What’s new in the 17th week?

Week 17 and I am still not a teen, but soon (years from now) I shall be. My weight now is well over 100 grams, to be more precise 140. My father still says that the most precious and valuable items are measured in grams, like gold, diamonds, caviar and on. But I know that no sooner he has seen me in person he will immediately start loving all of my growing weight.

I am 12.5 cm long, longer than roller ruler, ‘shubler’ or ‘shestar’. Now as far as the living world comparison is concerned I really do have to protest as I did last time, but this one not directed at such intolerably capitalistic comparisons, but to my parents relying on such ‘imperialistic’ sources. Hence I shall try to compare myself with a little ‘voice-over’ help by my parents. Moreover, I shall encourage you all to find a counterpart of something that is long 12.5 cm, weighs around 150 grams, can move its joints. That is slightly more than a normal CD diameter, a size of a “skopski jabucar”, of a bigger ‘lampion’, of a smaller melon, of an ‘izdishan’ post-new year balloon, of the 95 A bra basket, of…

BUT, all this is formal, superficial, unimportant. It does not tell anything about the contents. Therefore, from now on, I will be only and only compared to qualities. So, this week, I am as firm as a bone, and yet as fragile as it. As moving and movable as any marine animal, and yet anchored and dependant on my mother by my more and more strengthening umbilical cord.

As big as any baby of my age and yet smaller than imaginable for you. As sweaty as morning dew, yet as smelling as the petal from which it fells. As light as two hands full of peanuts, and yet as heavy and strong as the fart they induce. Now that is what I feel like being this week, had you the need to find what is actually written, go and read those quantifying, deeply westernized sites. And do forgive my father for this.

Last Wednesday I had the opportunity to watch some football games. It started great if not for my mother’s early retreat to bed, D*** mama, I may be a boy! However I got the chance to both meet my father’s friend Dejan who supports one of the most feminine dancing clubs in the world – AC Milan, and the chance to listen to commentaries in two languages Macedonian and Albanian. For me, being totally deprived of any linguistic training or knowledge, all languages (save the doc’s mumbling) are all but same to me. (Sorry for being politically incorrect, but I am politically uneducated, non-seduced and unburdened. HAHAHAHA!!!).

Then, the next day as you already know, I went Wickeeeed. The concert was great, I head banged, my mother bounced a bit and my father was one of the very, very, very few people that actually sang along. Not that he knows Bulgarian that much, he knows the lyrics. And there was a beer fair, whatever that is. Then I spent a nice weekend with my aunt Nana a while, and mostly with mu parents who had great guests on Saturday. Papak and Elena. They have a very lovely and cute daughter Angela, who being more than three years superior to me will probably by my role model, rather than friends. They really understand children. My father says Papak is a true father-figure guru that only lacks a bong and a circle of smoke into which “Nah follow Yah word, ask not, wonder, not, just go with it maan!” is written. Auntie Elena is very tender, nice, and soft looking, I know Angela would have her wits and mostly looks after her. A real Russian princess. And as we start having a nice chat I was taken away by my mother. That’s the ‘curse’ of being attached.

Then yesterday I went out with my uncle Henkjan who is not from Macedonia, as if it makes a lot of difference to me, but who is nice chatting companion, caring, and this time full of exciting traveling stories. Ahh! There goes another week. And I am looking forward to the next.