An Act of Restoration

For I'm beginning to get tired hiding behind my own shadow.

And I'm getting weary thinking about if I would last a decade with the abuses I'm giving to my deteriorating body.

Lastly, I'm beginning to get tired ogling at some other buff bodies when I can develop my own.

I guess, it's time to claim my own place.

After all, whatever happens, It's my body and my health that mattered.

Act of Liberation, February 13, 2006
Fullmetal Dreams


--

By now, my average weight is pegged at 190 lbs. That is an excess of 35: an equivalent of half the total load that I used to lift for my Benchpresses when I was still in top shape. I would have lamented how the girth of my midsection has expanded, or how I get tired even without lifting an arm if it's not because of my own doing. Since December, I ceased going to Eclipse. My busy schedule won't allow me to travel from my place to the gym in Mabini or Shaw. I tried to compensate by enrolling at a nearby workout place and to be the Weatherman's coach, (he decided to enroll at the gym too to get himself bulkier) but I would usually go and burn the carbs when the significant other decides to join. With an unchecked food intake, an inconsistency of a slob, a metabolic rate that gets slower with age, and a complacency afforded by being domesticated, I have lost the edge. Like blogging, I engage myself in some physical activity from time to time just to remind myself that I am still into body building.

But it isn't working anymore.

I would have let things fall further into the curb and wait for a disaster to claim this corpulent frame. But with more and more of my clothes getting tighter by the week, and with the growing fear of some ancient maladies like diabetes and heart disease finally catching up, I decided to take matters into my own hands by squeezing a fitness activity to restore what was mine just last year.

I am perfectly aware that it will be a long shot, but if my most recent blood pressure check-up were any indication, I think the body has already tossed some beginner's luck for encouragement.

"Just 30 minutes of workout three times a week will do fine." My mother's doctor said. 

I used to spend 2 hours at the gym lifting heavy iron plates.

"Talaga doc?" I was brimming with excitement. There's hope after all.

"Oo naman, no need to punish your body." 

While I have already claimed my place and I am no longer attracted to men with muscular bodies, I think I owe myself a favor by just being healthy. There is no need to post my progress for other's validation.

A mere commitment will do.

With this in mind, I have resolved to put on my tattered running shoes and at least during the downtimes between my two jobs, hit the gym or jog at the Malacanang grounds if I were to preserve myself for at least another decade.

One way or another, I'll make a comeback. I have already lived the lifestyle.

Much Diminished

I used to write everyday on these pages.

---

The hanging herb garden outside my window used to be a source of pride and a reason to journey around the metropolis for Basil and Lavender saplings. I would then attempt to grow them despite the rampage of city birds.

---

I used to walk from home to my gym in Mabini, often, at dusk, when the sun was about to set. I used to have a time for contemplation as I gaze into the open sea: The days afforded me a moment to forge those unfulfilled dreams and cast away the regrets accumulated in years.

---

I used to brag to inferior men that I worked out three times a week.

But now, everything seems like a distant memory. Even putting into words the life I choose to lead is a struggle, a pain that keeps catching up whenever I am being reminded of the person I used to be.

Times have changed and in so many ways, so am I.

Bear

Previously: Unpretty

It was the succession of ulcer and flu that caused me to stop my workout routine. Sacred as it was, I even went to the gym at 2 in the morning just so my physical activity would not come in the way of work. That was before the malady struck. Last week, I had to stay away from doing any fitness activity while recovering from sickness. There was an undeniable strength loss after my return. Meanwhile, the mind felt uneasy without the pattern I have grown used to follow.

The gym has become the pillar from which my repetitive existence gets a break. It was a preoccupation that breath life unto me, especially after the weekend shifts forced me to become a social hermit. The colleague who I used to assign on Saturdays and Sundays resigned from work last summer. No longer I could call for a binge. Friends of the Casa went their separate ways. 

For a long time, the plateau was the reason I never lose weight. I would still remember someone from last year, a lover from a deleted timeline, telling me repeatedly that I am getting fat; while he became more frequent at the gym. To this day I keep in mind that it was the reason for our breakup. No longer was I fit like when we first met, he decided to make a run without ever saying a proper goodbye.  

The thought still makes my heart break.

From 180 lbs last Christmas, my weight has dropped to 166, the best accomplishment so far since I ended the Bunny Interludes last 2008. It was a combination of less rice intake and more jogging activity around the Malacanan that broke the hold of fat on my body. I would not deny the ease of moving around after my pants became looser. There is liberty in knowing a small-sized shirt could snugly fit on my frame.

I am publishing this piece as a throwback to once was a goal that seem impossible to keep. Even after the two-week absence at the gym, I only gained a pound or two when I last stepped foot on a metal scale. I checked my weight at the same time I resumed jogging and strength conditioning and little fat do I have to burn, unless the metabolism slows once again. 

When I look back, now that I have accomplished this kind of freedom, I realize that it was no longer the ex and the pain he caused that drove me to do this transformation. But instead, what started it all was a careless remark from someone, during our cuddle moment, telling what he felt as his arms wrapped around my shoulders.

"Para akong may kayakap na bear." He said affectionately. 

"Teddy bear..." I would keep in mind his description, so that if ever he finds me on top of him again, he'll have a leaner bear to cuddle.

And he did.

Bear or buff, it no longer matter. After all these modifications I did to myself, maybe it's time to say I already have the last laugh.  

Man In The Mirror

I was down with a flu since Tuesday.

My muscles ache and my skin singe with fever. I had runny nose in the morning and at night, chills wrap me to sleep. I was in for a bed rest - I had spent a day obeying my body's demands for sleep and more fluids. Come the next morning, I was up in bed and back to weight lifting. I even took pictures of sunset at the Manila Bay on my way to the gym.

Part of the reason for going out was to return the umbrella Giboy forgot to retrieve from my bag last Monday. He was in the city and since my shift ends in the afternoon, I decided to accompany him getting his driver's license at East Avenue. He reminded me of the umbrella last Wednesday morning, and knowing he spends his work outdoors, returning his possession was an urgent matter. I don't mind commuting all the way south to spare him the inconvenience. 

It was necessary.

The journey, however, had put so much strain that the flu made a nasty comeback upon reaching home. I had to take the blue pill before going to sleep hoping to wake up feeling better. The body responded well and I was out of the house to attend a meeting the next day. My presence was required at work. It was Thursday, the same day Papa Tagay was set for surgery. After seeing the boss and two of my colleagues, off I go to the Heart Center to visit my buddy.

I was told by Santi and Panda to go home and rest. They too showed up to express their support for our friend's medical procedure. They said, I was still recovering; that I should not force myself to act like I have no flu. I nodded at their suggestion. I even let Panda see me ride a jeep going home. But stubborn, the self is, an offer from someone to keep me company when I said I wanted to drink changed my direction. At half past seven, I was at the Mount Carmel church offering prayers. Not done with my request for divine intercession, I walked all the way from Aurora Boulevard to E. Rodriguez reciting the rosary. 

All the cabs passing in front of me were occupied.

Meeting the stranger, and having a drink at Quattro Bar took my mind off things. Yet, at the back of my head, I was very conscious that careless words may lead me into trouble. His questions were laced with curiosity. His fascination, evident in his bespectacled eyes. There was no doubt I had the advantage, but I refused to acknowledge his attraction. Strange as it sounds, but I too, lament that those days of sensible exchanges will not prosper. In real life, we simply differ. We paid the bill unsure how to spell the friendship I was willing to offer.

Awkwardness seem to shadow the message exchanges that came after.

And once more, the flu made a comeback.

Friday and I was back at work. Unwell, but my mind stayed bent performing like the malaise hasn't beset my body. I was able to wrap the day completing all the tasks at hand. I was even able to return to the gym, to work out like my chest wasn't even hurting because of cough.

"Such we are creatures of habit," I left on Twitter before resuming my work-out last Wednesday. "That we rather suffer the consequences of our actions than to break our routines." 

The same question was asked of me by my drinking buddy last Thursday.

"Don't you find routines boring?" He said before smoking his cigarette.

No longer I recall the answer, or how my excuse for living had put a smile on his face. But knowing my penchant for changing decisions at whim, and solitary movements, without considering the convenience of others, routines hold me in place when outward perception dissolves in chaotic mess. You may call it discipline, or other lofty expressions that say the same thing about commitment. 

But when I no longer see everyday patterns, and certainties in days ahead; when I feel constants being overwhelmed by changes, and that my place is befuddled by events not of my doing, the resolve to cling to time-bound habits I faithfully repeat with every cycle is a reflection of my inward response to situations. So it doesn't matter if I'm down with flu, or buried beneath piles of work, with approaching deadlines.

Routines must stay in place, only as to tell my feet the direction I'd be going.

Poverty of the Gut

III.

Spent the holidays food binging and gym procrastinating. Ergo, I gained mass. I feel it every time I slip in my skin-tight jeans, and wear my medium-sized tees. Family pictures taken showed a much wider girth. My face is puffy. My arms, sagging. 

I returned to Eclipse on the second to reboot my progress. Tough love as Coach Blakedaddy said. It will take some time to undo those nights of reckless drinking and gluttonous eating. And I am not done yet. Parties still line my social calendar. I am still itching to go clubbing. To counter the spooky signs of obesity, I started walking to work again. I've also been abstaining on sugar, leaving my sweet tooth craving for chocolate cookies.

It will be an uphill climb this time. Metabolism has slowed down, and the strength I once had - when I was 28 - is no more. But to stir life into a seasonal campaign; to remind myself that I am bringing back the old times, the presence of an oatmeal lunch box on my work station may induce a poverty of the gut.

A Familiar Sight

But it's an unmistakable reminder that I intend to hit my target no matter the sacrifice. 

Eclipse Gym 24/7

Shaw

It's my gym day but my mind tells me not to go. After all, today is my rest day too, the overcast sky might bring some rain and my pockets are getting shallower with each passing day.

Besides, my pecs, biceps and triceps are still recuperating from my last work out.

But when I think of myself five years ago, when beads of sweat dribbled down my face while Coach Blakedaddy tells me to repeat the exercise again after a wrong execution; when I showed up at 4 in the morning to do bench presses because sleep had evaded me; and when I remember all those times I groaned out of pain and intensity of the work out, and write "fail" on my program only to repeat the same exercise (with less pounds and reps) the next time I showed up,

You would realize that it's been a long, humbling journey and there is no turning back.

So today, I am set to return to the gym. And maybe get to nod at some of those nameless familiar faces, not to get their attention but to recognize that both of you have struggled - going three-times-a-week to do weightlifting inside the power cages; poring over the same exercise program the gym provides and updates - for free; and staying long enough to appreciate that the system really works.

But more than seeing other people, I will return - maybe today, or probably tomorrow in pursuit of perfection: To indulge this craving to lift those Olympic bars and heavy iron plates. For the work out and the gym has not only become a routine. After all these years of pumping, sweating and swinging - for an hour, twice or thrice a week, I have to say that the activity that keeps me fit and confident has now become my lifestyle.

  

For The Record

"Take him home...."

It was a bold call at O Bar, which I sincerely hope resulted in two less lonely men finding shelter and solace in the arms of one another, tonight.


Postscript:


Learned that my friend asked to be dropped home. Both men went their separate ways. (korny) Meanwhile, I was so drunk last night, threw up from 4 to 7 in the morning. Never felt the pangs of hangover, but I swear, I won't mix Jack Daniels, San Miguel Light and Tanduay Ice ever again.

Pump Without A Sound

A two-pound drop should never be a cause for celebration. A fact that should serve as a reminder for someone to be more realistic with his work-out goal. My biggest fault was not backing the campaign with a plan. On top of the shoddy execution, I was undisciplined, complacent, even less motivated as the final week approaches. 

I did not create a meal plan, like I used to a few years ago. Part of my diet consists of high-calorie, salty meals eaten in fast food restaurants. I am still fond of letting my bowl of rice and breaded chicken sink in thick layers of gravy. I still can't resist the smell of French Fries. It's crispy, starchy goodness leaves me spellbound and salivating.  

My gym routine was erratic. I would arrive in the morning one day, the next I'd be working out at past midnight. There was an unplanned, five day rest. A hiatus, which could have been prevented had I never felt lazy (and sleepy) at the sight of an angry sun. 

I didn't follow my program the way it was written, and didn't add exercises that could have aided in muscle growth. I quit easy when the weight of iron plates strained my muscles, and whined when doing the leg-torturing foam rollers as warm-ups.

The result was plateau. 

Summer's over and nothing was gained.

Or didn't you?

As far as I recall, a feared wardrobe overhaul never happened. As all your clothes, even the medium-sized ones could still dress your bulky frame. 

People stopped telling you that you got fat, perhaps because they have gotten used to your girth and expects that you would really grow - big, because of your slowing metabolism. 

And even though you didn't lean, deep down, you are still satisfied with the results: Broader chest, bigger arms, smaller tummy. Not bad, even when the physique remains "beach unready."

But since you didn't hit the goal; an accomplishment, that will never be yours. Consider this photo a consolation, Mugen.

You will not get the music player you've always wanted.

Drive

A cousin walks on stage to receive a gold medal. He is in elementary, and the school recognizes, not only his talent but also his hard work. It's no mean feat to keep your grades above ninety. While spending your free time honing other skills with extra-curricular activities. He must have been driven. His parent must have promised him a generous reward.

Year after year, his name would be called. And his proud mother would walk on stage along with him. He would receive the medal, and she - the future matriarch of the entire clan - would put it around his neck. I would watch the spectacle from my seat, together with another cousin who always join us. Our minds, heeding more to the demands of our tummy than the shimmering metal on my cousin's chest.

But the thunderous applause, and cheers from the audience as my cousin walks across the aisle would interrupt my survival instincts. At the back of my head, I would remember what my elders always say, 

"Why can't you be like him?"

"When will you change your ways?" 

As much as people hushed their voices, comparisons reach my ears.

I would remember his recognition day while trying to lift a 140 lbs barbell for my bench press. Not because of the occasion, but for the incentives my cousin gets for his academic performance. Toys, video game cartridges - everything he wants - he gets as long as he did well in school. At a young age, he learned that every hard work has a corresponding value. 

He began setting goals.

Goals. It's no secret that I have none. Three months have passed and not a single one went beyond the blueprint. I've lost too much drive that I'd prefer spending my rest days locked in my room - playing sims. I used to have plans. My head is full of ideas. But sad to say, I'm only good with concepts. They hardly ever work.

And so I remembered my cousin's recognition day and the Favorite Aunt's method of keeping him motivated. Rewards - gave him something to look forward and so year after year, he went home with medals to remind him of his destined path. 

They say its hard to teach an old dog new tricks. And while I don't see myself as an old dog yet, (I prefer to be a cat) I acknowledge this on-going flux that keeps me, well, in a state of disarray. Much as I would like to move mountains - and spark a revolution that would turn my life around, I can only make small changes, that hopefully, would encourage me accomplish more.

A beginner's pabaon perhaps - or maybe, a rewards system that would keep me driven.

"Coach, is it possible to lose 10 lbs in one month?" I asked Coach Leo.

"10 lbs kamo? Madali lang yun." My eyes glimmered with excitement. "Basta consistent ka lang."

I don't know if I could accomplish a goal. But just this once, only to show I can keep my words and deliver. 

I will hit 165 lbs, and get back in shape and when the weighting scale tells me I'm back to my ideal weight, I will reward myself with this:

Sixth Generation Nano

And replace my Sun Wukong avatar with a new picture of me.

Starstruck

I remember the first time I shook hands with Risa Hontiveros. It was at the wake of a fallen comrade. I was awed, swept off my feet, and my head was telling me to sign up as a volunteer for her next candidacy. Within my stoic frame is a fan giggling. Had my basic needs been assured, I would love to work for her, for free. Lol.

It would have been the same jittery reaction should I get to meet luminaries such as Randy David, Jim Paredes and Gang Badoy. I was wired to be a groupie - of the idealists and world changers. After all, politics, history and social sciences are some of my passions.

The lack of interest in local entertainment shows have shielded me from getting to know the celebrities as well. Unlike the rest of my family. My mom, who is a sociologist, would spend the rest of the evening watching the soap operas on the Kapamilya network. Lately, my sister, who is a psychology teacher seems to be following the trend.

My partner keeps tabs of the lives of celebrities as well. Without him to feed me the latest showbiz happenings, I'd remain ignorant as to why people are talking about a certain celebrity and why his or her name trends on Twitter.

I would have remained a hermit all my life without my source.

This mindset has spared me from going crazy whenever a hot celebrity goes to the gym. With Eclipse swinging its doors day and night, an actor who badly needs to maintain his six packs and lean body could just drop by after a long day's shoot.

In the final months of last year, several stars were spotted working out at the gym. Jake Cuenca was one of them, and so was Dennis Trillo. I was told that Papa Jack works out in Mabini, but who cares. All of us are there to lift iron plates and not talk of showbiz. Save for several tweets (and some not-so-secret glances) directed at these hunks, I'd go straight to my workout routine without making these celebrities feel stellar.

The workout, a few nights ago would have been the same as last time. I'd arrive at Eclipse close to midnight; engage in a small chat with Blakedaddy about the latest upheavals at the gym; get my progress folder; tenderize my muscles using the foam roller; do a kettlebell exercise before saying hello to the power cage and olympic bars waiting at the free-weights area.

However, I've noticed that I'm sharing the same schedule with a prominent actor from the Kapuso channel. Let's call him Daddy T, so as not to make it sound too obvious. He has a trainer, and unlike most of us, he has his own routine that is designed to maintain his lean built.

Daddy T, like most celebrities is aloof to other members. Maybe it's his nature. Perhaps, it is his way of avoiding attention. But it doesn't rub off on me, so there are times I'd tell myself, "he's not that popular" or "there are members out there who are more good-looking than him."

Talk about sourgraping.

To be honest, if he's not a celebrity, his looks would put him - merely in the "above average" scale of cute boys there.

But a star is a star and even though he loves playing heavy metal songs to put him in the groove, nobody dares to touch his iPod music player and replace it someone else's gadget. Even the coaches won't lower down the music player's volume or risk Daddy T's ire.

Thus, these past few nights, I had to make do with Rammstein and Pearl Jam instead of samples from the Ministry of Sound.

Like I said, it would have been a typical work out night - except that I decided to do cardio on the treadmill. To prolong my stamina, (and keep myself upbeat) I asked one of the coaches if the Ipod plugged to the gym speakers had some club sounds we could play.

"Ah wala. Hindi naman sa akin to eh," the gym instructor revealed.

"Kanino ba yan?" I asked, while trying not to appear surprised.

"Kay Daddy T. Naiwan niya kanina." He chuckled. "I-plug na lang natin yung player mo."

"Ay ganun ba." The gym instructor unplugged Daddy T's 120 GB Apple gadget and replaced it with my music player.

The gym instructor was about to keep the iPod for himself when I came up with a silly idea.

"Wait lang coach." I ran to the table where my bag was. Rummaging its contents, I got hold of my camera.

"Minsan lang ito. Kelangan ng souvenir!"

Ipod: Grasshopper

*click*

And with a press of a button, I realized that behind the indifference lies the truth. The luminaries I spoke about earlier can sit in their Ivory towers for all I care. When I could hold with my hand a showbiz actor's personal item and brag about it to world, the facade of snobbery collapses like a deck of cards accidentally nudged by the star.

Resulting in a moment of genuine and undeniable feeling of being starstruck.  

The Champ

To say that my fitness activity is faltering is an understatement. The truth is, I have lost much ground that people are starting to notice my expanding girth. The three-times-a-week work-out became two. In the last two weeks, the frequency of my presence - at Eclipse - has decreased to one.

I could raise a howl as to why the whimsy behavior is getting more obvious. It's the season to be glutton and everyone's busy preparing their tummies for the holiday feasts. The constant thighs-and-back pain would drive me to the comforts of my own mattress. And the dreaded metabolism has slowed to a standstill, even when I starve myself the way skinny stiletto-wearing models do, I gain more pounds than shed weight.

It would have been much, much easier to give up the gym. After all, it's over - the body is bloating unopposed. Who am I to turn against my genes when I am bound to become obese one day. In his thirties, my dad had the tummy of a pregnant lady. His arms and thighs were as big as logs and his big-nippled man-boobs sagged like a hundred babies suckled milk from his soft bosom. 

But as far as my memory whispers, he didn't easily give up the fight. He might have been chubby to a fault, but he did his best to turn against the tide.

There were mornings when my dad would tell me to stay beside him so he could teach me how to use the dumb bells properly. He had just bought second-hand gym equipment and converted a room in our house into his personal gym.

Being a kid who loves to play with his sister's dolls my video games, the side trip proved to be a well-spring of annoyance than a source of learning. Soon, I caved in. I still keep that notebook where he had written a basic exercise program I once capriciously followed to make it appear that I am one with his pursuit.

For two summers, we would go to the Army and Navy club at Luneta. He would swim all morning, while my eyes moved around to spot other swimmers whose physique I would love to have as my own. I would learn to float in waters beyond the reach of my toes, eventually. But other than that, what I remember were the men (in their fifties) who walked around naked in the dressing room and the smooth, toned body of a tsinoy classmate in swimming class who I would fantasize think about all day.

In the home front, dad used to brag to his friends how firm his biceps and legs were, when all I could see are chicken legs and loose skin. The wall separating his room from the maid's quarters were plastered with torn-up posters of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Frank Zane. He too bought those huge plastic containers of weight-gain formulas. Had he known they would make him bigger, he would think twice of buying those supplements in the first place.

It was a life-long struggle that took the drive away from my dad. And it was the same uphill battle, I am facing now that lead me to remember his pursuits and learn, that all along, he was passing his greatest aspirations.

So that I won't end up becoming like him.

So goes another year of seeing my progress record

The old man didn't live to see my project. He would never know how I could easily lift a 120lbs Barbell for Benchpress or do 230lbs for Deadlift. He would never feel how relatively "flat" my tummy is - despite the wicked love handles I keep on my sides - when his was already rounded and protruding when he was at my age. I hardly swim anymore, and have never learned the Butterfly. But anytime someone would ask, I can go underwater without the fear of drowning.

Dad missed a lot. Had he known that not a single grain of effort was lost when he taught me to do free weights, maybe, just maybe, he would have pushed himself a little harder and accomplish the goal I decided to finish myself. And instead of having those posters as inspiration, those fitness magazine to guide him to do impossible tasks and supplements to aid his muscle building, he would have a son to remind him - in the future - that all it takes to be a champ is to keep going, no matter whether its a losing battle in the end.

Smooth Sketch

"Julawww!! Julawww!!"

Mabilis kong tinawag si Smellycat na noon ay kasalukuyang patapos na sa pag-eempake ng gamit sa locker room.

"May papakita ako sa iyo sa Facebook, Daliii!!"  

Kaagad namang itinigil ng binata ang kanyang ginagawa at mabilis itong pumunta sa aking kinaroroonan. Sigurado kong may alam ito sa kung ano ang ipapakita ko.

"Alam mo feeling ko siya si 7incher_hunktop..."

"Weeeh? May girlfriend o, tingnan mo nga!" Matagal na rin kaming magkatropa sa gym kaya naman pati mga updates ko sa Twitter ay nakakaabot sa kanya.

"Hinala ko lang naman, pero kung siya nga yun..." Isang matamis na ngiti ang iniwan ko bago bumalik sa pagbubuhat.

Si Smellycat

Earlier that night ay may bago kaming ka-miyembro. Kaya naman abala si Coach Magnus sa pagtuturo ng proper form at execution ng benchpress, squats at dips sa boylet. Dahil na rin siguro sa pangangailang kumita ng extra ay pasimple itong nagpapa-impress sa bagong dating. Sa pagkakataong iyon ay ako ang kanyang nakitang panabla. 

"Mugs tingnan mo to." Lumapit naman ako sa computer station ng Eclipse. Doon kasi naka upload ang mga pictures.

"Student ko yan..." Paliwanag niya. "Hard workout ang binibigay ko sa kanya. Kaya naman after two months, yan na ang hitsura..." Pagmamalaki nito sa amin.

Infairness naman kay coach ay talagang nagkaroon ng result ang kanilang pagwowork-out. I-train mo ba naman hanggang mag-walk out ang mga taba, tapos mag-recommend ka pa ng diet, tingnan ko lang kung hindi maging balingkinitan ang katawan ng iyong alaga pagkaraan ng dalawang buwan.

At tunay na kahanga-hanga nga ang before and after pictures ng kanyang student. Kung dati rati ay may beer belly ito at sagging na dibdib, yung most recent picture niya ay zero body fat. May hitsura rin naman ang binata. Mestiso ito, twink na twink, at may hawig kay Coco Martin at Jake Cuenca sa unang tingin. Kamusta naman si Dennis Trillo na ka-gym mate ko na laging mukhang haggard kapag dumarating sa gabi?

"Ano oras ang work-out niyo coach?" 

"Mga madaling araw." Yung newbie naman na kanyang tinuturuan ay halos mag-pass out na matapos ang unang subok ng squats.

"Student pa?"  

"Oo sa La Salle nag-aaral." Biglang nagningning ang aking mga mata. Nagpatuloy ako sa pagtatanong.

"Mga ano oras siya dumarating?"

"Mga ganitong oras." Pasado hatinggabi na noon.

Sa sobrang excited ay dali-dali akong bumalik sa computer upang tingnan muli ang hitsura ng lalaki. At long last ay mukhang nag-pay off ang pag-iinarte ko sa pakikipagmeet-up kay 7incher_hunktop at sa halip ay siya mismo ang nagbigay ng detalye kung paano siya matatagpuan.

"so bro what's the plan of your mate? perhaps you could introduce me as a white la sallian guy. maybe you can introduce him to me since I am familiar with almost all of the people in the gym"

Isang recent private message yun sa akin. Inopen-up ko kasi ang idea na iba na lang ang ipapakilala kong gym buddy sa kanya.

"no. when is he usually go there? btw you can reach me at 09173X44X42. hope to meet you as well bro."

Hindi ako nag-iwan ng number. Sa halip, nilagay ko ang kanyang numero sa isang notepad para sakaling magtagpo kami ng isa pang ka-gym mate na umako sa aking dapat sanay pakikipagkita ay tuloy tuloy na ang kanilang pakikipag-usap.

Sa kasamaang palad ay yun na rin ang huling pagpapalitan namin ng private message ni 7incher_hunktop. Hindi na ito bumalik sa PEx, anumang pilit kong pag-angat sa work-out at fitness thread. At kung sakali man na tama ang aking hunch na si 7incher_hunktop at ang lalaking nasa FB ni coach ay iisa lang; Kung magtagumpay man ang stalking skills ko at mapatunayan na hindi sa lahat ng pagkakataon ay straight ang may girlfriend.

Tanging isang tao lang ang makakapagbigay liwanag sa tunay na pagkatao ng aking tinataguan hinahanap. Habang kami ni Smellycat at sampu sa aming mga kasama ay hanggang balita't sulyap na lang sa kung ano ang susunod na mga kabanata.

Ang binatang makakapag-confeeeerm nun ay walang iba kundi si Bentot 

Ang aking proxy.

7incher_hunkTop

"Hey, what time do you work out in Eclipse? I'm eyeing for a buddy, if you don't mind." 

It was a private message I received the other night. As part of the gym's aspiration to become more gay-friendly, I returned to Pinoyexchange AP Work Out Thread to help the forum posters there with their training concerns. My presence also aims to connect the gay people who are members of the gym.

Like the head coach, who is also the moderator of another forum, I try to project a stern, straight-as-a-ruler image. I engage only in no-nonesense talk. I urge people to work out, (better if its in our gym) and as far as I remember, I have never entertained the idea of meeting other people.

Not even when its about showing around the gym.  

So imagine how I was caught off-guard when a user named 7incher_hunkTop sent me the private message. I won't sugarcoat my thoughts and just like everyone else, I'd be curious as to what he looks like. The way he writes, he seem self-assured, masculine, and a no-nonesense talker too, and I know some gays would bitch slap each other just to switch places with me.

I was on the defense so I replied:

"Erratic schedule ko pre eh. What time do you work out, baka puwede kita i-reto sa kasabayan mo."

I was serious in finding him a gym partner. Maybe I could introduce him to Smellycat and his beefcake boyfriend who are more capable and knowledgeable with free-weights. Perhaps @ossiepeaker who is a hunk himself (based from his DP) could become my proxy. Being single, and having the same bed preference, their arrangement would be less awkward.

Anyone, actually, but not me.

I do not know where this aversion comes from. Surely its not about personal policies anymore, or the polarities we have. I do not know even if I am being threatened by mere assumptions, or am I reinforcing my walls because instincts tell to keep some distance from someone who blatantly advertises the length of his manhood.

There is no doubt he approached me in good faith. But I guess, the fault lies with me: I am still a long way to go before I could finally make peace with my past .

And even though I've learned that we share a common timeline, ignoring his invitation would be the best course of action:

"I go there midnights. What time do you usually hit Eclipse?" 

I know a couple of good-looking buff guys who work out at around midnight. Acknowledging my own frailty, I will keep struggling to hold back my expanding frame, and just sense the boy in the distance.

Crusade

This was Mugen.

Late 2009

With his work-out routine becoming very erratic, leaving him with extra fats and several pounds of  mass on his tummy, he will get back to his old form again.

Square One

My clothes are getting stuffy and so are my pants. It  is  becoming  more difficult to squeeze in  tight  places and the bulkiness of  this  frame makes me look  like a tub of lard. Though  I  am way past the demands of market forces, the expanding girth reanimates my old fears. I refuse to be what I was but  I don't know how to cease growing.

Bigger. 

I  have ran out of ideas to keep myself fit  and with  the unchecked appetite becoming a thorn in my side, I am on the verge of admitting that time has finally caught up. I may go on with my thrice-a-week gym visits, but with the bench press and dead lifts hardly making a dent on my thickening love handles, resistance is futile.

Slowing metabolism prevails.

Time will come that I may have to accept that I'm back to square one.

The Great Edsa Run

I  have always seen running as a rich-man's sports. It's because for the longest time, my savings could  not afford me a pair of running shoes.  So when those fun runs became a national craze, even the blogs could not arouse my interest.  I was already happy with my fitness program and the hefty fees (to join the fun runs) drove me back to the gym faster than I could say "takbo!"

The boss, who used to be my gym-mate found it more appealing to run around  his posh neighborhood in Greenhills than to lift weights at Eclipse. His pursuit was so infectious, Mami Athena began running on the treadmill a few weeks after recovering from her stroke. Off topic chat about their pastime used to be part of our weekly operations meeting.  It was only when the team leaders/spectators were all gone that they resolved to run together in a fun run.     



Talk of the event had already surfaced a few weeks before the actual activity. Being a sports buff myself, I was invited by the boss to join them.

"Tamang tama, para may kasama si Mami,"  he said.  

Meanwhile, with the Patroness already dazed, (out of excitement to test her mettle against other old runners)  a wordless nod and I was good to go.  With the boss paying for the registration, all I had to do was bring myself there.



Every massive undertaking requires planning and strategy, but instead of making preparations,  I let things run its own course.   I know myself as a long walker.  Once I covered  the city equivalent to the distance of Shaw Boulevard and Quezon Avenue after Coach Blakedaddy discouraged me from using the gym's treadmill.  Several years later, Makati would be my training ground. I shuttled between the Central Business District to the borders of Mandaluyong to get ready for my first run.

The night before the fun run was spent sleeping for two hours after my insomnia reared its ugly head. Carbo-loading was not practiced and had I not eaten a McDonald's Meal  ten minutes  before the firing of the starting gun, I would run on an empty stomach.  Poor coordination with my colleagues end up in  rushed last minute rituals.  With my running bib still unpinned and my backpack still cleaved behind my back, thoughts of joining the activity with literal excess baggage entered my head.

Then Mami Athena appeared with another colleague.  I was at the bags booth when I saw them leave their belongings.

Of  the hundreds who joined the fun run, we were among the last to cross the starting  line.  A short sprint up to the corner of Edsa and White Plains and Mami Athena was already catching her breath. Our other colleague dashed ahead.  We caught up with him as he walked past Robinson's Galleria, exhausted. 

An ill-conceived routing plan made us race next to moving cars and trucks in Ortigas. A group of big fat blondes walking along the sidewalk made fun of the runners. As they jeered and laugh, the tubs of lards received hostile stares and snubs from their leaner counterpart.

After we have crossed Meralco Avenue, the road went on a downward slope.  Even though we were walking at a much faster pace, our legs didn't feel sore.  We would pass by an old lady jogging alone. Assured that she would cross the finish line despite her pace, her stand would make her Mami Athena's running mate. 

The hilly terrain at the Temple Drive dragged most of the runners.  It was also here that I was able to use my reserves as Mami Athena pushed me to run while she slowed down to join the old lady we met earlier.  As I sprinted towards the final leg,  I felt my legs getting heavy.  The result of my lack of preparation was finally showing up.  Catching my breath, I was able to steal a glimpse of the ridge overlooking  Eastwood City.  With  the  morning sun bouncing its light off the office towers, the picturesque sight almost made me stop and forget about running.

Slowing down, a  lean broad-shouldered runner cut through my path. His presence made me remember why I sprinted in the first place.

Running are for those whose aim is to cut down on fats and be as lean as the  swimmers. The seasoned joggers, which  I  saw in Makati during my "training days" may not have the bulky frame I earned from weight lifting. 

But their aesthetics are more striking than those who consider themselves gym-dwellers like me.

More than the eye candies, which are everywhere, the event shattered my past beliefs about social marathons.  The pro-runners with their sleek thermal suits and bulky fuel belts maybe leading the pack, but behind them were hundreds of old and young people running and walking  to raise enough funds to build more classrooms across the country.



As  I entered  the final  leg of the course track, both the 5K and 10k runners converged.   With the boulevard clad in a sea of yellow shirts, its hard not to notice those who stood out  from the rest.   There was the Elvis Presley guy,  who sprinted past most of the participants.  His presence lifted people's spirits and urged them to catch up.  The Azkals were there too, according to people on Twitter.  Though I haven't seen them during the run, their presence assured a new wave of disciples watching their next match.



With  the finish line fast approaching,  I spent the last of my reserves running until I was able to keep up with the seasoned runners. I went past the colleague who left us again after slowing down in Galeria. The trance and house music on my iPod played an important role in keeping my adrenaline steady. Defying the onset of fatigue, I struggled to show everyone that even heavy weight lifters can sprint too.

Seeing the baggage booth made me stop running. Reclaiming my backpack, I  let other runners pass ignoring the time record I could set for my first 5K run. 

"There's another time to beat the record," I told myself earlier, while walking alongside the Patroness. "I'm here because..." Before I could finish my train of thoughts,  Mami Athena quickened her steps.

I waited, past the Elvis Presley Runner, past the kids who merrily went ahead, past the colleague who was able to limp towards the finish line,  until the two ladies appeared on the horizon,  happy that their long walk was about to end.

"Tara, lets cross together,"  I told Mami Athena.

And so an hour and 3 minutes after our journey began, our feet were able to leap past  the finish line. 

 

Later that evening, Mami Athena told me that her running mate thought I was her boy. 


"But he's so young and so muscular," the old lady said.


"And he's gay." Mami Athena quipped. 


"But you're so sweet together."  As far as I remember, I was just following my surrogate mother's pacing.


"Do gay people look like him these days?"  


"Yes, they frequent the gym nowadays."  


Their conversation was left unresolved.  The old lady remains a non-believer.

Two days later, I still limp when I do floor walk.    

Postwar

I remember how it was before.  The weights  I lift made me feel good.  In a perpetual state of war, I leveled the playing field by working on my body.  It has become an instrument of attraction in a world where acceptance depends on one's masculinity or even physical looks. It was difficult not to be corrupted by the trade. I  too was part of the system and in many times I lived with it, my humanity disappeared.

I remember the countless rejections and my desire to fight back. I tried befriending people, only to be denied when I fell below their aesthetic expectations. It took some time before I have accepted the terms of exchange. Outgrowing it,  I played the game and turned the tide against those who crossed the line.

Those who knew my dark past: the Malate Nights, the cynic searching in online dating sites, the almost longing desire for peace, tampered by the truth that it was hard to find a connection.  I have given up many times, and embraced my solitude as a testament of my freedom. In all those years I sailed the sea of emptiness, what made me tough was the fact that I'm market driven.  What I want - even temporarily - eventually belonged to me.

But in these days of peace, the principles of war lose its value.  First to go were the clubbing nights - the sole vice that reminds me of homosexuality. The dance floor was my arena - not for hook-ups but to see how much I fared in the game of tease. Close calls always happen, but at the end of the night, people go their separate ways.

The gym, which had served as my vanity temple for many years was slowly being disabled.   Without the need for valuation, seeking new pursuits became a possibility. In the stillness of my lover's arms, I contemplated about my final disarmament. After all, the body was my instrument of attraction, but there's no reason to show-off anymore.

So I  faded away quietly as my small clothes became tighter.  The threat of a wardrobe overhaul readied me for binge spending. At the gym, where heavy plated Olympic bars require five repetitions and fourteen sets of bench presses, the certain muscle pain turned me away before my first try.

But the partner supports the endeavor, even when he had to give up his own project.  Now that my new  work shift has changed my fitness routine, the partner waits at home even when I  had to extend past midnight just to keep my accomplishments.  At 174. I am overweight by ten pounds.  The gym instructors tell that it was muscles but the whiner in me could never be appeased.

Until last weekend, when Baabaa took my photo against a crepuscular backdrop.

broad shoulders, big arms, flat tummy, a vision of a thousand days still within reach

I always tell my other half  that I dedicate my work-outs for him.  Not to make him feel unease, but as a reinforcement that not only did he find a man with caliber.

I know, I have a very long way to go. Sometimes, I even think that I would never reach my goal in this  weight training project since there are times, I do not know what my objectives are anymore. Besides, whenever I think how long it would take and how many sacrifices I have to give just to turn myself around and become a 160 - pounder once again, the challenge I have to take simply demoralizes me. 

Bunny Interludes Two

Fullmetal Dreams

March 01, 2006

When  he accomplishes a goal he had set when he was still at war, that man he had found teetering on the brink of extinction will always be faithful, always be at one

with him.
 
  

Filler Two | KPR

Sa tinagal-tagal kong nagbubuhat ay ngayon lang ako na-tengga ng matagal. Two weeks! That's right, dalawang linggo! Nasira ng matinding karamdaman ang gym routine ko.

Actually, nakakaramdam na rin ako ng fatigue the last time I went to the gym. Siguro dahil masyadong strenuous ang program kaya hindi ko kinaya. Puwede rin na wala na akong motivation kasi... masarap kumain.

I know the consequences of stopping and its one of my fears right now. Ang hirap bumalik. Killer ang pag-establish ng habit.

I brought my gym clothes today. Full battle gear ang nasa loob ng bag ko. I said I would be returning by December 1. Kaso mo, nalaman ko kanina na November 30 pa lang pala.

I still have an hour to decide. Walking distance lang naman ang Eclipse from my workplace. Nagpaluto rin ako ng Tocilog for dinner just in case magutom ako. The drive isn't there anymore, but let's see.

For the meantime, gagawin ko munang inspiration yung picture na ninakaw ko sa G4M dati.

In memory of Cherokee (kung sino man siya)

But one thing is sure. I would prove to that loser who once flayed insults over a drinking session in Angeles City that my bulging tummy was hopeless and I'm grounded to become obese for life, that change is possible. In eight months I would make sure that I would have some major improvements on my body.




Act of Liberation
February 13, 2006
Fullmetal Dreams

I remember it was in Angeles City.  The Outsider (my other tropa) went to a watering hole inside a well-known subdivision.  We sat on a table and the group had their own business. I was musing over a half empty bottle of San Miguel when an acquaintance blurted out,

"Ay nako Joms, kahit anong gawin mo hindi ka na papayat!"  It was an off remark.  A comment I didn't expect since I was not talking to him.

"Talaga?  Sigurado ka sa sinabi mo?!?"

I was pissed off the rest of the night but I can't do nothing. I was a tub of lard weighting over 200 lbs. My ex even threatened to leave me should I not shape up.

My friends didn't notice the mood swing but I vowed to keep my word.

A flashback.  

Now I understand the reason why I kept the photo.

Alarma | The GreatKid Remix

Modified Escalating Density Training. (M-EDT) Tingin ko na yan ang binigay na program sa akin ni Coach Blakedaddy.

Ang goal ng workout ay makarami ng repetition sa tinakdang set of exercises na fitness trainer ang gumagawa. Sa kaso ko, nakasulat sa program na 5 reps ang kailangan mabuo sa bawat set.  Ang buong set na kailangan gawin sa isang exercise ay labing apat. Benchpress pa lang yan. Magaan man ang weights na kailangan kong buhatin, (100 lbs) pero tiyak na si superman lang ang hindi matatagtag pagkatapos ng work-out.

Ang resulta, katumbas ng kalahating rice cooker ang nauubos kong kanin pag-uwi ng bahay.  Hindi pa kasama ang ulam doon. Sabi nga sa akin na kasya daw sa tatlong dukha ang hapunan ko.  Naroon rin yung pakiramdam na parang tinadyakan ka ng sampung kabayo the following day. Lolz!

Rest assured na sana ang goal ko na maging KPR, (Miming alam mo ito!) Pero dahil nga sa ga-baboy kong kumain ay napupunta sa wala ang lahat ng pinaghirapan ko.  Madalas may butal pa.

Anyway, sinubukan kong magtimbang sa weighting scale kanina at laking gulat ko sa naging resulta.  Muntikan tuloy akong mapa-treadmill at mag-sprint ng sampung minuto.

"174?!?!" Hindi ko maitago ang pagkaalarma.

Sa sobrang panic ay dali-dali kong pinuntahan si Blakedaddy na nagsusuplado nang mga oras na iyon.

"Coach! Coach! Ninominate kitang moderator sa Pinoyexchange! Is it possible to get heavier because of muscle build-up?"  Tumingin muna ako sa paligid, baka naroon yung mga alaga nilang Bumbay na big bosses yata sa isang call center.

"Of course!" Mabilis ang kanyang tugon. Oha! Oha! Anlakas ko kay coach!

Kunsabagay, parang ang hirap nga kumilos lately. Para bang gawa sa bakal ang buong katawan ko. ^_^

What's more puzzling is that despite the weight gain, hindi pa naman ako nagfe-feeling suman sa mga Size-M na t-shirt ko. (Teka try ko ulit for verification... Aww kasya pa pero kelangan ko na mag-bra)  Okay pa rin yung mga jeans. (kahit halos magka-UTI na ako sa sikip) pero slight na taba pa at talagang magje-jersey na ako papasok sa work. Huhuhuhu.

I do not know what else to do.  The program could do wonders but it seems to be backfiring at me.  Pasira rin ang shift sa trabaho. Kasi naman Oatmeal lang ang Brunchienda (Breakfast-Lunch-Merienda) ko sabay lamon pagdating ng dinner.  Baguhin ko man ang eating habits pero masarap talaga magluto si Yaya.

So yun lang, nagrarant ako na parang ewan.    Let's see if I could turn around the situation bago ako magemo-emohan in two weeks.

Bye blog!

Pogi Spotting

"Julawww!! Julawww!! Julawww!!!"

Siyempre, kapag narinig na ng ka-gym mate kong si Smellycat ang kanyang pangalan ay hindi na ako nito papansinin. Masyado na daw siyang na-oout nang dahil sa akin.

Paano naman kasi ay biglang nagkaroon ng population explosion ng mga bading sa Shaw. Nagkataon naman na kakilala ko yung mga bagong member kaya pati si Julaw na walang malay ay nadadamay.

Pero nitong mga nakaraang buwan ay may bago kaming kinahiligan ng aking gym mate. Layuan man niya ako anytime pero sa oras na nagturo na ako ng mga cute sa gym, wala itong magagawa kung hindi makipag-compare notes sa akin.

"Cute yung nasa kaliwa mo o." Kunwari ay pabulong bulong pa ako't patingin-tingin sa kanyang program pero sa totoo ay nagspospot lang kami ng pogi.

"Uu!" Pangisi itong sasang-ayon sabay babalik kami sa kanya-kanyang buhat.



Si Julaw ang isa sa mga kauna-unahan kong ka-tag team sa mga forums. Kung ang spokesperson ng aming silid-buhatan sa Pinoyexchange ay ako, siya naman ang welcum committee sa Planet Romeo. Pati yata yung handle na gamit niya ay kapangalan rin ng gym. Adik rin ito sa pagbubuhat. (in fact, wala siyang gamit na gloves kapag nagfree-free weights samantalang ako ay nagmimittens pa. Lol) Mas bato-bato rin ang katawan nito at lately, yung mga barako sa gym na hindi ko ma-amoy ay tropa pala niya.

Sa tinagal-tagal naming magkakilala sa cyberspace, (yung best friend niya eh naka-date ko pa, yung bud ko naman ay naka-fling niya) ay lately lang kami nagkaroon ng introduction. Mahiyain kasi si binata. Dahil alam ni head coach na kami ang hakot ng mga aspiring gym-beckies sa PEx, kaya pinagtuunan rin ito ng karampatang pansin si Julaw.

Minsan mas advanced pa nga ang program niya sa akin.



"Huy, andiyan yung isang cute ah!" Bulong ko sa kanya kanina matapos ang isang set.

"Alin, yung naka-basketball shorts?" Mukhang meron pang na-spot na iba ang binata.

"Yata?" Sumilip ako sandali sa cardio area para ma-confirm na yung gwapo na tinutukoy namin ay iisa lang.

"Yup, andiyan rin yung isa ah!" Natiyempo na nagbubuhat rin pala si Angel Wings, yung isang gwaping na may pakpak na tattoo sa kanyang balikat.

"Dami nga cute ngayon eh!" Tama ka Julaw, pareho tayong mapapasabak sa buhatan.

Bilang isang certified kuneho, alam ko na by batches ang dagsa ng mga members sa gym. Tuwing alas-diyes ng umaga yung varsity team ng JRU at San Beda. Nagsabog nga ng hunk pero agawan naman ng gamit sa Power Cage. Tuwing alas-dos yung mga Iranians. Okay sa alright pero kapag nakasabay mo naman sa locker room ay ayaw mo na lumabas. (di ko sasabihin kung bakit. ne ne ne!)  Alas kwatro naman ng hapon ang dating nung mga bilugang Bumbay. Napabalita kamakailan na ginamit daw na hand wash yung malaking dispenser ng Colgate Plax sa sink. Kaya pala andaling naubos.

Alas siyete kadalasan nagpapakita yung mga ulam. Magsasawa ka talaga sa pandesal kasi naman kasabayan rin ng mga regulars yung mga kick boxers. Ito siguro ang dahilan kung bakit biglang nawala si Jake Kamatis sa gym. Nahuli siguro ng kanyang "misis" na nagsmi-smile sa mga chinito kaya pinatigil magbuhat lol. Panghuling grupo na dumarating ay yung mga Egoy. Saktong alas-onse ng gabi ang simula ng kanilang training at napapabalitang inaabot daw ito kinabukasan.



Madalas na sa hanay ng mga Bumbay ako napapasama. Pero dahil nahuhuli ako ng dating sa gym nitong mga nakaraan, sumasabay ako sa time-slot ng mga wafu.

Gaya na lang kanina, kasabayan namin ni gym mate yung dalawang model-modelan. Lean, ripped, smooth, pucha, sila na ang anak ng diyos!  Yung isa ay kahawig ni Derek Ramsey na pinaputi. Panga pa lang ay pamatay na!  Yung isa naman ay pinsan yata ni Akihiro Sato na pinaglihi sa buko. Kung absent sana si Julaw ay balewala sa akin kahit buong cast pa ng Bench Underwear Show ang magbuhat sa harap ko. Kaso mo, nadikit ako sa bakla.  Kaya hayun, tingnan man kami ng masama ni Blakedaddy eh para pa rin kaming kiti-kiti na di mapakali kapag nasa malapit lang yung mga pogi.

Don't get me wrong. Hanggang tingin lang kami ni Julaw. Kung dati ay hanggang G4M lang ang paghanga ko sa katawan ng mga boys, nitong mga nakaraang sessions ay narealize ko na tao lang ako't napapako rin ang tingin sa iba.

Sino ba naman ang hindi?   Makita mo lang na walang katiyan-tiyan ay mapapabuhat ka na parang walang katapusan. Pati mga baby fats at bilbil na dedma lang tuwing meal time ay bigla natatakwil sa ngalan ng abs.  Alam ko na kahit sa pantasya ay hindi ko ma-iimagine na magpa-cute sa kanila, pero at least sana, kapag may katabi akong kambing sa kama ay confident ako na di niya ako tatawaging biik.



Sabi ni Julaw na madalas niyang makita si Derek Ramsey look-alike na may ka-date sa Greenbelt. Tanong ko kung cute ba, sumang-ayon naman si binata. Habang patuloy kami sa pagpopogi-spot, napansin ko na sabay pumunta sa fountain si Derek at Aki.  Puwedeng puwede!!  May time rin na nagsabay sila sa Cable Machine, habang ako naman na nagle-leg raise ay napagitnaan. Amfanget!!  Bigla tuloy akong nanghina. Si Julaw naman na walang sawa sa pagdu-dumbell press ay tatawa-tawa sa akin  .

Umalis ako na hindi pa tapos yung tatlo. Mukhang may bagong ka-date na naman si Derek Ramsey samantalang si Julaw naman ay busog na busog sa view.   Tiyempo namang labas ko sa locker room ay tamang dating ng mga pinakaaabangang mga hipon.  Sa dami ng mga eye candies na aming nakita, hula ko na nagbabad pa si Julaw sa benchpress machine.  Hula ko rin na yung tiga Mabini diyan na gustong makakita ng gwapo ay lilipat sa amin.