On Having Dark Armpits and Embracing It

My armpits, although not perfect, is something I was not insecure about. I used to have fair armpits. It was not exactly flawless but it was enough for me to raise my arms confidently, until this pregnancy. I knew this is normal.

But I also knew that having dark, unsightly underarms is always unwelcomed, heavily criticized and, who knows, is close to becoming a taboo.

When I took this selfie, I realized how bad my armpits have become (I swear these look worse up close). I was about to delete this and give myself another round of self-disgust when the little one gave me the strongest kick I have ever felt. I was reminded that this is happening because I am carrying a life inside me. But more than that, I was reminded that I am human. Never perfect and always flawed.

Hello Papa P!

I thought that my blogger duties were put on halt (if it is still not obvious, I haven't been Instagramming and blogging as regularly as I would have). For the past few days, all I did was literally eat and sleep the whole day, and Google about these aBsOLutEly HeLPfuL tHinGs iN LiFe like duck cannibalism, snake poop, and galloping crocodiles in between.

I have been declining design job opportunities and writing gigs because this pregnancy is getting more and more difficult I am simply lazy. But I wouldn't say I am lazy all the time. I make myself useful by giving the husband a pat on the back for being the hardworking man that he is because he needs more motivation to work harder now that I don't have job (and I got items on my cart waiting to be checked out). Haha. But I guess, it's also worth mentioning that I am not the whiny and demanding pregnant wife every husband is terrified about. Or to put it simply, I try not to be a burden to him even though this has got to be my life right now:

Life Lately Vol. 7

If it wasn't for the blog contest entry that I posted a few days ago, you all would have assumed that I have been zapped into Uranus and never return. Well, to those who love hate-reading me, sucks to be you, I am still here!

I kid about the haters, of course. I don't remember offending anyone or at least, not in their face. But there's probably someone out there who's willing to make a pact with the devil in hopes of seeing me lose the blog contest just so I have something to be miserable about.

Well, there's no need for that, buddy. I have already read almost all the entries and most of them are coming from professional and trained writers who showed me how inferior my writing skills are. I wouldn't even think I'd make it to the top ten. And also, my job application at Automattic was, unsurprisingly, unsuccessful.

What Is More Contagious Than the Virus?

Following our marriage last year, we have fervently prayed for a baby because, I hate to admit it, we are already in our mid-30s. We cannot deny the fact that our bio clocks are ticking. Jan and I have always wanted our own. The sooner, the better. And it was December last year when our prayers were answered. I knew 2020 is going to be our year.

Took this shot a few weeks before the COVID-19 outbreak.

Fast forward to 4,357 days (or at least, that's how it feels), the world has turned into something I thought I would only see in movies where we deal with constant anxiety and fear. How is it different for me? Everything is magnified a thousand times because I am carrying a precious life inside me. Apparently, 2020 is not a good time to be pregnant.

I'm Going to Play. Don't Talk to Me Ever Again.

Just when I thought I'm already done with video games, I find myself attacked by this:

Yes, I have fallen back into that sinkhole.