Last Tuesday I was quiet on my workstation with one cocked earphone listening to internet radio. Worlds away I was summoned by my boss, thinking it would be another one of those "approach the bench" days when he is clueless about what I have been doing.

Or so I thought. They're considering me for the Mr. (insert my company's name here) contest this coming Saturday.

I instantly declined. I blushed. I was smiling.

Damn, it was on short notice.

Enter dream sequence.
Rampa. Approach the mike.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Sky and I represent the department of..."
Full, manly voice:
"Innovation Department!"
Patay na.

Deep inside, I was screaming. Ang pogi ko, leche. Humaba ang hair kong kulot. Why, of all people, me, to represent the support group in a contest that spans two cities and one municipality? One of the contestants is an expat fashionista manager, and we have Makati-based entrants too, so I think I've leveled up to the standards. But with a childhood that taught my fairer and matangos cousins are more superior and would someday inherit the earth, why should I care joining?

Why select me? Was it because of my taste in clothes, or the pheromone I gunk as I go to my workstation? The heads that turn as I romp in the canteen then fall face flat? My figure is in a bad situation after stopping gym when I entered (insert my company's name here) and I know I won't make the grade should it call for taking tops off. Talent? Dancing, singing, declamation. Ugh. Would writing an essay on the spot qualify? How about exhibiting my photographic works during my turn? It's a talent too right?

I really don't know what's the purpose of beauty contests in today's age of enlightenment. Sure, beautiful people have sprouted more today due to advancements in science, the influx of half-breeds and the proliferation of vanity centers, but I wouldn't want to be pitted next to another being and be compared on stats and a false answer alone.

Sure I want to be looked at and ogled. Who wouldn't? We need signs of approval all the time. But to be compared, no. No. I'm at peace with myself and others who are much better or worse than myself. Pass on a copy of the Desiderata please. I don't need a pageant to stress that.

A walk on the fashion runway would do. Eep.

This entry was posted by sky, on Friday, May 27, 2005. You can leave your response.