There are three kinds of women I have serious issues with. Thin women, tall women, and women with naturally straight hair. All for the same obvious reason. Shallowness.
Among the first kind, I am ready to let go of the ones who have to, had to, still work for it. See, these souls have earned it, because only I know how it feels to let go off that fifth piece of Swiss chocolate you could have picked, but did not. Or forego that rerun of Castle because you chose to go to gym instead. So these guys are forgiven, with a rare occasion where I dislike them for their will. But my real issue is with the ones with alien metabolism rates. Like this one friend I have, whose weight oscillates between, let’s just say, ‘me at my best minus 10’ and ‘me at my best minus 15’. Kilos, yes. For the smart-asses who will bring in BMI, bone weight and all, we are the same height, in fact she is slightly taller. And this, when she once chomped her way through 8 samosas along with another girl, each samosa big, and extremely delicious, after a full-fledged lunch. In front of me, while I nibbled my way through half a samosa wondering when I would be able to do those additional 30 minutes on the treadmill.
Then there are tall women. Walking around like they own the world, looking down upon us normal folks, literally. I don’t get it. Why do they get to be all model-like and effortlessly chic? In fact, foreigners I am still ok with. But why Indian women? Hello! Your average height is supposed to be 5 feet 3 inches, stick to it, will you? Don’t go about screwing up the balance with your long, skinny jeans clad (and in some worse off cases, shorts!) legs, it is not doing us average folks a favor. Also, these women, as if this unfair length of limbs is not enough, some of them will wear heels! Oh my God, the blasphemy! I mean, is there any limit to how much you want to tower over the rest of the world, really? I really think there should be height limit at shoe stores where women beyond a particular height should not be allowed to pick up any sort of heels, ever. That would teach them. Or at least help me.
Which brings us to women with straight hair. I don’t think this is the first time I am showing resentment against them. All of them, except the pretty woman my little Zo will turn out to be, with her silky straight hair, because I prayed for it. Yeah, so the pain of having untamable hair can only be understood by someone who 1) has been told she looks like Monica at Barbados 2) has been told her hair looks like water is gushing out of a pipe 3) has been asked if every day was a bad hair day. But obviously, I cannot fathom how anyone can have naturally silky hair, which they do nothing to manage. They will just flaunt it, looking awesome in any hair style, short or long, bangs or layers, complaining about how they are so bored that their hair always falls so straight! Really? Let me give you hair that defies gravity, that would be a nice change yes? Hmph. Also, it is beside the point that I have straight hair now, because people, I spend money, time, and around 4 hours in an uncomfortable chair, smelling of ammonia every year for that. So it doesn’t count.
But before I shock and startle those of you reading this, especially the ones who might be falling in one of these three categories, I should tell you that lately, I have started letting it go, and giving these extra lucky people a break. I am like, what can they do right, if God has been so generous with them? They just got it, it’s not that they asked for it. So I have started accepting them as human beings, by which I mean I do not mutter curses at everyone whose legs are 3/4ths their body or have hair which looks like it is from a Shampoo ad, or are eating a huge bowl of ice-cream from Cream Stone wearing size 24 jeans, anymore. Not every time, atleast. So if you are any of these lucky women I just spoke about, don’t get scared, I won’t bite you. Might just give you a disgusted look.
Except of course if you are tall, skinny and have straight hair, because then, I swear you’re better off not knowing me.