Hormones gone haywire, ‘that time of the month’, pot-bellied pregnancies, dreadful deliveries – the one thing that’s thick as thieves with a woman’s life is pain. But wait, does pain stop there? No, certainly not!
We like to flaunt our curves, strut our stuff and tease the ‘not-so-fair’ sex. And for those of us who aren’t blessed with the hourglass 36-24-36 frame, ‘sundar’ face, lambe, ghane hair, or ‘fair and lovely’ skin, worry not, for the savior has mushroomed in almost every nook and corner.
Aaj kal ke womaniya not just do the ghar ka kaam, and mint money for their families, they also walk (sprint, in extreme cases!) the extra mile to make sure they are well-groomed from top to toe. Let’s not forget our most loyal companion – pain. Yes, she raises her ugly head most often during our parlour visits too.
Beauty not just comes with pocket-burning and jaw-dropping bills, it also comes with another price tag dangling on its neck. Pain. Extreme and severe pain. The pain of getting eyebrows plucked and shaped; the pain of ripping off ‘unwanted’ hair; the pain of having to lie down for hours while the parlour people have fun at our expense; the pain of having to endure uncalled for comments like, ‘ohhhhh your skin is soo rough!’; pain of having to pay through our noses!
The pain of anticipating pain would top the charts in the worst pain category. Just as the wax gets applied to the skin in a gentle fashion, the strip of paper very reassuringly patted on to the skin, one, two, and three! Wham, it rips off the life out of us!
That. Is. Pain.
Parlour visits are just the tip of the iceberg. The life of the womaniya is difficult. Almost always, our wardrobes seem to wear a sad, barren look. Enough is never enough. The first big task before going out is – what to wear. What follows next is the ‘mix-n-match’ mission, after which we do our hair, our eyes, our lips. We spray a dash of perfume, check the mirror, plucker our lips, re-check the mirror, bat our eyelids, check the mirror again. We swirl around to get a glimpse of how we’d look from the other side, try our footwear, and yes, check the mirror again. By that time, hubby/daddy/boyfriend/ brother (yes, men, they’re all the same!) dearest would begin showing symptoms of restlessness, levels of intensity increasing with each tick-tock of the clock. (levels of intensity for the benefit of those reading this: restlessness- anxiousness-irritation-anger-outburst)
And then, we wear heels. We wear them to gain a few extra inches, for the perfect posture, and most often than not, to flaunt a newly bought pair. Whatever the reason may be, we wear it, and we fancy it. But most importantly, we wear it, and paddle along like ducks. Snails would win a race with us, and sneer at us from the finishing line; penguins would seem more graceful, and those tagging along with us would be annoyed. Very annoyed. We end up sitting and making faces like we’re just about to die from the pain, and the outing, well, let’s just forget about it!
Our bags, like my father says, look like sacks. Someone could just kidnap us by stuffing us inside our own bags, and we would be surprised to discover ‘treasure island’ hidden inside! From hair brushes, to variants in lipsticks, kajals, powder, mirror, wet tissues, and other make up items, one could even dress a bride up with all the ‘equipments’ found inside. And then, our petite shoulders start aching carrying around all the weight, but as they say, ‘control nahi hota’!
Jokes aside, we are not just smart(hehehe), we are also strong. Just imagine a man with hormonal imbalances, or one who’s just about to pop out a baby. Not a pretty sight inside the head, isn’t it? Did I hear some guy crooning, ‘Oh womaniya!’ after reading this? ;)
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