After a sumptuous dinner (Kim, it was sumptuous, right?) at Shakey's, Kim and I went to Malate last Saturday night. He was wearing decent clothes while I was struggling to retain confidence with my pambahay outfit - baggy pants and a shirt that looked like as if it had been worn by my mother during her bagets years. Well, the icing on top of the cake were my slippers that are a bit oversized for my feet. Well, that's one weird thing about me. I like my footwears a bit oversized for my feet. But wait, let's not talk about my weirdness for now because I intend to keep this entry short.
So, there, I was wearing a horrendous outfit while walking under a dark sky. It showered us with tiny bits of raindrops that I believe Kim didn't really enjoy for he was always looking for shelter. I hate rain, too, but that particular night, I wanted to be at the center of the crowded street. A crazy thought. If I do that, will the jeepney driver allow an all soaked-up, deranged-looking woman, to hop in his ride? And, of course, how can Kim possibly handle all those strange stares? Those were the thoughts playing inside my head while I was outside Starbucks, waiting for Kim to finish answering a "call".
I found one more hindrance to my plan of getting everybody's attention. Cars. The streets are teeming with cars. My attention shifted from cars to a woman who was wearing dirty clothes, peering through the clear glass walls of Starbucks. I was about to turn my back from my crazy thoughts when a group of people passed by. The girls look like models, runway models, that is. They were wearing make-up and skimpy,trendy clothes (I think everything skimpy now are considered trendy), like the ones seen on TV. They look just the same and they even move in similar, orchestrated ways. My mind whispered something to my other self, "With people like that here, how can I make people believe that I am the one who's crazy?"
No comments:
Post a Comment