand that I always –more often than not- try to grab all at once. The result of which is inevitable frustration and exhaustion.

 And it did slow me down of course. Sometimes it slowed me down a little too much, it was painful. My enthusiastic, fiery, curious self hates nothing more than restraint. The idea has been implanted in my brain, the resources have been made accessible but it is I who can’t do it; it is just like having the apple within arm’s length but you just can’t reach it. Nevertheless, I, now, look back at the past 2 weeks and see that I’ve been calmer and more organized. I’ve managed to attend sessions, meet a few students outside class, plan for my weekends, study, and more importantly enjoy the little things about every passing day.

 I have been able to do more than just look around me; I have seen what I’m surrounded by. I have noticed, observed and taken mental notes. It is definitely something I’ve long needed; to take a step backwards, stand still and watch the world move forward on either side of my body because otherwise it is very hard to observe. With no observation, I believe, no proper opinion can  be formed, no genuine appreciation can result and no true enjoyment will take place.

I am glad. I am glad I broke a bone in my foot.

Wishful Thinking

  Black smudges on the pillow. Wrinkled bed sheets.  Eyes staring at the ceiling. Puffy  ones. “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” was playing tonight, is playing right now in fact. I could’ve gone. I’d wanted to go since I’ve heard it was going to play today. I was thrilled because I’m free Wednesday evenings and because I would get the chance to wear one of my new skirts.

  Mirrors are tricky things though. They are honest. And in my case, more often than not, they’re not only honest, they’re blunt.

 It was an exciting morning with many planned errands run, I felt accomplished. Now, the evening has come. Time for some fun. I slowly opened the drawer, picked a skirt and anxiously tried it on. I walked to the mirror. I took a few steps forward and then a few ones backwards. Turned around, tried every pose possible. I tried on a second skirt. I tried on a third skirt. Alas.  The gods of weight loss along with the gods of self-esteem don’t want to give me a break. And I desperately need one.

 Nothing is more unsettling than the feeling of being stuck within yourself. Not with yourself, but within.  Time is another tricky thing. It just won’t give you what you want when you need it the most. You have to wait, and most of the time it is painfully inconvenient.

  Lying still on my bed fighting tears and thoughts, wishing I had a different body, at least for tonight. Or maybe wishing I didn’t care how I looked or maybe wishing I was thirteen again , starting all over and never approaching those cookies.

 Lying still on my bed, Black smudges on the pillow. Wrinkled bed sheets.  Eyes staring at the ceiling. Puffy  ones.

Insignificant

 

Inhale. Exhale. Clenching her left fist, releasing it,clenching it again. She stood squinting at the big white door ; her next challenge.

Time to go in, I can't just stand here.

As she swung the door open an air-conditioned breeze flew her way. Nervously scanning for him in the big work office, her lungs decided she needed the air inside for now.

The radar that had been implanted in her since she arrived at work disregarded all the buzzing voices in the background, and then it picked up his voice behind her, greeting someone. He wasn't just his usual loud. He was happy loud. She unclenched her first, and her lungs released the air free.

She turned around,and saw him; the man who once awakened senses  in her she never knew she had. The only man in her adult life who made her feel like life is worth living;who made her feel alive.

He wanted time off he said. Despite all his troubles, I still can't believe he wanted time off from me.

Standing across from him, her eyes faked looking for something behind him and as they turned to the left, they met his. His eyes were brown lit and his smile pearl white. He was happy. And I have nothing to do with it. A smile formed slowly on her face despite herself.

“ You're back ?” She asked in what she thought appeared as a nonchalant manner.

“ Yeah, I arrived a few days ago. You didn't know?” His smile slightly faded away.

  Her thumb started rapidly rubbing the back of the ring on her ring finger.

“ How would I ? You were totally cut off from the world for a month.”

  A moment of silence dawned on the both of them, she looked deeply into his eyes and knew she wouldn't hear what would soothe her heart.

“ I...umm..I...have to go. I have work to do.” She whispered.

She couldn't wait for him to respond – or she was scared to. She turned around,feeling her heart expanding in her chest. Breathless. She walked out of the office from the back door as if she'd been under water for hours, and now sticking her head out for some air.

It started when she commented on a short story he posted on his blog. They talked about it the next day at work, and they didn't stop talking for the following 3 weeks. They talked about everything to its finest detail. Their past was no longer shameful , their present no longer boring and future plans not a secret. No time on Earth was enough for them to quench their curiosity; they had finally found each other.

Inhale. Exhale. She had her back to the wall. Staring into the corridor, she hoped the solution to her misery would pop out of thin air. She bent her knees, pulling herself down the wall. She shut her eyes for a few moments and held her forehead in her palm;deep in shock. She decided to open her eyes, and slowly pushed herself upwards. Regaining her balance, she stepped away from the wall, and tied her hair in a pony tail. Eyes closed. Jaw clenched. It's time to face the music.

On their first official date, a romantic moment brought them closer than they' d ever been. Eyes closed. She was trying to preserve the moment,to lock it up in a place of happy memories in her heart. She couldn't believe it was really happening.

Well, it wasn't.

Opening the door , her heart thudded against her chest. She walked into the room with her back straight, a clear throat and eyes wide open. So many comforting faces, yet none that really matter. She was looking for his, hoping he wouldn't be there. He wasn't. She sat down, and held a pen with her slightly shaking hand. I have to try to get some work done.

Being so close to a girl, he remembered what he'd been through,and decided he wanted to take it slow. He was scared for the both of them, he said. One week later and a few days before he left, the potential love story went from slow to over.

He walked in the room and looked right past her as if she was a ghost. Work was now the last thing on her mind. She couldn't contain herself. She felt like she had to talk to him; to tell him she'd been restless ever since he left. She placed her left arm on the table,supported herself and slowly stood up. The humiliation she felt was coming her way conjured up tears in her eyes.

She walked up to him in hesitant steps. Standing behind him, she stretched her arm and patted him on his right shoulder. Her eyes fixated on his shoulders, she saw his right shoulder turn slowly to the left . She took a step back, swallowed her saliva and felt it slide down her throat. Now facing her, he looked at her with expressionless eyes. It was only then that she remembered what he had once told her.

“ You know, my friends always ask me why I seem to be perfectly okay whenever I break up with a girl. I tell them that when the most important woman in your life walks out on you,no other woman really ever matters.”

Uncaptured

Adjusting the lens – adjusting some more. This picture has to be perfect. I worked really hard to land a job in this studio. I don't want one picture to go wrong. She goes to the girl sitting on the stool,fixates her fingers on either side of her face, and tilts slightly to the right.

Behind her camera, she peeps through the lens. “ You guys look great, now look into each others' eyes and smile.” Click. Flash. The three of them are happy. A moment of happiness has been captured. Time has been enframed ,in this picture,forever.

In the small waiting area in the studio, she waits for other customers to show up. A smile appears on her face as though it doesn't belong to her. She thinks of how ironic her job is,considering. People come here on their official bad hair day, with bushy eyebrows and custard yellow teeth wanting their picture taken. A good one that is. And she still manages to do it.

She sits them down, makes small talk, makes them smile and then takes their picture. She later looks at the pictures and thinks they could've at least taken a shower before they came in. Despite all, she patiently edits, she patiently breathes in and out , until the pictures are exactly how she wants them. If it isn't perfection in the picture,then at least happiness is. She stares into the mirror across from her, and witnesses tears of guilt stream down her face. Strangers. I do this for pure strangers.

She opens the door to her apartment,it's dead quiet. They're probably on the roof or something. She notices the furniture in the reception has been moved around, and the vases and antiques are randomly placed on the tables. She then remembers her mom was talking about sprucing it up a bit. Joy does need to be let back in the house- or they could at least try. She also remembers that she isn't the least bit interested in helping her mom.

One week later, the reception looks as if it has been truly-renovated. Carpets cleaned,furniture polished, all sorts of antiques and souvenirs tastefully- placed on the tables. The walls in the house were never plain though ; the old paintings were removed and new ones were hung instead. Yet, with no familiar faces within the frames,nothing has really changed.

Figured Out

Back to the mirror. Tucked shirt,pressed pants. He turns around, making sure his freshly-grown abs are showing - they are. He closes his eyes,imagining what it would be like - to date again. He crosses his fingers,sprays his Paco Rabanne and leaves the room. Just as he is about to leave the house, he takes a second glance at himself in the mirror by the door; he admires his newly-done eyebrows. Close up,his admiration drops to a doubt. But it's too late - he thinks to himself, I wanted to get them done, and I did.

Ten years ago when he was first contemplating the idea, he was actually repulsed by it. I have yet more to discover about myself ,his subconscious would tell him.But in the light of day, he had to convince himself that he is all figured out.

Driving his car, he listens to the romantic songs on his ipod. One song after the other ; one tear after another. I can't relate to any of these songs. I have experienced love before, just not the type they seem to be singing about.

He closes his eyes for a second, just to push the negative thoughts back in his head. Tonight is a good night because I'm going to meet the one person who in a very long time has made me feel really good about myself.

He steps into the downtown bar. Loud. Hot. Crowded. He sees a sea of faces - male faces. He takes another quick look until his eyes finally meet his date's. They exchange smiles. He walks downstairs, walks up to him and the moment he shakes his hands he knows he is wrong. Again.

Oblivious

  Back arched. Water running down her bronze skin. Wet crystals surf up and down until they hit the bathtub. Her beautiful curves stand obvious to any female-interested eye. Massaging her scalp, she enjoys the water teasing her perfectly hanging breasts-thinking she has come a long way. Water slopes down her back , goes up a perfect half-circle, and finally streams along her thighs. Flawless drops. Flawed skin. And only she knows.

  She steps out of the the bathtub, wraps a towel around her and then examines herself in the mirror. The towel drops to the floor. She can see her head-to-toe reflection,unfortunately. She takes a step closer to the mirror,hoping her imperfections would-miraculously- disappear if she looked closely at them. She is one step closer to the mirror. They're still there. They always will be.

  She remembers how she felt with water surrounding her body : alive. With every drop caressing her skin, she felt worth touching. With every drop teasing a body part,she felt feminine. The water didn't care. It understood she was human. She can't be perfect. Will the man of her dreams ever be that oblivious ?