It started with Baboy, which is Tagalog for ‘pig.’ At the time, I wobbled with my weight, and of the few things that fit me was that nickname. Other kids loved its sound so much, they made it a game to blend it into pop music. People said it to feel their lips smack between syllables, like a basketball coming to rest: Ba, boy, baboy, bababoy, boy. Even when shouted, people played with which half to stress: BA-Aboy, or BabO-OY. Remy never could decide, so he bounced between both.
At Filipino parties, it’s custom to serve lechon - a whole pig skewered over a fire spit, roasted until the skin crusts a quarter inch through. Once, when we finished our plates in the kids’ room, Remy faked starving for more lechon. Instead of leaving the room to get a second helping, he poked me with his fork and dragged it along my shoulder. He brought it to his lips, rolled his eyes, and said, “Wow. We should’ve just cooked you.” The kids snickered, and Remy smiled at them. “Hey, Baboy, I have a serious question.” He nudged me with his elbow. “Come on, it’s serious.”
“What are you going to ask him?” some kid said. Remy stooped with his hands on his knees, met me where I sat. “How’d you get to be so fat? My mom says there’s lots of reasons people are fat. She says it could be jean etiquette, but most times it’s cause the person eats the wrong thing - like really oily food - and the person eats too much of it. Like, way more than he needs to live.” He poked my belly, grinned at how his finger indented. “So, which one’s your reason? Hm?” Other kids joined in, “Yeah, which one is it; I bet it’s the oily food one, What’s jean etiquette; Tell us, please?”
How it turned into ‘Playdough,’ my memory blurs. But play dough can be molded into balls, into lumps, and into rolls. It can be squashed into pancakes and indented with just a finger. I forget the reasons surrounding it, but Remy made sure that name stuck.
