The one where Mikey freaked Mommy and Daddy out

We were a little shaken up over the weekend. Mikey suddenly woke up at 4am last Sunday, wailing and shouting, tears streaming down his cheeks endlessly. Glenn tried to comfort him while I hurried to give him a bottle.

He pushed the bottle away and kept screaming. If you heard him cry, you'd really pity him. Something was definitely causing him pain. We carried him, distracted him, rubbed his back, sang to him, danced him around. Nothing worked. Then, his temperature changed. He became warmer and warmer by the minute. It was our first time to experience together Mikey getting sick.

I tried to use a cold and wet hand towel on him. Glenn went out to buy Koolfever. The whole time he was away. Mikey kept shouting for his Da-dee. He's quite the Daddy's boy, you know. I was relieved when he was finally back. He wasn't able to find Koolfever, though. The drugstores that were open had no Koolfever. We were stuck with the towel and Mikey's fever medicine.

After an hour of panic and a little prayer in my heart, Mikey started to babble. His temperature was dropping. He started to play on the bed again. He was slowly but surely becoming okay. All throughout Sunday, Mikey was feeling better. By noon, his fever was completely gone.

Now, Mom and Dad -- they're a completely different story. Let's just say we almost shit in our pants.


The one where I rant about my body and this town

Having lived in my husband's hometown for almost a year now, I sure have started to like a few things around here already. Like experiencing no traffic, every store, clinic and grocery is so near the house, the unpolluted atmosphere among other things.

But what I really absolutely hate about this town is how people feel free to criticize you and your body to your face. They do it with gusto that they don't feel they're criticizing you at all. Yeah, my husband will say that they don't mean bad. He is from here after all so he totally understands them.

But me... count me out. Never will I consider "you're fat" or "you haven't lost weight yet" an ordinary comment, much less an acceptable one.

Countless times have I heard from my husband's relatives, acquaintances and people I don't know that I am fat. I am fat. I am fat. I am fat.

For those who are carrying extra weight and loving it, forgive me. I respect who you are and your views. I totally understand. But as for me and my body, we totally reject vehemently any comment about me being fat. I have heard it too many times already and, my friends, it stings.

It stings so much that I dread reunions and gatherings of my husband's clan. Yes, clan...'cause they're so many they can easily populate the world. Don't get me wrong, they're very nice people. They are sweet, friendly and very interesting. But the minute they start telling me that I'm fat....uhm, where's the door? Can I go home now?

What's worse is that I also get the same comments from acquaintances (read: talked to them once or twice) and people I don't know (read: first time I ever saw them). Uhm, are we close friends?

Is it my fault that my husband's aunts and female cousins are slender, even sexy? Is it my fault that I don't have their genes or their body type? I mean I don't look anorexic after giving birth...is that so bad? Is it my fault that I live in a town, in a culture where national beauty queens hail from? What is this? Hollywood? This is a freaking small town. Why are they so hard on women like me?

Gad...I lived in the city all my life and not once was I offended about a 'fat' comment. People in the city seem so so nice all of a sudden. They are much better in that department. They are much better in keeping their mouth shut when they don't have anything nice to say. They steer clear of conversations about a woman's age, weight or built.

'Cause don't you think I already know that I'm fat? Actually, let me correct that. I am not fat. I just have a belly I need to get rid of. I just had a baby 9 months ago. If that is too long for you...it isn't for me. I had a C-section and was, therefore, not allowed to resume working out right away. But now, I work my butt off every single day and have cut down on my intake significantly. As a result, I have lost weight already. And I, I just have to say this, don't have flabs in my arms. I don't have 'wings' -- something some thin women unfortunately have and something I am most definitely thanking God for.

Please please please...I don't like me ranting. I prefer happy thoughts. And for that to happen, look me in the eye when you talk to me. Don't stare at my tummy. It is not that big to be an entirely different person. I have it under control.