Goddess, I Am.

Chin was asking me a couple of nights ago how I’m liking married life, and I must say, nearly two weeks of it have been, well, the same as it has always been.

Don’t get me wrong. I am enjoying being married. I find it oh-so thrilling to fill out forms with my married name and to tick off the ‘married’ boxes. I find myself saying ‘my husband’ every chance I get, usually followed by a fit of hysterical giggles. Most of all, I love it when he refers to me as his ‘wife’, again with even more giggles.

The thing is, though, we’ve been living together for nearly 15 months now, so, really, the home life is exactly the same as it was before. I still do the cooking, and he still does the cleaning (and the laundry). Sometimes I wonder if we’re missing something, perhaps that crucial ‘honeymoon phase’ everyone keeps raving about. But then, we’ve probably gone through the whole thing ages and ages ago, so I am not fussed.

What I am, though, is a woman obsessed about the future. I had my first HPV (anti-cervical cancer) shot a week ago because I didn’t want to make The Hub (giggle, giggle) a widower this early. I’m keeping a close eye on our savings, just to make sure that we have something put away for the rainy days and for our impending migration elsewhere. I think I’ll be looking at free insurance quotes next, or at least, health care plans.

In any case, I guess it’s a bit unrealistic to expect marriage – or any relationship, for that matter – to be fun and exciting all the time. In a perfect world, it will be, maybe, but not in this one.

One thing’s for sure, though: marriage is blissfully comfortable. I’ve had way, way, WAY too much fun and excitement throughout my entire single life, what with bad dates and even worse boyfriends – so much so that I’ve had friends telling me that it’s a shame I’m now married because they will miss living vicariously through my exploits.

Do I miss any of it? I can honestly say that I don’t and that I haven’t for a very, very LONG time. I welcome the predictability that married life is bringing on the table with a huge sigh of relief.

Thank heavens I married a ridiculously sexy man who never fails to make me laugh every day. Anyone less and I’ll probably be bored out of my eyeballs by now.

Goodness! I didn’t realize that I haven’t blogged for over a week. No, I haven’t dropped off the face of the earth, nor have I died of mesothelioma (okay, that’s not funny).

I do, however, have a shiny new wedding ring, a new last name, and a husband sexier than James freakin’ Bond. I also have work enough for 10 people that needed to be finished yesterday, so I’m spending what’s meant to be my honeymoon period working like a madwoman.

I promise I’ll blog about the wedding very, very soon. For now, I’ll leave you with the night’s pictures, taken by my uber fabulous cousin (who is technically my aunt), Khristine. Enjoy!

. . . I get married.

And it’s going to be beautiful.

“You are so skinny, I can almost see right through you.”

Happy words from a happy husband-to-be about my happy new figure. I still can’t get over it! I am so ecstatic that I am this close to writing my very own slimming pills review. Lucky for you, this girl is ridiculously sleepy, so I won’t be subjecting you, my esteemed readership, to such torture. Not tonight, anyway.

I will, however, say this: I suspect Pearl White also causes paranoia. I am deathly afraid of gaining weight again. In fact, I am constantly peering somewhat skeptically at my considerably deflated belly, wondering if I have somehow gained another inch or two for no reason other than breathing. I ate sinaguelas (with loads of salt, of course) a couple of days ago and felt so bloated after that I’ve sworn off the fruit – and salt – until further notice. I’m even taking more toilet breaks now because I drink so much water, and I’m deathly afraid of turning into a water balloon. Oh, and if I’m somehow unable to go, I go up and down the stairs at top speed, determined to burn off whatever I can.

Not only that, I am constantly finding ways to look in the mirror just to reassure myself that I haven’t gained 15 pounds in the last 10 minutes or so since I was there scrutinizing myself. And if that doesn’t work, I would either measure my waistline yet again, or – don’t laugh! – try on my new pair of skinny jeans to see if it still fits, or my old white shorts to see if it still doesn’t. How weird is that?

Strangely enough, I seem to be the only one exhibiting this rather unsettling behavior. What does that tell you? Wait, don’t say it because I already know. Can anyone say: loony?

Okay, I haven’t really been reading up on Thailand much, so I can’t say I’m updated with what’s going on thereabouts. Come to think of it, I barely know what’s happening in my own country, let alone elsewhere. But I digress.

It’s hard not to be the slightest bit curious, though, when the place I called home for nearly a year and half made the headlines yet again. From what I can surmise, the people in red are unhappy that the people in yellow got their way barely 4 (or so) months back, and have decided that two can play that game. After all, if the yellows can do it, why not they?

And so they will demonstrate and riot and maybe take over airports until they get their way. And when they do, it’ll be the yellows’ turn again. Hmmm . . . does anyone see a pattern here?

Ahhh . . . the Thais never learn, don’t they? But then, stupid is as stupid does – no surprise there. Yes, the rest of world can think that we (The Philippines) are pretty bad in the politics department, but, really, we’ve got nothing on Thailand. Enough said.

On a side note, I hope those tourists unfortunate enough to be there right now have travel insurance. Or, at least, cushy sleeping bags for those hostile airport takeovers that the Thais do best.