Benny's Day Out

I bought a dress! A DRESS! A D-R-E-S-S!!!!!!!
Why is that such a Big Deal? I'll tell ya, ya bum! Tis because I have not bought, worn, owned a dress in almost fourteen years! I'm Pants Girl! I sit on floors with my legs crossed in bookshops, I put my feet up in cafes and restaurants....and you can't do that in a dress!
Yesterday, however M and I were wandering the shops...and we went into this little boutique. The dress was hanging up behind some others. It wasn't Love at First Sight. I didn't gasp, clutch my chest and go 'That's The One!!' I rarely get excited about clothes. In fact, I rarely buy clothes at all. With a mother in Europe, a father hopping across oceans every two weeks, an aunt in New York...well...clothes just come my way.
So anyway, I showed the dress to M and she insisted I try it on. The trial room was a tiny alcove with curtains all around...very Yin methought.
I tried on the dress. Even in the overhead fluorescent light, it looked good. Fitted well and didn't make me look like a kid wearing her mother's dress. M fell in love with me straightaway and was all 'You HAVE to wear it to the party tomorrow! It will have Good After-Effects!' (No I won't explain what she meant!)

So...I bought it. Forked over the first of my Pujo money, the lady at the counter put the dress in a brown paper bag..and I was the owner of a dress. After fourteen years.
All the way home, I kept peeking into the bag. Like the dress was going to disappear, like it wasn't real! It wasn't for me. Pants Girl could wear quirky makeup, colourful earrings and slip-off chappals.
Dress Girl couldn't. She had to be precise, linear...and wear heels!
I came home. took the dress out of its bag and put it on. I hate trial room mirrors anyway. The outfit has to look good in my mirror, else it's not worth it.
It did. I'm not good at using phrases like 'It gathered around her waist and fell to her knees in flowing, feminine lines':)
But I'm happy I let Pants Girl crack a little.





My day was just full of Big Events. After shopping, M and I went to Malaka Spice and ate sausage satay, grilled prawns and 2 glasses of wine each. Then we went to a tattoo studio to look at designs. M took one look at the studio (and the artist) and turned pale. I was more composed. I looked at designs and decided on a hummingbird. before sneezing copiously all over the design-books. Now I just need to save up enough to get it done. I msgd Mum about it. She called back. This is how the conversation went:
Me: Hello.

Mum: YOU'LL GET AIDS!!

Me(patiently): Mum, I'm not getting it done today. And I won't get AIDS. I've checked out the place.

Mum: But...but...it'll hurt! And it'll swell up and you'll get fever. AND AIDS!

Me: It doesn't hurt all that much. Really, I'll be ok.

Mum: Oh... so what kind of tattoo are you getting done?

Me: A hummingbird I think.

Mum(gleefully): A hummingbird has strong sexual connotations! Hey you know what? When you meet the Love of Your Life, get his initial done on your inner thigh!

Me: MUM! That's gross! I'm eating lunch!

Mum(cheerfully): I think it's an idea. Ok, I'll call you later!

Some kids hide their doings from parents for fear they'll disapprove. I'm afraid to tell mine of my doings...because they top me every time!


In the evening, S and I went shopping for a birthday present for his little sister. Traffic was bad and S cribbed about every person on the road. 'Some people never get over their slowness.'(to a bullock-cart) 'Some people can never make up their minds.'(to a cyclist on the left who suddenly decided he wanted to go right)
He bought his present, on my recommendation. I still have to get mine, and between us, my stepmum and I have exactly 75 rupees in the house! Sheesh!
After this S and i went out for Lemon Cheesecake and Zebra Torte at a lovely bakery-cafe where the ceilings are so low, even Miniature Me has to stoop. They're obviously sensitive to the feelings of short people, those ceilings are designed to make us feel tall! In the midst if all this my stepmum kept calling and asking 'are yall holding hands?'and giggling.
Anyway, so we ate and talked of Colleen McCullough, my impending tattoo, against which he took a strongly right-wing position, how I'm obsessed with him, whether or not we should go to another bakery who make divine blueberry cheesecake etc. After this we came back to my house, watched bits and pieces of Pakeezah, he borrowed some jazz cd's for his Guruji and a cd of Genesis 'because the name sounds nice' and then left.
It took about two minutes for me to start missing him.