Would you hold my hand if I saw you in heaven?

I hate having my X-ray done. All I had on was a flimsy, white hospital gown with only a few strings I needed to knot up to hold it together. My bra had to go too for some strange reason, and I felt very vulnerable and exposed in that X-ray room. I guess my X-ray anxiety wouldn’t be so bad if a girl did the X-rays but it was a guy who did it. And he didn’t look like a doctor or a nurse or whatever, he was just an ordinary guy and that kind of scared me because he could be a sex-crazed maniac for all you know, disguised as an X-ray guy just so he could take a look inside the flimsy hospital gowns of the girls who have their X-rays done.

I think I’m paranoid.

The orthopedic surgeon did a lot of geometry shit on my X-ray to measure the curves of my spine. It only lasted about two or three minutes, actually, but to me it seemed to go on forever. I felt like a murder suspect waiting for the verdict, except the only bad thing that I ever did was to be born with a bad back. After what seemed like several milleniums, he turned to me and gave me my sentence.

“The curvatures of your spine hadn’t gotten worse, nor had it improved,” he told me and I could finally release the breath I had been holding ever since I handed him my X-ray.

“So does that mean I don’t need to wear a backbrace?” I said joyously.

“It would be a little too late for that now. You’ll only have one more year before your growth is complete,” he said and that kind of made me feel disappointed. One more year to grow at least a goddamn inch. And I have been four feet-eleven since I was ten. There’s no way I can ever grow in a year. I told the doctor that and he was like, “Well the only thing that can cure you is surgery but what’s the use of growing a few more inches if you can’t move your spinal cord anymore since it will be attached to a metal rod?”

After a few more seconds of advice on what kinda exercises to do, I thanked the doctor and went to Greenhills with my mom and sister and did a bit of shopping. After a million VCD movies (pirated, of course!), two tank tops, one shirt, one pair of cargo pants and a CD case that can hold 24 CDs, I immediately forgot about my height problem. I have just about resigned myself to the fact that I will remain the height of a ten-year old for the rest of my life. I don’t know if that’s better than not having to wear a backbrace. But it beats having a metal rod attached to my spine.

There are no good movies showing AT ALL!!!! I’m glad I bought some VCD movies–that should keep me going for two or three days. I swear to God, if The Mexican isn’t showing by next week I am going to raise holy hell. I decided not to get the VCD movie of The Mexican because I want to see Brad Pitt on the big screen, with surround sound. I’ll watch it with my girlfriends so that they won’t get irritated with my occasional shrieks and sighs of, “Isn’t he just so cute?!”

Brad Pitt, you belong to me!!!!