So i am not exactly good with 'girl-things'. Okay. That didn't come out right.
I don't think there's any better way to say it but here's the deal- I freak out buying sanitary napkins and lingerie. I can't do it. I don't know why. Condom buying has always been so much easier than I-pill buying. I dread the days when friends decides to send me to buy napkins and I-pills by hiding under the garb of it being an emergency. Anyway, after living, what i would like to believe is, a quarter of my entire life, if there's one thing i know for sure it is that the maximum all the embarrassment one faces in life is courtesy ones friends and family.
BLAST FROM THE PAST.
I remember the first time i ever bought the Dracula pack (read: sanitary napkin) was when i was in the eleventh grade. Funny story (as always)...friend1 decides to lose her 'flower' (F.R.I.E.N.D.S reference; read: virginity) to friend2 in friend2's house, which ,by the nasty humour of the universe, happens to be in MY neighbourhood. Here I am, oblivious to what my own friends are about to do to me, bunking my Accountancy tuition and making merry. And then my cell phone flashes *friend2 calling*.
Me: friiiieeeennndddddddd2 :) :) what's up?
Him: Ya. Hi. err.. so we sort of did it today. And she's bleeding a lot now. errr.. i don't know what to do... you need to come over and give her one of the napkin things!!!
Me: YOU HAD SEX??? awwwwwwww. but i'm not home. i can't get it.
Him: BUY ONE!!
Me: what? you mad? i can't!
Him: DOOOOOOD !!! she NEEDS it!
Me: fuck you friend2! bleh. i'll see what i can do... asshole pervert bastard!
Him: ya ya. Come quick.
So much for friends making life easier for one another. So i go over to the chemist and use the softest pitch known to mankind and tell him to give me one. He, like a dog, senses my fear and almost as if to take my case presents me with this volley of options. How i want to tell him to shove so many things up so many places in his own body. Anyway. I finally make the damn decision, get it in a black bag and take it over to his place. Turns out, the 'bleeding' is the indicative blood drops of..errr.. 'the flower being taken'.
Yes. I almost slapped her too. More so, when she told me 'maybe you can take it back! I don't use this brand'.
Moral of the story : People who know nothing about sex, must not have it!!!
Never bought another one since. Evidently so.
I had to buy a thong for a Best Friend. Before my sexual orientation is questioned, it is in a Practical Joke sort of way and not 'come be my kink fest' way. Though I am bisexual... No. I am not :( :( But i want to be. The coolest people i know are Bisexual. I just find girl-on-girl creepy. Ah. Now that's another story.
Back to the thong.
Given my phobia of buying lingerie ( I think it has a lot to do with the first time my mother noticed my 'developments' and took me bra shopping and I was supposed to wear it and then show it to her and she told me if it's the right fit and other technicalities. This drill repeated the next few times I needed one too. Yes, Any child can be scarred by this!), buying a thong was really not my idea of a great afternoon shopping spree, post lunch. Yet, the losers you call your best friends must make you do things you loathe, consciously and otherwise. So after lots of pretending-to-buy-something-else faces, I gathered enough courage to pick out this leopard printed slut of a thong for her. It is the mother of slutty undergarment. Just touching it gave me little shivers. I then asked the next obvious question 'What? It's supposed to be one size for all?'. To this, you would expect a normal verbal reply, wouldn't you? I did too. Only, she thought a demo will get her a hug from me, maybe. How else would you explain her choice of stretching that tiny piece of cloth to it's maximum glory only to show me that it can fit anything from a 28-32inch waist. Disturbing? I think so. I decided to make the purchase. No. It had nothing to do with the sales woman's unethical tactics.
Now she better like it, my friend. And it better fit.. Not that I'll ever see *throws up a little, at the thought*.
My mom's husband and I don't really talk. At least, we haven't for as long as I can remember. Our relationship? A little twisted; a little strained. It's not that big a deal, really because you don't miss the things you never had, right?
Anyway, today His Highness decided to tell me how he doesn't know what is up with me and how he should and he tries to be a better father than he is and a lot of related things that didn't seem to make too much sense to me. Conclusion being, we are going to, as a rule, indulge in lots of pseudo intellectual activities on the lines of appreciating the Arts- the only likely common ground for the both of us, right now.
For me, it's not so much about getting to know my sperm donor better. It's not about it at all, actually. I am, however, looking forward to embodying the whole culture of cool kurta clad, English speaking Indian women who carry a spiral bound notebook in their hands that wear metal bangles and roam around displaying ever so much enthusiasm in heir Kajal lined eyes about the culture and heritage of India and the world. This, with so much excitement about the one million and one great plays and movies i am going to watch; so what if it's with what my mum chose to marry. It will be fun. And the cherry on the cake of this entire 'bonding exercise' is that it will be followed by compulsive culinary experiences. Bliss.
Date #1. This Sunday, it is. Movie. 'Divine Intervention'. Looking forward to it. :)
Hence, summing up 'The Thong and other Things'.
Hence, summing up 'The Thong and other Things'.
P.S- I have fallen in love with 'Fool in the Rain'- Led Zeppelin all over again