“ Have my clothes been ironed? ”, I panicked. It is five in the evening and the invite says we need to be there by eight. It is the first birthday party of my husband’s best friend and all the WAGs are expected to be there. After spending many precious hours on Myntra and Jabong in the last two weeks, and thoroughly ransacking my old clothes, I have zeroed in on saree pants.
Somewhere in between, during a visit to Mum’s, I had also fallen for her traditional gharara and had almost got it home. But on second thoughts, it seemed a little over-the-top for a kid’s birthday bash. I had also borrowed a Benarasi sari from a dear friend, but the dry cleaners declared that the fabric was way too old and dilapidated, and any attempt at draping it publicly might result in embarrassment. Saree pants are anyway the new fad. They look chic and regal at the same time. I am hoping nobody else has thought of it for today, and the excitement is making the wait unbearable!
I think I should start straightening my hair now as it takes a whole lot of time. Though I usually curl, I read this look demands straight hair with intermittent streaks of gold. The color has been done in the morning and has come out pretty lovely.
Though it hasn’t amused my husband and kids much, I can’t keep my eyes off the mirror. The eye make-up is the deal breaker at any appearance. I’ve chosen a gold shimmer for the corners and a dark grey shade for the middle of the eyelid. A bridal red lipstick and peach rouge should go perfectly with my complexion and the black ensemble. It’s about time and I suppose everyone in house is ready by now. I have donned a ring size nath ( nose ring) and a sleek waist band that I ordered from Caratlane, and I must say I’ve got some taste! 🙂
“Looking lovely Savi!”, I am taking in all the adulation from the men. As expected, none of the females has complimented me yet, but are looking at me from the corners of their eyes. Jealousy is a trademark of women folk, I tell you! A certain Mrs, who was looking hot in the housewarming ceremony last month, has so totally got it wrong this time, and is going to be at the butt of jokes for a while to come.
I am posing for pictures and I need to be careful to look my best in each, since any of them could just be up on Facebook or Instagram, and hundreds would have seen them, before you realise! You need the right facial expression that enhances your cheekbone and makes the face look contoured. Then I have to make sure my muscular arms are not visible, I am usually in the middle of the group for this. Again, the butt has to be hidden as it has grown out of proportion after my second delivery. In short, I need to weigh ten kg’s less in my photographs.
“It’s thirty past twelve in the night!”, exclaimed my little one, “I am not going to school tomorrow.” I don’t remember meeting the birthday boy, but the kids say they had fun. I need to click a few more selfies for my Instagram story before I remove my makeup. I am still wondering if ditching the false eyelashes and hair extensions was a good idea. Tomorrow is a working day and I might not get enough time to edit the pictures. So far there have been just 200 likes on my new profile picture. I am expecting around 400 by morning. Keeping my fingers crossed!
“Good Morning Miss India!”, the receptionist of my company has quite a nasty sense of humour, which I usually ignore. A blue striped cut shirt and trousers. A high ponytail, kohl and lip gloss. Office wear is comparatively hassle free. I need to buy new heels for myself, as I saw the new Intern on the tenth floor wearing similar ones yesterday. Since I am usually wearing shape wear all day to keep my belly bulge tucked in, I am unable to eat much. During breaks, I try doing two sets of dumbbells, but the flab in the arms just refuses to budge. Between work, I realise there is a family wedding coming up next weekend, and that is touted to be one big fat affair. A visit to the salon shall be imperative since all my sisters-in-law, mother-in-law, aunties, uncles, and extended family will be there. And there is no way that I can look any less than them. I have to outshine them all.
“Hello Peeps! Ready for a late night bash at The Bistro?” my Team Lead emerges around five, and informs that there is an informal gathering at a nearby Lounge in the evening. That’s crazy! How will I go back home, get dressed and be back here? An LBD is what I need. I decide to go to a mall around the corner, and I am lucky to have found the perfect fit. It’s an off-shoulder one piece with frills and side slit. Just what would be the cynosure of envy at the do!
I danced and flaunted my moves that I had perfected seeing the Youtube dance tutorial in the meanwhile. After all, the video clips were being streamed live. I am unable to decide between four pictures to be put as my WhatsApp DP and status. But the good news lately is that new filter on Snapchat makes your face looks longer. The food is good and among friendly banter between colleagues, we are discussing how clumsy-looking and ill-groomed the new joinee is!
“It has been a long tiring day.” I mumble to myself. I am sitting in front on the mirror and dabbing some make up remover onto the cotton ball. With light strokes I begin wiping the layer of primer on my skin, as the wrinkles begin to appear. The saggy folds of skin beneath my eyes become more prominent. As I let loose my hair, the grey strands stand out from the rest, and my cheeks look disfigured and cakey. As I move my fingers along my thinning hair I realise there is no filter in real life. I am suddenly overcome by the fear of ageing and looking ugly. I feel a lump in my throat and a heaviness dawns upon me. I am no longer in the prime of my days. Youth has gone, and gone forever. The graph is going to be downward from here, and I will never be the same again.
I hurriedly open my camera and use the best filter available. I pout and stick my tongue out, and click twenty five pictures from the right angles, share two pictures on Instagram and two on Facebook, captioning them.. “#AboutLastNight” with hashtag of course 🙂