–A Weekly Chronicle Series
For times I could not remember she would always blather “having that thing done on your face would really make your features more aesthetically radiating”. That on her nonchalant tone rather mouthing “socially beautiful”. Irksome, it has become.
All hail for a very supportive gene donor and for her brutal honesty. Had it not been for her lesser-than-outstanding and slightly flawed genomic dominance, I could have morphed into one with ethereal physique. I am just a mere defenseless recipient of their genes, of her and of my father. Right?! What the heck! If I were to choose, DNA segments from the equally gorgeous and smart Natalie Portman combined to that of the Legendary Jackie Chan’s would be matchless! Magnifique! Why not? Well as it says, we can’t choose our parents.
Plus, she isn’t a racist. Just a self-declared genetic theory or her own version of eugenics gave her this —- There is a 99 % probability of resulting to desirable and lovely offspring when a Filipino genetic composition is mixed with either British, Spanish, American, Mexican, Brazilian, Estonian or whatsoever western/exotic ethnicity she could name. To improve my race, that I must share male chromosomes from either of those mentioned. She could be right. I can distinguish numerous mixed bloodied Filipinos flaunting on huge billboard ads, winning reality talent shows or getting a public acclaim from football. Earning a spotlight to fame, even. Those are living testimonies to support her theory. Mother knows best; cliché but true.
“But why didn’t you do it yourself years ago when you had your youth and the choice to marry whoever you want? Why budge such crazy frustrations to me?” I would snap. Filial obedience is never outdated but these days, “ living solo” is the trend for some beleaguered twenty-something females like me ( or is it just me?). You sure know better Mom but sorry for draining your blue-eyed mestiza grandchildren fantasies! Getting married is not on my polished bucket-list. Having a baby is not even close.
Later on though, no matter how utterly comfortable I am with my own attributes, I concurred to her notion. I couldn’t help it. Physical enhancement isn’t all that bad, could be feasible. Only if she would stop nudging it to my face every freaking time and would just give me the money to achieve her perceived perimeter of beauty. Totally awesome!
Now how about getting that elusive Korean visa and booking the fastest flight there? Korean culture values greatly the physical appearance. For them, cosmetic surgery is a basic commodity, like shopping. Choices are endless, overheard.
In a sense, I love my Mother for her overstated; sometimes I think “ridiculous” ideas. Thank you for my witty, self-deprecating humor (did I also get this from her?), it still tethers my self esteem to my brain, preventing an impending bouts of self-pity or worst self-loathe. Thank you for my endless affair with writing, this post is not as rubbish as I’ve originally expected ,or so I thought. And thank you for my scanty creative juices, it has always been helpful. Now let’s draw a perfect aquiline nose my mother has been stressing about.