beauty in the eye of the drunken beholder

i have a longstanding love-hate relationship with beauty. mostly because i grew up feeling like i got the short end of the stick in the looks department. at the risk of feeding my self-absorption, i've written about it a few times to get some of my demons out. this will be one of those times. i promise to make it short and non-pathetic.

my london-based (or who the hell knows where she will be by the time i publish this) friend ana always tells me i'm in the wrong country. maybe i am. more than once, friends (hmm) have advised me to move abroad where people would probably 'love my skin color' or my 'general look'. does that mean i look like a slug in my own country? maybe. unless of course the foreigners come over to appreciate me.

last month, in boracay, i met a very friendly and interesting canadian couple. of course most people are 'friendly and interesting' after half a day of drinking. i liked talking to the girlfriend, in particular, because she kept saying that she 'couldn't understand why all filipinas were stunning.' to this i replied, 'it's only because you're used to seeing people who look like you. here, people who look like you are considered the prettiest.'

she couldn't understand what i was saying (i blame the alcohol) and insisted (with a drunken slur) for maybe a dozen more times. every now and then, i wanted to explain the social aspect of beauty and the effect of media on our perception ... but the truth is i didn't really want her to stop. she said i was 'stunning'! about 3 or more times! it was like being in a fun parallel universe where being white and having a high-bridged nose were liabilities. plus she let me taste her jager bomb. like i said, it was a really FUN parallel universe.