Goddess, I Am.

My full first name is Faye Iris. Attach my middle and last names to that, and I have pretty impressive name – if I do say so myself. I grew up with people telling me every so often how unique my name is and how cute it is and how they’re going to name their children after me, yada yada.

Even the NBI (the Philippine version of the FBI) seemed to agree. Every time I paid them a visit to get my yearly NBI clearance, I smugly breeze through the whole process without fear that a spurious namesake will come up with some obscure criminal record to haunt me, as they do other folks with more garden-variety names.

Naturally, I reveled in my imagined uniqueness. Okay, that’s an understatement. Admittedly, I’ve always been kind of smug about my name. The point is I felt special and oh-so thankful that I wasn’t named something silly like Luzviminda, or even something ridiculously corny like Sheila. I like being Faye Iris, and I like to think that I’m the only Faye Iris in the entire Philippine archipelago, if not, the world.

Imagine my chagrin when a “Faye Irish” surfaced on my Facebook’s People You May Know section. I don’t know what shocked me more – that there’s someone named Faye Irish (I hate it when people mistakenly call me “Irish”, by the way, which seems to be quite often for some reason), or that I’m supposed to possibly know her. I did consider the possibility that someone did name their child after moi, but upon closer inspection, Faye Irish is actually right about my age. Not only that, she’s working in the same company that I used to work for AND is friends with some of my friends.

This development prompted me to Google my first name. Apart from at least two other Faye Irishes from Manila, there is at least one other Faye Iris (also from Manila) and an Iris Faye in (shockingly) Cebu. To top it all off, it looks like I’m not the only Faye Iris who’s a writer because there’s an American Faye Iris who is a poet.

Needless to say, I got off my high horse faster than recoiling spring plungers. I think I’m starting to develop the beginnings of a self-esteem issue now.

If tiny, waif-like things like Chin and Kaith believe that they need to lose weight, I guess I really am in trouble. Even The Fiance has grudgingly admitted that I did gain a bit of weight, particularly around the midsection.

Although I’m a far cry from the current Jessica Simpson proportions and am very much within my healthy BMI (body mass index), I’m still very much alarmed. After all, I have a wedding to go to in a little over a month and a half – MINE, no less.

At this point, I am this close to getting all the diet pills I can get my hands on. I have, however, decided to go for the lesser evil that is calorie counting. I found a really cool site – FitDay.com – where I only had to record my current weight and my weight goal to get an accurate figure of how much calories I’m supposed to take in each day. What’s more, by simply choosing what I ate for the day from their list (or adding my own “custom” foods, like Presto Creams Peanut Butter Cookies), it automatically computes my calorie intake for the day.

So far, I haven’t stayed within my limits, but I am starting to determine which foods have the highest calorie count. I am now limited to half a cup of rice per day and can no longer eat fat. I can’t drink Coke anymore, nor can I have my daily intake of sweets. I suspect I’ll have to stick to this diet for a while, especially now that The Fiance has appointed himself as my very own personal Hitler. But hey, if I can look absolutely stunning on the big day AND if I can be the image model for the swimsuit line my sister is planning to bring out this summer, it’ll be well worth giving up Presto Creams for.

On a side note, isn’t it funny how a long time ago I would’ve given up my kidneys just to look like Jessica Simpson but now I’m doing everything I can not to? Weird.