UP CM Mayawati may go down in history as the bag lady of the century, but I’m giving her a run for her money. Despite the fact that my figure can be described as a jolly sight more statuesque than hers (which is not saying much), and despite the fact that I have not commissioned statues of myself carrying ugly mummy handbags, I beat her hollow in the frump stakes. Faded tracks and tees are my thing. The more ghissa-pitta they are, the softer they feel and I lurve them. Better still, they make me look desperately poor and when I go for a haircut, the parlour ladies don’t make an attempt to coax me to get highlights, a perm, a platinum facial, whatever - they probably assume that my haircut was paid for by collections in my tin can at traffic signals. Very liberating!
Of course, on the rare occasions when I venture out for dinner or a movie, I dress up spectacularly – in my best faded pants and faded tees. Of late, Beloved Husband has started gasping, ‘You’re going out in that?’ He feels so strongly about it that a few weeks ago he tossed his ATM card at me (it missed me by a whisker) and gruffly said, 'Go to Esprit, go to Mango, go anywhere apart from Nike or Adidas, use all the money you need and BUY SOMETHING REMOTELY DECENT AT LEAST!’
I was shocked - never has he flung vast amounts of money at me before. Almost felt like a glamourous bar dancer. Meekly followed his instructions though, and bought a couple of things. Was too dazed to go the whole hog as instructed. Later, asked Best Friend if his reaction had been OTT. ‘Nope,’ she shook her head sadly while fiddling nervously with her fork (and refusing to look me in the eye), ‘I’ve, um, been meaning to talk to you about it too.’ A crushing et tu Brute moment for me.
So now, I’m seriously contemplating a makeover. Haven’t acted on it yet coz I’m still sulking with both of them (hey, it’s MY life), but mean to. Someday this year, perhaps. Let’s see.