I'm afraid I've grown addicted to her presence.

How I long to indulge myself in her touch that I grow drunk with just a whiff of her scent like a mad man.  

Dreaming, contemplating, making imagery in my mind liking to that of a movie pleasing as beer to Filipino men.

I see her as I climb mountains, as I swim through the seas of the Philippine coast on my own.  

Finding you at the tip of my pen as I slowly write down what both the heart and mind tell my soul

When have I started seeing myself as insignificant?

Was it in 7th grade when I started to notice
How the world paraded a perfect image of
What a body should be?

Magazines, bulletins, billboards, media: images
Of how women should have the deep oceans in their eyes
or they'd be worth less than a pebble.
Of how their ******* should resemble the precious pearls of God
or they're not worth a single glance.
Of how their lips and skins have to be free from scratches, dents, and scars
as if they were Christmas poultry.

When have little girls started avoiding supper and saving cents for plastic surgery?

Was it in 9th Grade during health class
When Mr. Smith babbled about how thin
Was the only desirable body type and
If you were any other you're unwanted?

Text books and ideals screaming
About thigh gaps with curvy bottoms,
Delicate fingers and thin arms
And how little girls shouldn't have a visible stomach.

Did they hear about little Mary's sobs in the night
Because no matter how much she pressed down
On her tiny uvula, her food wouldn't magically disappear?

When have mothers started caring more about their belly pouch than how their babies are crying every 6 seconds?

Was it in college when I had to attend a seminar
About how the perfect body has zero fat composition and if you did, you're probably lazy and incompetent.
Mothers and fathers whispering to each other
About how my mother wasn't skinny enough
And how her face wasn't caked with make up

Little do they know, my mother worked 24/7,
As a manager and a single mother of 4,.
She barely had time for looks..

Now here I stand in front of what I've feared for years since I was 13..
And I see.. I'm not so bad after all.

I've started loving the way my messy black hair barely reaches the plains of my shoulders,
I've started loving the humanity in my charcoal black eyes despite how empty they'd seem,
I've started loving the splashes of pink and red on my plump body as if they were constellations.

I've realized that my sarcasm and silly personality is not measured by the numbers,
That my motherly nature doesn't have anything to do with how I'm not curvy enough,
That people care about the ways my eyes shine more than they ever will about how my gut is showing.

More importantly.. I've started loving people more now that I do love myself.