I’m not a fan of shopping, I try to delay it as much as possible. It is only when an occasion barges in through my door that I frantically search for clothes. I always end up tip-toeing to mom on the eve of an event to declare that I have nothing to wear.
I drag her with me to one of the many apparel stores around. At first sight, all the colourful fabrics look absolutely stunning. I can already imagine my fat body squeezed into those pieces of clothing and I look fabulous! A dozen photos of people in facebook, who rocked in such clothes cross my mind. Ha! I walk off determined. However, the walls of the trial rooms have a different story to tell.
My imagination capabilities are pathetic, my body is considerably endowed than how I would like to perceive it. Sad. Whatever size I take, I’ll need the next. I venture out of the trial rooms and hunt for the next size and voila! They have every single size in that pattern except mine.
Suddenly my eyes fall on the perfect one. It’s love at first sight. I dash towards it and moments before I raise it into the air like a champion lifting a trophy, the tag catches my eye. Obscenely priced. My wallet begins to smoke. I throw it away and put out the fire.
Finally, I find a kurti in my size, reasonably priced , but the colour isn’t very flattering. I cross my fingers, toes, intestines and what not and search for a different colour – nope, that’s not available either. I think I am an alien. I don’t know how i’ll survive on this planet, all of its inhabitants know how and where to get what they want!
Then I see a skinny, perfectly proportioned female walk along casually and pick up one of outfits I had discarded. She stuffs the item inside her shopping bag and takes a trip to the trial room. I see her head off to billing shortly, apparently she has the luxury of having the perfect imagination unlike me. Simple life. I give up!
I hate shopping and shopping hates me.
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