So I went for my very first "beauty" treatment thingy.
So all the cajoling, chastising, scolding, threatening and bulling by both Mother Dearest and the lovely girl who will be dressing me for the big day (who can be pretty scary when she wants to be btw) came into fruition as I headed salon-ward the other day. "Why you being like this child? Other girls doing facials 6 months before the wedding and you just sitting there doing nothing till last minute." Mother Dearest would sing her anthem every time she so much as caught a glimpse of me around the house for the past few weeks at which I would nod and simply continue doing what I was doing anyway. And then one day the nodding was just not enough. A visit to the beautician was necessary. I was ugly and needed pretty-fying.
I must say that all this is very unfamiliar to me. Anyone who knows me would never be able to picture me at a salon getting my 'Beauty on' as easily as they can picture me in a WWE Championship match, possibly playing The Undertaker. The only instances when I would visit a salon would be either to get a haircut or to pluck my amazonian eyebrows which would breed monkeys and lions if I had left them to their own devices. So just lying there with a thick layer of fruit-scented muck on my face, anticipating the next muck session and the one after that was unfamiliar territory.
I have never realized that "just lying there" was such a difficult thing!
You are just lying there minding your own ooey-gooey business all over your face when all these thoughts go buzzing through your head. This little annoying voice whines in your ear like a tiny mosquito reminding you of all the things that you have to do but you haven't still done. And just lying there you start thinking what a waste of time it all is and how you could have read a book, made a cake, written your next post for your food blog, written your novel, organized your closet and etc in that time. And then when you finally doze off, you dream that you are being kidnapped by aliens (I suspect that the flapping of the foil paper covering my face had something to do with it. Also, I think I now know how a baked chicken feels), and is jolted awake when the foil is yanked off you face, convinced they yanked the skin off of your body to make a skin suit for themselves to roam the earth undetected. And then your face is swallowed up by a thick, wet sponge mopping your face all over again.
Various smells pass your nose - rose, papaya, tamarind, cloves, unidentified floral smells and the works while various textures touch your face - some thick and grainy and others smooth and satiny. Will you be wrapped up like a mummy in bandages like when she poked you with that funny little twig with a light at its end that makes a whirring sound and smells like electricity? Will she give one of those divine eye massages again (I actually liked that part of the treatment). Who is washing my face? Oh wait, that's my beautician, no it's her assistant. Ow, the eye! Watch the friggin' eye! And DON'T poke your finger in my nose, dammit! *achchoo!* God her hands are so rough, or is it just the scrub that is scraping my face? She probably had tempered dhal for lunch today, I smell tempered dhal and she probably touched a baby after that, because that's definitely Eau de Cologne. Is it her sister's baby? Or is it hers? But she doesn't have a baby. Does she have a secret baby? But babies are annoying, I'd rather have a dog. Yes, dogs are fun. I miss Frankie. Is he sleeping? Did he chew up my rosemary plants again? Have to bathe him over the weekend. The weekend! I MUST go book shopping! Oh but I can't cz I have like a gazillion things to do. Gazillion - is that even a word? How many zeros are there to gazillion? If zeros have no value, why do they add all those zeros at the end and claim that those are big amounts? Eeeeek, that's slimy, what the HELL is that? Snail juice? Why do I have snail juice on my face? Why am I doing this? Oh yeah, I'm getting married and they think I'm ugly. So what if I'm ugly? Good if I'm ugly, then I won't have to get married. Do I really have to get married? Why am I getting married? I don't wanna get married! I DON'T!!! Waaaaaaaaaaaahhh!!
....and then it goes on.
And that's not even the worst of it.
Imagine an itchy nose, one of those super itchy ones that you are convinced that you will die if you don't scratch it, but you can't scratch it because your nose is buried under a good inch or two of thick, unnamed goo. Even if your face is muck-free, tough luck, because your arms are bound down in several layers of thick, sweet-smelling muck too!
No. Not fun at all.
Anyways, many hours later (which seemed like centuries) I emerged from under the layers looking not much different than I first did before all that washing, scrubbing and mucking. I don't see what all the fuss was about at all.
I was informed that I will have to "lie in" for two more sessions before the wedding. Sigh.
I just wish I could get spa treatments instead. Spas are fun, I like spas. There's always something happening, no lying around doing basically nothing at spas.
Hair was discussed at great lengths too. Suddenly my biggest problem in life was the parting of hair. Will it be a side parting, or will it be centre? Should there be a parting at all? If it is a side parting, should it be a left parting or a right? Because the right brings out my eyes while the left brings out my mouth. And I am required to choose between my eyes and my mouth - or something of the sort.
It gets very confusing.
Eye shadows, lipsticks, there are so many shades of pink that E.L James would have been ashamed! (what? only 50? Come on!). And then comes the colour of face powder - will it be 'Natural Bouquet', 'Warm Silk', 'Honey Bronze' or 'Winter Harvest'? Honestly, had I not been aware, I would have assumed that we were selecting dessert. Or something as exciting as dessert (but could anything else really be as exciting as dessert?)
Also, is the word "wedding" some kind of a mystical, magical word that upon speaking it, the speaker's appearance changes into something akin to a free-dispensing ATM machine? As soon as someone hears the word "wedding", the cost of pretty much everything just skyrockets to about five times more. You want a bouquet of nice, simple flowers? Rs 56,000. You want a handkerchief? That's Rs 10,000/-. You want a hairpin? Oh but that's like Rs 8,000/-!
Apart from me, it seems like everybody else is getting married because they are too rich and have nothing to do with all that dough. At least that seems to be what the commercial world out there seems to think. I for one have better use for what I earn. And there's no way in hell that I would waste my parents' hard earned cash for making these opportunists any richer either.
All things aside, getting married is serious business. Sure, you get the big, fat, white (well, champagne coloured) wedding and it's all fun, pretty dresses and games, but what then? For a girl, she might as well be born again rather than getting married. You leave your home in which you grew up all your life, your parents on whom you knew you could always fall back on, your carefree life - your lazy Sunday mornings in front of the TV watching TLC or Desperate Housewives with a cup of tea in your hand and the cheerful sunlight filtering through the lace curtains, your late night movie binges and avalanches of midnight snacks, your random shopping trips to the second hand bookstores whenever you felt like it, your solitary evenings on the balcony reminiscing about life and all things in general, your ability to get lost in a book days at end blocking out the entire world, coming home to a house fragrant with the smell of spices and a hearty home cooked meal, your mother waiting by the gate to welcome you home the bougainvilleas cascading down on her making a pretty picture, messing around with your dog who is less of an animal and more of a sibling and has grown himself into your heart muscle itself, your mother's cooking, your father's footsteps coming up the courtyard as he comes home from work with Frankie boy jumping excitedly at his heel, your parents watching the 8'O clock news together marveling at things happening in the country, your afternoon tea sessions with the parents in the living room, on the veranda or in the garden watching the antics of the Franky boy, your in depth discussions with father about the future and all things philosophical, gossip sessions and cooking tips from mom and cooking together with her in the kitchen albeit often with contrasting views, spontaneous shopping trips, exhibition explorations and lunches out with mom whenever we felt like it. Hell, I'l even miss her nagging! - there's so much I am forced to leave behind which I am not ready to leave behind yet.
Can I not get married right now? I'd rather be my parents' little girl forever.
For a man, life remains pretty much the same after marriage whereas for a girl, everything changes. Responsibilities, not only of herself and the husband but of her in-laws as well, the extra strain of coping with the expectations of the new family - this is especially hard for a private person such as myself. A woman is required to give up her surname - the one she wore with pride all these years, to give up her home - where she felt safe and protected and then to give up her lifestyle and hobbies, at least make compromises on them - all of this is basically a woman's identity. And having to give up all these things - I think it is very unfair.
But oh my darling, life is hardly fair.
It does help that I have the most kindest, the most gentlest and the most generous in-laws who accept me as their own and a man I know who will go to the other end of earth for me (if I nagged a little and he didn't have to drive that is). It also helps that he is my best friend and partner in crime and has been so for the past 7-8 years and I think he loves me enough to facilitate me being myself, doing the things that I love the most.
And it's a small miracle in itself that my vacillating, easily-bored self has stuck it out with him for 7 years going. This must be fate!
What does NOT help is that we (as myself and my fiance are both doing our MBAs together) have an assignment due just a few days after the wedding and a thesis coming up immediately after that. This coupled alongside the most stressful period at work - probably the most stressful that work will ever get and it all falls right when I decide to get married.
Sigh. Why God, why?
Anyways,
I constantly remind myself, that this too I shall get through as I always have. And this time, I have backing in the form of a somewhat annoying other half (who to my dismay, is throwing more bitch-fits than I do these days). And I am confident (not quite, but getting there) that we will totally rock it, responsibilities n all!
So all the cajoling, chastising, scolding, threatening and bulling by both Mother Dearest and the lovely girl who will be dressing me for the big day (who can be pretty scary when she wants to be btw) came into fruition as I headed salon-ward the other day. "Why you being like this child? Other girls doing facials 6 months before the wedding and you just sitting there doing nothing till last minute." Mother Dearest would sing her anthem every time she so much as caught a glimpse of me around the house for the past few weeks at which I would nod and simply continue doing what I was doing anyway. And then one day the nodding was just not enough. A visit to the beautician was necessary. I was ugly and needed pretty-fying.
I must say that all this is very unfamiliar to me. Anyone who knows me would never be able to picture me at a salon getting my 'Beauty on' as easily as they can picture me in a WWE Championship match, possibly playing The Undertaker. The only instances when I would visit a salon would be either to get a haircut or to pluck my amazonian eyebrows which would breed monkeys and lions if I had left them to their own devices. So just lying there with a thick layer of fruit-scented muck on my face, anticipating the next muck session and the one after that was unfamiliar territory.
I have never realized that "just lying there" was such a difficult thing!
You are just lying there minding your own ooey-gooey business all over your face when all these thoughts go buzzing through your head. This little annoying voice whines in your ear like a tiny mosquito reminding you of all the things that you have to do but you haven't still done. And just lying there you start thinking what a waste of time it all is and how you could have read a book, made a cake, written your next post for your food blog, written your novel, organized your closet and etc in that time. And then when you finally doze off, you dream that you are being kidnapped by aliens (I suspect that the flapping of the foil paper covering my face had something to do with it. Also, I think I now know how a baked chicken feels), and is jolted awake when the foil is yanked off you face, convinced they yanked the skin off of your body to make a skin suit for themselves to roam the earth undetected. And then your face is swallowed up by a thick, wet sponge mopping your face all over again.
Various smells pass your nose - rose, papaya, tamarind, cloves, unidentified floral smells and the works while various textures touch your face - some thick and grainy and others smooth and satiny. Will you be wrapped up like a mummy in bandages like when she poked you with that funny little twig with a light at its end that makes a whirring sound and smells like electricity? Will she give one of those divine eye massages again (I actually liked that part of the treatment). Who is washing my face? Oh wait, that's my beautician, no it's her assistant. Ow, the eye! Watch the friggin' eye! And DON'T poke your finger in my nose, dammit! *achchoo!* God her hands are so rough, or is it just the scrub that is scraping my face? She probably had tempered dhal for lunch today, I smell tempered dhal and she probably touched a baby after that, because that's definitely Eau de Cologne. Is it her sister's baby? Or is it hers? But she doesn't have a baby. Does she have a secret baby? But babies are annoying, I'd rather have a dog. Yes, dogs are fun. I miss Frankie. Is he sleeping? Did he chew up my rosemary plants again? Have to bathe him over the weekend. The weekend! I MUST go book shopping! Oh but I can't cz I have like a gazillion things to do. Gazillion - is that even a word? How many zeros are there to gazillion? If zeros have no value, why do they add all those zeros at the end and claim that those are big amounts? Eeeeek, that's slimy, what the HELL is that? Snail juice? Why do I have snail juice on my face? Why am I doing this? Oh yeah, I'm getting married and they think I'm ugly. So what if I'm ugly? Good if I'm ugly, then I won't have to get married. Do I really have to get married? Why am I getting married? I don't wanna get married! I DON'T!!! Waaaaaaaaaaaahhh!!
....and then it goes on.
And that's not even the worst of it.
No. Not fun at all.
Anyways, many hours later (which seemed like centuries) I emerged from under the layers looking not much different than I first did before all that washing, scrubbing and mucking. I don't see what all the fuss was about at all.
I was informed that I will have to "lie in" for two more sessions before the wedding. Sigh.
I just wish I could get spa treatments instead. Spas are fun, I like spas. There's always something happening, no lying around doing basically nothing at spas.
It gets very confusing.
Eye shadows, lipsticks, there are so many shades of pink that E.L James would have been ashamed! (what? only 50? Come on!). And then comes the colour of face powder - will it be 'Natural Bouquet', 'Warm Silk', 'Honey Bronze' or 'Winter Harvest'? Honestly, had I not been aware, I would have assumed that we were selecting dessert. Or something as exciting as dessert (but could anything else really be as exciting as dessert?)
Also, is the word "wedding" some kind of a mystical, magical word that upon speaking it, the speaker's appearance changes into something akin to a free-dispensing ATM machine? As soon as someone hears the word "wedding", the cost of pretty much everything just skyrockets to about five times more. You want a bouquet of nice, simple flowers? Rs 56,000. You want a handkerchief? That's Rs 10,000/-. You want a hairpin? Oh but that's like Rs 8,000/-!
Apart from me, it seems like everybody else is getting married because they are too rich and have nothing to do with all that dough. At least that seems to be what the commercial world out there seems to think. I for one have better use for what I earn. And there's no way in hell that I would waste my parents' hard earned cash for making these opportunists any richer either.
All things aside, getting married is serious business. Sure, you get the big, fat, white (well, champagne coloured) wedding and it's all fun, pretty dresses and games, but what then? For a girl, she might as well be born again rather than getting married. You leave your home in which you grew up all your life, your parents on whom you knew you could always fall back on, your carefree life - your lazy Sunday mornings in front of the TV watching TLC or Desperate Housewives with a cup of tea in your hand and the cheerful sunlight filtering through the lace curtains, your late night movie binges and avalanches of midnight snacks, your random shopping trips to the second hand bookstores whenever you felt like it, your solitary evenings on the balcony reminiscing about life and all things in general, your ability to get lost in a book days at end blocking out the entire world, coming home to a house fragrant with the smell of spices and a hearty home cooked meal, your mother waiting by the gate to welcome you home the bougainvilleas cascading down on her making a pretty picture, messing around with your dog who is less of an animal and more of a sibling and has grown himself into your heart muscle itself, your mother's cooking, your father's footsteps coming up the courtyard as he comes home from work with Frankie boy jumping excitedly at his heel, your parents watching the 8'O clock news together marveling at things happening in the country, your afternoon tea sessions with the parents in the living room, on the veranda or in the garden watching the antics of the Franky boy, your in depth discussions with father about the future and all things philosophical, gossip sessions and cooking tips from mom and cooking together with her in the kitchen albeit often with contrasting views, spontaneous shopping trips, exhibition explorations and lunches out with mom whenever we felt like it. Hell, I'l even miss her nagging! - there's so much I am forced to leave behind which I am not ready to leave behind yet.
Can I not get married right now? I'd rather be my parents' little girl forever.
For a man, life remains pretty much the same after marriage whereas for a girl, everything changes. Responsibilities, not only of herself and the husband but of her in-laws as well, the extra strain of coping with the expectations of the new family - this is especially hard for a private person such as myself. A woman is required to give up her surname - the one she wore with pride all these years, to give up her home - where she felt safe and protected and then to give up her lifestyle and hobbies, at least make compromises on them - all of this is basically a woman's identity. And having to give up all these things - I think it is very unfair.
But oh my darling, life is hardly fair.
It does help that I have the most kindest, the most gentlest and the most generous in-laws who accept me as their own and a man I know who will go to the other end of earth for me (if I nagged a little and he didn't have to drive that is). It also helps that he is my best friend and partner in crime and has been so for the past 7-8 years and I think he loves me enough to facilitate me being myself, doing the things that I love the most.
And it's a small miracle in itself that my vacillating, easily-bored self has stuck it out with him for 7 years going. This must be fate!
What does NOT help is that we (as myself and my fiance are both doing our MBAs together) have an assignment due just a few days after the wedding and a thesis coming up immediately after that. This coupled alongside the most stressful period at work - probably the most stressful that work will ever get and it all falls right when I decide to get married.
Sigh. Why God, why?
Anyways,
I constantly remind myself, that this too I shall get through as I always have. And this time, I have backing in the form of a somewhat annoying other half (who to my dismay, is throwing more bitch-fits than I do these days). And I am confident (not quite, but getting there) that we will totally rock it, responsibilities n all!
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