Archu From The Archive, Personal

From 30s to 20s

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ShoesI am up to something. Well, I am always up to something, so what’s new? I have just begun my reverse aging process. I swear, no kidding! In my twenties, especially the latter half, I had been busy working, buying house, getting married, making kids and raising them to the 5 year old and 1.9 year old son and daughter that they are today. While many friends in my league were out there either chasing dreams or having fun or most likely both in the exotic countries of this world, I was making tough decisions to take a back step in my career, mellow my ambitions for a while and tend to laying the foundation of my family. As a wife and mother, I’ve been having a loving time. As a blogger and day-trader, I did some interesting experiments. As a person, I’ve matured from the impatient and impulsive girl that I was to a practical and perseverant mommy. But, I am still a girl mommy and since the mommy has done enough for the last few years, it’s time to listen to that girl’s cries from the bottom of the well. It’s time to tell the world where to go and catch up from where I dropped it. Not just to get back in the game but to get back with power. At 31 years of age, whether or not it works out, I am seriously up to something.

What am I up to? I’ll write about it if and when things go as planned. What I’ll write now is about the superficial metamorphosis that I am about to make in order to, let’s say, groom up a little more. Whatever it takes to get to do what I wanted and to be where I am, I’ve done them all, you know, studying and stuff. But what it takes to fit into is where all the reverse aging comes into play and until now I never realized that it could be such a challenge.

First, I will have to suit up in formals. Not the sari or kurta formals but the shirt, trousers and blazer formals. That’s not a problem. I can do it. Knee-length formal skirts, I adore them. I had been wearing them for most of my school life. The crisp cotton white shirt and the pleated blue skirt gave a smart and sophisticated look to all young girls in my school back then. What’s the problem then? It is the grooming and accessorizing that comes with the change of wardrobe. To pull off that look today, I’ll to wax my hands and legs. Ouch!

Now look, I am not a yeti or something. I do the basic hygienic clean ups. You know what I mean. Since I don’t have that much of body hair, since most Indian attires cover most of the skin anyway, since I am not a sleeveless person and since the thought of plucking the hair from my skin, plucking it all off from the roots terrifies me, I kept my body hair related grooming to bare minimum. In a place where beauty splurge is considered daily essential, what I think of as being simple could actually make me come across as gross. Damn, I need to remove the hairs and I’ve been having nightmares of hot wax being poured over my skin and hair being plucked off mercilessly. After two babies, I am still not ready for that kind of pain. To do something that I probably should have started off in my 20s, I am becoming all scared like a twenties girl.

Let’s say I get away with the problem with the help of depilatory creams. Second is the high-heeled shoes. At 5 feet and 4 inches, I am reasonably an okay height woman by Indian standards and I never had the need to rise taller in the physical sense. But now, I will have to heel up which could go from one, two to four inches depending upon the situation. Talk about ambition! The higher I rise vertically, the lesser I can walk horizontally. One inch heel shoes can make me get all wobbly. Assuming I don’t attempt stilettos and stay with wedges, how on earth will I hold my feet on those for incredibly long hours? How many twisted ankles before I can walk with a steady sexy poise? I’ll have to start practicing to walk in heels. On that note, I’ll have to reverse age back to babyhood.

Third trouble is the touch of lipstick. This is relatively not that difficult except to undo the prejudices inside my head. Until very recently, lipstick wasn’t a part of my vanity case. I somehow felt that lipstick meant having my lips laminated in different colors and that wasn’t very appealing to me. But thanks to the progress in the beauty industry that a variety of subtle shades are now in the market that doesn’t make the lips look as if they were coated with my son’s oil pastels. I am getting used to it slowly, though I save it only for occasions. Never ever will I get courageous enough to sport a bright red, unless I was dressing up for Halloween. I hope I won’t have to take up that dare. Things can’t get that bad.

And fourth, the last in my list as of now is to shed a few pounds. Who doesn’t want to? I have been trying real hard to get those extra pounds from my pregnancy, off my fat zones. No luck. Not happening. I seem to have plateaued and I have a few months to break out of it. What can I say? Let’s see.

Alright, agreed I sound like a presumptuous prick. But trust me, I am not. In the grooming department, I am as much a novice as a twenties girl of yesteryear. Not that I am trying to act like a pair of goody-two-shoes, but because the last few years, I was busy running around, cleaning puke and changing diapers. And those tasks don’t exactly need grooming, at least not the kind of grooming that’s required of me for my next venture. I see the teens of today, so far advanced in fashion and carrying themselves with such elegance behind the mask that they call make-up. I am not exactly jealous and I am willing to ease my frown upon them and discount their behavior as a part of growing up. Who I am to judge? At least they will not have to begin reverse aging in their thirties. At least their mid-life crisis wouldn’t have to deal with beauty and style. At least I will have a one up over them because I know that they can never enjoy the freedom to go bare face like the women of my days did.

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