Indian Engagement: Post-Game ReportNovember 23, 2008
My sister’s official engagement weekend is over, and though I’m relieved, I’ll say that I’m a little bit sickened. I’m not particularly sickened by anything that took place (i.e. there wasn’t any sexual harrassment as I’d feared), but the amount of oil and sugar and carbs and chicken I consumed over the weekend, well it all adds up to an irritated poop-chute (after all this time of writing a blog, that is not an uncomfortable admission).
So I’ve never been part of any sibling “wedding stuff” before, which means that all throughout I found myself feeling important. When people weren’t observing the star of the show, they were watching my every move. Add that to my successful attempt at curling my hair with a “straightening” appliance (big win for a girl who has a rat’s nest for “bed head”), and let’s just say that I was swimming in attention.
If there’s a downside to this (and there is), it’s that Indian people can’t be trusted with the offering of attention. Their attention towards unmarried (and old) Indian girls is suspicious to say the least; it’s peppered with scheming, dipped in a matchmaker’s sauce, and topped with obsessive garnish.
In yesterday’s events, I was constantly squirming away from the (surprisingly) sturdy grips of wrinkled grannies. But to no avail. At one point a granny demanded that my sister pat my head three times like I was a dog. So she did. Which means that now I’ll be married a lot quicker, according to the granny.
I also discovered that the groom’s side of the family consists of a lot of males…unmarried males. My parents haven’t made the connection yet (they’re still sighing from their “OH MY GOD our daughter is engaged!” orgasm), but my aunts and uncles haven’t missed a beat. Of course when I say “aunts” and “uncles”, I mean any adult friend of my parents (that’s right, In “Indian” world, no effort is required to earn those titles). That’s a whole lot of people wondering if I should marry some random brown dude just ’cause he’s single.
In response to their suggestive opinions, I simply stuffed my face with samosas, though knowing all along that emotional eating won’t fix my life (which is why I threw it up later…Haha, only kidding children. Don’t eat and purge). I suppose I could have talked to the dudes, but in standing within earshot of their thoughts on politics, luxury cars and being corporate snobs, I felt that the samosas were more deserving of my thighs (which is where they comfortably rest now).
So what does all this mean? Well I got dressed up, ate a lot of food, and am now the starring subject of several “Arrange-A-Life” outreach efforts.
Maybe I should’ve gone with the “try to look as ugly as possible” approach (nah…I like staring in the mirror a little too much).
For now I will simply cross my fingers, and hope that I find someone cool on my own.
Year of the Chick: one month left…
PS: Strange that I didn’t mention my sister, since it was in fact her engagement, but we all know who this blog is really about. I’ll still throw her a bone, as in…she looked really pretty and happy, okay? (*sigh*).