the only time i have come close to wavering on this is the hair styling appointment i spent sitting next to john abraham. i remember initially being blinded by his sheer radiance and then being mortified by the sight of our legs when the stylist told me to look down. john’s legs were wAY smoother than mine. and so were his arms, chest, biceps, shoulders and toes. unlike me, he also had a perfectly manicured, sexy little stubble. i spent the entire appointment brooding about what john, SRK, salman, shahid, aamir, ranbir and all the other bollywood men with silky smooth legs would have to say about me. they’d probably cringe and laugh nervously, heh heh, before they avert their eyes. which would be drawn back and skitter away uncomfortably again - back and forth, inexorably, morbidly.
that haircut left me feeling like a werewolf.
it also made me realize how base and shallow i can be.
thirty, female, single, living in mumbai. i drink copious cups of filter coffee, collect the mandatory festival packs of chocolate, negotiate with the cats for a corner of the couch by the window and squash in between a pile of books, my lap top and a bowl of pop corn. then i have a long think about life. i get paid to do this. my remaining time i spend acquiring the life experience necessary to mastermind my mid life crisis. this i do not get paid to do, and can therefore do absolute justice to.