Okay, enough of brooding and sulking, I told myself yesterday, after more than a month in the dark hole attempting to get a grip of life skills.
I need to do everything convincingly, if not at least, symbolically. So I stood before the mirror and spoke to myself. After the self-pep talk, I immediately noticed the flaws in me, which is not because of a lack of self-motivation, rather because I am a WOMAN, wholesome at that! My nails felt like claws. I could grate carrot on my nose and the less said about my sole the better.
BTW, I have this thing about my feet. My mom always says, “A woman’s feet speaks about her home. If a woman cannot keep her feet neat, how the hell can you expect her to keep her home clean?”
So, dinner could wait. Anyways, I need no reason in particular to keep away from the kitchen. The husband was happy as he saw me chirpy when he returned home and couldn’t care if he had to order food and our girl was the happiest that she could have her junk.
So I head to the parlour, dip my feet in warm water and hand over my head to another and my hands to a third.
The girls got talking. The one handling my arms, exclaimed, “Maddaam you have nice arms. You can wear sleeveless without worry.” It was a compliment that came my way in a long long while. I immediately felt buoyant like riding on a steep bridge at high speed, that I sat basking on which dress to choose to flaunt my freshly-massaged arms.
I returned to their conversation mid-way when one of them asked me, “Where do you stay, maddaam?”
Giving the details, I queried, “Why do you ask?”
The three girls resumed talking in their tongue, before one translated for me. “There is no Filipino supermarket near there maddaam.”
“I don’t shop in any of them, anyways,” I replied.
“No maddaam. You get Tawas stone. Your underarms dark no maddaam. The skin colour become fair…” I slid off the bridge in the same gear. “I get for you.”
Later, I hit the gym. I was on a positive overstock. One of the trainers, who initially taught me how to walk right [http://bit.ly/1nR3PB6], came talking, while I was on the treadmill. Seeing him, I increased the speed, lest he assess my gait again. I was mentally preparing to ward off his suggestions, when I heard him say, “You have a well-maintained body…” Those words got me so light-headed that I lost him in between, “…like a sportsperson.”
“Really!” I asked.
“You doubt?” he countered.
Now, I was trying hard to check my cheeks, lest he catches me blushing. I was so thrilled that I jumped off the treadmill and climbed on the cross-trainer. Compliments can instantly increase your stamina, I realised.
“Good, you’ve improved a lot,” he said, following me and I peddled harder.
“Take two sessions; we can improve your core strength…”
“What?” so he was canvassing after all.
“But didn’t you just say I have a sportspersons body!” I asked releasing my hand, in a show of expertise to quell any doubt he may harbour.
He laughed loud and clarified, “You didn’t hear me right. I said, you can have a well-maintained body, if you work with me, in fact, we can make it a sportsperson’s…”
I stepped down, stretched like a cat and gulped half-a-bottle of water in one go as if that would wash away my embarrassment for the day.