Finished my bath, and sat in front of the wardrobe, gaping at all my clothes – What to wear?
Oh was it an important occasion? No. Just heading to office and then ghar ka shopping.
I kept imagining how I would look in different dresses – kurta, short kurta, tight kurta, not-so-tight but slim-trim-looking kurta, formal shirt, lose formal shirt, full-hands formal and half-hands formal; jeans and t-shirt, jeans and t-shirt that makes me look fat; full-hands assisting-sun-screen tops, outfits-suiting-AC, yellow top with no matching earrings, outfits hiding my fat, outfits not fitting any more.. my thoughts were all over the place!
I asked my husband, “Love, what should I wear?”
“Anything, sweetheart. Anything comfortable.”
“Ya .. OK. See if this kurta and jeans are fine”
“Ya, wear whatever you want.”
And there I go again … thinking .. Why did he ever say whatever you want – that’s exactly what I do not know.
He finished dressing up, all set to go, assuming I’m ready in the kurta, but I’m still sitting and staring!
“We’re getting late sweetheart,” he says oh so tenderly. I knew I had to take advantage of the tenderness. So I jumped up, and gave him options to choose for me:
“Love, I don’t like that kurta. Shall I wear that Sunday ka salwar?”
“Ya, your wish love.”
No not again. Not those words -“your wish” – it makes it more hard.
Finally, he arrived at the scene, and in his tender authoritative tone, he asked me to pick from one of the 10 shirts I recently got pressed, but didn’t want to wear them. I picked it, and draped it and walked out.. still disappointed.
Why did he not weigh my options with me?
“Since there is AC in that office, and in the mall – wear this and carry a jacket, just in case.”
“No, don’t wear that Sunday ka salwaar – already wore it for the whole day on Sunday. Throw it for washing.”
“This one is good. Makes you slim and has formal touch too.”
“Don’t leave your hair completely loose in the office. Do it at the shopping. Carry your crunchy to put up the hair.”
“Where are your earrings ?”
He did not weigh the options, because my sister would do that.
My husband is not my sister. He is not my girlfriend. He is a MAN who is wondering why I can’t pick from the washed and ironed clothes, why I can’t make it fast and why I’m keeping a confused face over such a petty thing as dressing up, and most of all – this one – Why am I sitting in front of a cupboard full of clothes, 2 suitcases with half-clothes, and complaining about having no clothes?