16? No, 24!

Stomach, meet butterflies.

"What was my last album called?"

Sweet.

Don't we all want a giraffe that talks?

The Monsoon's Dramatic Farewell

The sky to my right

The sky to my left

At 6: 43 pm, the monsoon bid us a dramatic farewell.

Umm

Conversation inside my head:

Question: Is this a good time to tell you I like you?
Response: Are you getting your period?

Sundays: Three Hours with my Closest Ally

The yoga mat has changed thrice.
The floor, multiple times.
The size and repulsiveness of bony feet has stayed uniform.
And this is how three hours of every Sunday/weekly holiday has been spent since 2006.

Football Fragility

Everytime Manchester United loses a match I have to make a mental note to start certain conversations with, "Hey baby, how was the match?" in a sweet-curious-concerned tone of voice instead of "Dude, how was the match? Did your team lose?" followed up with loud snorty laughter.

9/11

On a somewhat unrelated note, "When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaky feeling you'll find that love actually is all around."
On a somewhat related note, I'm going to bed sending some love, good vibes and full power to everyone who lost someone on 9/11.
On a very related note, suck it Al Qaeda.

Sketchbook Tee Dress

I would wear this look in a heart beat.

Pity that the Sketchbook Tee Dress is $58. And that we'll never have weather that's scarf, socks and shoes friendly.

But awesome that they actually make these tshirt dresses in India because that means I can get this screen printed, put on a flimsy black jacket and never get out of it.

Here is more of Alexa Chung's collection for for Madewell.

Yum Yum and Parallel Parking

I'd hate it if I got crushed by a ham, man!
Made by the super fun people at Yum Yum London.

On Dressing like a Boy

Servicing Guy + Servicing Lady + Pregnant Servicing Lady + Copywriter conversing at work

Servicing Lady: She needs an intervention. She said something like “I like dressing like a boy and I'm totally loving confusing my sex right now" yesterday.
Servicing Guy: Why?
Copywriter: Someone tried to grope her when she was in a rickshaw a few days ago.
Pregnant Servicing Lady: What? That doesn’t happen.
Copywriter: Well…it happened to her!
Pregnant Servicing Lady: What? Really? It’s never happened to me.
Servicing Guy: You’re just not that hot.
Pregnant Servicing Lady: Maybe not right now.
Everyone: *awkward silence*
Pregnant Servicing Lady making a comeback: But mine are bigger. Right now.
Everyone: *awkward silence*

End of Conversation

What the Servicing Guy forgot to say: Yeah. But not bigger than your tummy.

Consistency

Excerpts from down, dirty and damn straight (convincing) conversations with the ols while making plans to watch lame detective shows together before diving into a week of family time and festivity.

# This morning I’m wearing an ass you want to eat for breakfast everyday

# My ass will turn your knees to jelly

P.S: It worked. Ass power.

To Hoard or Not To Hoard aka But Then Again...

I never know what to do with pretty clothes that don't fit me.
Like this fiery short skirt I picked up at one of those thrift shops a few months ago.
Its silk, has checks in very lovely colours and a thick, black satin tie back belt around the waist.

Now, here's the thing; when I bought it, it just about fit me.
But I assumed I would stay the same size wise or accept the discomforts that come with garments that 'just about fit' for at least a few hours. Turns out, I'm very averse to discomfort even when it comes to clothes. As a result, every time I've taken it out to wear it, I put it back in thinking it wont be comfy enough if I drink too much or eat too much or basically because it might look like a tutu.
So I thought of giving it away.

But then again, here's the dilemma.
I have held on to stretch denim shorts (1997 ya'll!) from the time I was 13 and worn them to a gig a few weeks ago. I have held on to corduroy shorts from the time I was 18 and worn it to the beach a few months ago. Which means, I'm hoping that, like before, my waist will shrink or the skirt will magically expand or Vogue will tell us that tutus are now haute couture.

But then again, since reality won't always give in to my demands and the chances of any of the above happening are largely minimal, I will resort to the very obvious... Wrapping this prettiness in clean white paper and continuing to hold it hostage... till tutus go mainstream.