Indian Party Time, Comin’ Right Up!November 20, 2008
So here I am, three sleeps away from the event of the century. Well actually the “official” event of the century will be my sister’s July wedding, but the first-runner up is Saturday’s engagement party.
Judging by the bustle in the house, the relatives who’ll fly in (and stay with us all weekend…and dirty up the bathrooms…sigh), you would think it was the engagement of a Bollywood Princess. Well a Bollywood Princess my sister is not, but because she is forever the “first daughter”, the entire world is already up in arms for the occasion (which may I remind you, is a party hosted in our humble home).
As sister of the future bride, I’m not exactly feeling the grandeur of it all. Instead I’m busy grappling with a personal issue…like the one that relates to my fancy Indian dress…
…I decided on the green and gold Indian dress last month. It came from a pile of dresses that my mother had brought from India during a visit.
So when picking it out a month ago, so dazzled I was by the golden flecks, that I neglected to actually try the thing on. I know that sounds a little Grade-A stupid, but the dress had been tailored to fit my measurements.
So why is the thing so friggin’ tight (and in all the wrong places)?
And speaking of measurements, they were taken from a “previous me”, who was ten pounds heavier at the time.
So again; why is it so friggin’ tight?!?!?!
I suppose it’s the bias of the Indian tailors. Like I’ve been to India twice, and most of the girls have those spindly figures characterized by “light village eating”. The tailor must have thought that my numbers were a joke, and thusly corrected them to Indian-Barbie size.
Which is why I’ll be turning to the laxatives now (how much can you “expel” in two short days? Come on colon, don’t let me down…).
As I await the inevitable laxative response, let me end with a final thought:
-Part of me wants to look ugly for the occasion, and part of me does not. If I jack up the “ugly vibe”, no weird uncles or second cousins will leer…but what will become of my ego? If I look all hot on the other hand, my ego will feel like a kid at a candy store, but can I stand the potential harrassment?
I liken this conundrum to a child being told: “You can have all the candy you want, just go on over to the man in the windowless van”
So where’s the van?…
PS: If I make it out alive from this weekend, I will share some tales in true explotative form (but the jury’s still out on whether I’ll share a picture…)