JOPS
JOPS
“Ang taba mo” is often the first thing a Filipino would say to a friend or somebody they have not seen for a long while. This seemingly blunt observation reflects our cultural norms, where we value honesty and directness. I understand that this may not be the case in other cultures, and I respect that. We may not always consider the potential offense our words could cause. Still, our intentions are often rooted in care and concern.
There’s a positive side to these weight comments, too. If someone notices your weight gain and says it suits you, it’s a compliment. They’re genuinely happy for you, often expressing it with a warm hug. It’s not always about the weight but how it makes you look and feel.
So, how do you react to these weight comments? I’ve always admired your resilience, Jops. You’ve shown you can take it in stride or ignore it without affecting your self-worth. I remember a friend who didn’t take kindly to a weight-related comment. He retorted, “kasi may pera akong pambili ng pagkain, di tulad mo: “Unlike you, I have money to buy food.” His response left the other person speechless, unsure of what just happened.
Jops, we’ve known each other since you joined the UN, and that was many years ago when men and women turned their heads when you walked the UN corridors or entered the UN cafeteria. You walked graciously, tall, head tilted, so confident of yourself. Why not? You were so lean, oozing with sex appeal, especially in your stretch jeans or the once fashion-craze of your time–the leggings. Believe me, you gave justice to that women’s wear. Not everyone could. The men admiring you; they were obsessed, you cannot deny, not by your stretch jeans; we know better than that. And the women? Oh, you do not want to know what they were thinking. Let’s say they were jealous of what they saw or intimidated. Or, like the men, coveting you as well, who knows?
So, Jops, you won’t hear me say it, at least not on your face. I could show my concern about your health when it was just us. I want to say that for me, you will forever be that Laura I knew way back then. Beautiful in and out, gracious as always, that lady who is always poised and composed in every situation. Do you remember when you, Lina, and I had lunch in the city, and then it rained on our way back to the tram station? Because we had no umbrella, Lina and I ran like crazy. I turned my head to check on how you were doing. I was amazed to see you taking the rain in stride; you walked like you did not mind getting wet. Poised as always in adversity, like when it rains. Literally and figuratively. You said, “What is the use of running when I am already wet? What if it missed my steps while running? ” That’s logic. Very you. Those were the days, weren’t they? The laughter, the shared stories, the rain. They will always be a part of us, cherished and warm in our memories.
Happy Birthday, my dear. You will remain my friend, warts and all, thin or heavy. Have a good time. And enjoy retirement. And as every retiree says, there is life after Commissary. Remember, I cherish our friendship and always accept you as you are.