Saturday, May 31, 2008

Every Woman and Mr. Big

A Donald Trump who only looked better.

I remember that this was how Samantha referred to Mr. Big back in Season 1--before Carrie's neverending on-and-off relationship with him started.

Oh I love Mr. Big. His larger than life character in Sex and the City is actually one which I can so relate some historic boylettes to. I love him in spite of all the Carrie love affair drama because somehow I find myself in the same pair of shoes that Carrie was in. (Let it be MANOLOS. Please!)

Last night, a friend was so full of similes in her SMS - her beau and Mr. Big being the two subjects of comparison. Months ago, another girl friend was doing the same thing.

And so it hit me: I am not alone. Mr. Big is someone every woman share.

The character of Mr. Big was created as an embodiment of a cosmopolitan woman's dream bachelor. Tall, good-looking, successful and rich - don't we all have thought of ourselves ending up with someone who meets the criteria. (Well, unless you're into short, ugly and miserable.) Look at how they kept him as Mr. Big and never revealed what his real name is. It was for us to keep a connection with him. Yet, when his name was later revealed in the movie, this connection seems to have lost. Mr. Big became Mr. Preston who gives Carrie a happily ever after ending - something which we all just are not sure to have.

But Mr. Big is every woman's Mr. Big not because of his fantastical stature. Women of 20s and 30s all over can connect to him simply because he represents that one special man who's came in and gone out of our lives for reasons we never know. He's the guy who seems to have loved us - shown it in ways not known in the books we read as little girls - but had a hard time (if not never) verbally expressing it. Every woman knows that he feels something for them but for some vague, incomprehensible reason, he cannot commit.

Yes, we felt like an ultimate priestess in high heels and tutu-like skirts (imagine the classic Carrie Bradshaw look) when he did all those lovely things to us. But after his disappearing act, we feel so reduced to nothing but well, a hot potato.

So after so many nights of partying hard with our girl friends, going home wasted and drunkdialling Mr. Big (not to mention the number of Kleenex boxes we consumed, the packs of cigarettes we shamlessly smoked, the number of times we sang Carly Simon's Nobody Does It Better while lying down drunk on our bedroom floor and the moments that we secretly felt like Bridget Jones), we realize that it's time for you to move on.

We meet someone like Adan. We think he's not as big as Mr. Big but we realize that he's actually the one who's good for us. We're contented and everyone knows we're happy. Then all of a sudden, coming from what-sort-of-void there is in our little worlds, our Mr. Big makes a re-appearance.

How many times have women been haunted by their past? How many times have we moved on only to find ourselves faced with our past once again? So that if we have made 15 slow and painful steps away from the past, we find ourselves quickly sliding 20 steps back.

Imagine going through this for so many times. Good god. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the rollercoaster ride of your dreams!

One unforgettable SATC episode was when Carrie told Mr. Big that he makes the worst timing whenever he comes back to her life. He reappears everytime Carrie is already happy and in a sense, ruins everything that she has worked hard for. (In this case, I think the void must've been our very own contentment... hmm?)

That Carrie moment struck a chord in me and I guess among countless other women too. It happened more than once, you know.

When Carrie finally made the big move to Paris with the older artiste, Aleksandr Petrovsky, I was happy for her but at the back of my head, I could not resist having my own what-ifs for her. Petrovky sounded like a Harlequin dream guy. He's the guy who seems to be the redeemer of fallen women.

It was a good thing that the movie ended with Mr. Big reappearing just when Carrie needed him the most. It was perfect timing for a perfect ending.

Now, won't you tell me who your Mr. Big is?

Author's Note: The article was revised from its originial write-up posted last year at one of her many, many blogs.

Monday, May 19, 2008

Why I Love Shoes... Over Men

Let me tell you why...

One womanly wisdom famously passed on from mothers to daughters is to never step on a man's pride. Ever.

To make it easy to remember, just think: Step on a man's pride and you'll get dumped like a pauper. Step on a fab pair of stilettos and you feel like a queen.

So won't it be a smart decision to have a pair of shoes you can always step on rather than a man thou shalt never challenge?

Another reason why I prefer shoes over men is that you can bring them along with you everywhere--from shopping trips to a girl's night out, and they won't ever complain. Though your feet will, at least, at the end of the day, you know that you only need a foot therapy for sacrificing comfort over style.

Unlike with men, it's always okay to lend a pair of shoes to a girl friend. There will be no jealousy involved and in fact, the owner can always give sincere tips on how to get sexy with them.

Shoes are also low maintenance. Except for a few minor repairs (and bet, you wouldn't mind your shoes getting a quick fix wit Mr. Quickie), it's also okay to leave a shoe alone and untouched in the closet. You can always be certain it's never gonna wander off with another owner. Sigh.

And most of all, you can keep tens, hundreds or even thousands of trophy shoes and NEVER be labeled promiscuous. But keeping two men around will certainly encourage chismis.

So can you blame me if I'd rather spend a Friday night shoe-hunting?

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Happy Mother's Day!

I consider every Mother's Day as a blessing. I thank God for another year spent with my mom and my daughter. I'm also very happy that so many people remembered to greet me.

Dad has to be away today and so we just celebrated yesterday. Nothing fancy. But it was good enough we celebrated in the company of each other. Below are some pictures:

Last year, I ended my Mother's Day post at my Multiply with Boyz II Men's Song for Mama. This year, I'll be ending my post here with this poem by William Ross Wallace.

The Hand that Rocks the Cradle is
the Hand that Rules the World

Blessings on the hand of women!
Angels guard its strength and grace,
In the palace, cottage, hovel,
Oh, no matter where the place;
Would that never storms assailed it,
Rainbows ever gently curled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Infancy's the tender fountain,
Power may with beauty flow,
Mother's first to guide the streamlets,
From them souls unresting grow--
Grow on for the good or evil,
Sunshine streamed or evil hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Woman, how divine your mission
Here upon our natal sod!
Keep, oh, keep the young heart open
Always to the breath of God!
All true trophies of the ages
Are from mother-love impearled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Blessings on the hand of women!
Fathers, sons, and daughters cry,
And the sacred song is mingled
With the worship in the sky--
Mingles where no tempest darkens,
Rainbows evermore are hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Being a mother is both a blessing and a responsibility.

Again, happy mother's day to all! :)

Monday, May 5, 2008

Good news to all Sex and the City girlfriends

It's official: there are no deaths in Sex and the City.

Proof? Click 'Sex and the City' director addresses death rumor .

I just hope it's true. And yay, I can't wait to watch it later this May with my beautiful girlfriends :)