Thinner and taller
“Lance, you look emaciated.”
I was in the process of hurriedly putting on my belt (without it, my pants won’t fit), and my brother was watching me. “You really have to eat, Lance,” he said.
“But I do eat!”
“Let’s see what Tatay will say when he sees you.”
* * *
Agnes, a former Chem 16 classmate last sem, saw me and said, “Lance, ang payat mo na.”
“Talaga? Di naman ako mataba nung first sem, ah,” I said.
“Pumayat ka lang talaga.”
“Baka sa damit lang—on second thought, ginamit ko naman ‘to dati. Teka, tumangkad ba ako?”
“Teka—oo nga, Lance. Tumangkad ka.” I beamed like the sun when I heard her. I am growing taller.
So it should not surprise you, dear reader, that as I write this, I am discussing blood paths with Wegs and Juanchi while devouring Kenny Rogers muffins which Art, my other roommate, brought us from a family surprise party.
I need to get fat before my parents see me when they come here for my brother’s graduation in April, and I need all the grow-food I can consume while I’m still in this sacramental stage of life called adolescence. My goal: the six-foot mark.