TOPAZ HORIZON

Air pumps used to mean nothing to me as they usually meant car tires, balls and basketball shoes. Then I spied these on a shop shelf.My new forest green Cole Haan pumps. With Nike Air technology! I feel like I'm wearing sneakers! Cole Haan is on a huge sale this month--these babies were 75% off. Yes. Originally at Php19,000! Great deal!!!

They're a sensible style and since my style isn't so sensible, I got it in not-so-sensible forest green! Except that when I tried them on with my all-black ensemble (Bench tank, Kate Moss for Topshop pants), they also looked black. So now I just ended up looking like a career bitch... in high heeled sneakers! Now I'm thinking fondly of that scene from Stepford Wives when Matthew Broderick's character tells Nicole Kidman's character about their new life:

Walter: First of all, we're in the country now,
so no more black.
Joanna: No more black? Are you insane?
Walter: You heard me. Only high-powered, neurotic,
castrating, Manhattan career bitches wear black.
Is that what you wanna be?
Joanna: Ever since I was a little girl.

Oh! I've also always dreamed of being a career woman when I was a little girl! Whenever my Papa would start saying things like, "One day, you'll be married..." or "When you have kids..." I would tell him very loudly, "I'm going to be a working woman!" and Papa would shake his head in disapproval. So it's very strange now that he's actually proud of me!

My, my, wasn't yesterday's post petulant (and mildly grammatically incorrect in some parts!)? I blame it on PMS. Migraine, mood swings, more tired than usual and you get whiny me. I guess I got envious of the women around me--efficient and impeccable because they have an army of assistants and maids to help them out.

But my reader Nikki of AskMeWhats, whom I've never met, saw through all my complaints and observed quite accurately, "I have a feeling you're someone who'd rather do things themselves as you know 'the right way' to do it, just like me. That's why I'd rather do things on my own than ask someone to do it then, at the end, not be satisfied!" Indeed, Nikki. That is who I am--I complain of all the work but when people help, I get more annoyed than grateful. And it's because I have a way of doing things and if it's not done just so, I get angry. So I end up doing everything myself! So I should stop complaining!!!

Goodness, I also want to add that my house is always perfectly clean and that I need not think about washing the dishes. I just want to put that out there because my darling sweet husband doesn't want you to think that our house is a mess. It isn't and that's because Vince is such a sweetheart with tidying things up. Why, just today he waxed and polished the floors! Thanks, Vince! Whatever would I do without you?

Yes, I'm in a better mood now. Had spicy tuna maki and tuna sashimi and miso soup--this always puts me in a good mood, this and tinolang manok and my mother-in-law's caldereta. Also went shopping recently. Bought a nice dress, got some seriously cool shoes. Booked an appointment with beauty maestro Louis Phillip Kee. I'm also preparing to leave for an all-expense-paid trip to Singapore this weekend. Well, there you go! What should I be complaining about when I'm the luckiest girl in the world? Shame on me indeed!

At a shoot, the model said, "Oh fuck, I'm wearing a dress? I forgot to shave my legs." She flipped open her phone and said, "Where are you? Get me a razor and I need it now." Five minutes later, a girl appears (I kid you not when I said 5 minutes) with a 7-11 plastic bag with, not one, not two, but three fresh razors (model must be really hairy, eh?).

At another shoot, the stylist had her assistant lug around the bags and clothes and shoes while she walked about the set in her sky-high heels, fresh as a daisy.

At the office, a fellow editor-in-chief had her driver pick up all her bags and folders and bring them to the waiting car where she just slid into the back seat and had the door shut for her and she was whisked away. No, this wasn't Pauline of Preview.

At a bloggers event, I asked a fellow blogger how she can update her blog three to four times a day, "You have a full-time job, like me. Goodness, when I get home, I still have to do chores." "Chores?" she laughed. "I have a maid."

Watching Mad Men the other night, I was struck by how they bossed around their secretaries: "Call this guy, make me coffee, pick this up, type this, send that." Or how Betty Draper barked, "Show him the door, take the laundry upstairs, get the kids."


That is not my life and it has never been my life. In my job, I xerox my own pages, fill up my own forms, schedule my own meetings, call the people I need to talk to myself and bring my own huge bags. At home, I do my own cooking and cleaning and housekeeping (with a lot of help from Vince who loves to clean!). We don't have a car so I take the bus or the train or the cab or the tricycle. I line up at the bank to pay the bills, the grocery to buy food, the drugstore to refill my prescriptions, the post office to send and pick up packages. I do everything!!!

"No wonder you're so tired," my friends all tut-tut, their beautifully painted faces expressing concern and their perfectly manicured hands patting me sympathetically. I look at my own bare nails, cracked from exposure to detergent and bleach or at my own uncombed hair and wonder if they're right: I need slaves.

Yes. Slaves. Say what you will but Filipinos still have that master-slave mentality. We never pay our help/assistants well enough for the work they do for us. And we never allow them to treat us as equals (be honest!). And that is just a step above slavery. That is why I refuse to have maids or hire an assistant. But these days, I'm really beginning to think I need one. Or two. I need help.

My idea of heaven now? At work, I can wear heels all day since I'm not running about doing my errands and picking up papers myself. I don't need to worry about heavy bags because someone's sent them to my house already. Then I come home to a clean house, the table set and hot home-cooked food waiting for me. I will eat it then stand up and not think about washing the dishes. Food magically appears at meal times. When I open my closet, freshly laundered and pressed clothes greet me. My shoes are always polished. The rabbits are always clean and fluffy. I can just focus on me and Vince and books and writing... It sounds lovely but I simply can't see myself bossing about another human being.

And this is why I can't imagine having children! I just can't handle anymore on my plate!

Oh, maybe I just need a day at the spa and the salon. I'll feel better after a good massage, a foot scrub, a mani and pedi, a scalp massage, a facial and hot ginger tea... Mmmm.