HOW DO YOU MEASURE A GIRL?

Twenty months ago, I met a boy who told me that I am emitting a black-colored aura. Of course, I was startled.

A black-colored aura? What in the world….

In my mind flashed images of ninjas wearing black clothes and images of all villains in the world. What does this guy think of me?

But he cleared my confused mind by saying that it was just his own view of assessing persons. He explained to me that for him, a girl emitting a pink aura is girly while a girl who poorly emits this aura can be most likely a lesbian.

For the love of Pete! What’s more with black?!

But again he told me that black is different. It simply meant that I am not a typical kind of girl. I don’t know if he told the truth but I think its better that way.

I began to look at myself. I won’t say that I am ugly the same way I won’t say that I am beautiful. Let’s just say that I am average… and a little bit dashing. No, I’m kidding, I am just an average girl. LOL.

With these I wondered how a man measures a girl.

And why am I emitting a black aura?

Why am I not a typical girl?

And why am I disappointed about that black aura?

I don’t wear make-up, I always reason that they are expensive but another reason is I don’t know how to put them on.

I am not a fan of One Direction, Taylor Swift or Justin Bieber. I like Frank Sinatra more. (Um, can I add The Script, too?J).

I don’t have crushes on teen-aged male actors. I like Mel Gibson more. I don’t watch TV. I spend the day reading.

I don’t like movies of love. I like cartoons more. In fact, when I was a child, I’m an avid Naruto fan. (Naruto is a Japanese anime program). I can still remember the look on my classmates’ faces every time I talk about his techniques.

When I was a child, my cousins play while I spend the afternoon sitting under our mango tree while admiring the clouds and trying hard to draw them.

I bike, I think many girls do but my fondness in biking brought me to an accident one rainy afternoon. It brought an ugly scar on my left arm.

The library is my hangout. I can spend the day literally devouring literature books.

I like watching the stars. During summer nights I’d lie down on our ‘papag’ outside while measuring the unfathomable wonder of the world.

I like sewing. During afternoons, I sew pillow cases, mantles, kerchiefs, anything that can be sewn. I like collecting old things, my mother would call them “trash,” but I won’t be throwing them away until I figure out something for them.

So this is being black? I can live with that.

Women are made to compliment men. Adam can testify to that. Women differ from one another. All men can testify to that. Women will be women. It doesn’t matter how they look, smell, or whatever. You can never measure them through those things. Know her, that’s the only way.

And the guy I am talking about the first paragraph? He learned that a girl can never be measured… but appreciated for whatever she is.

That guy who told me I am emitting a “black-colored aura”? He chose “beautifully.” And he fell in love with me. (Actually he calls my collection of old things “witch’s accessories.”)