Diary Entry 22
If there is one thing I hate doing with mom, its shopping. But every time I come home, she always manages to drag me along to go shop. She knows, if she tells me that she wanted to go pick up some clothes for the baby who was born in the next street, I will whine and make a fuss. But instead, if she tells me we are going out to eat in a exotic restaurant, I will be more than willing to go with her. Her trick to making me come, is to make it sound as if its all about me and it works every time.
Of course its not all about me. As a matter of fact a very small portion of the time spent shopping is about me. On our way to this exotic place she promised to take, she will say, "Eda, lets pick up some groceries on the way. It will take only 5 mins". So I agree to go to the grocery store only to realize that she has written a book of things she wants to buy and stock up in the house. I grab a part of the list and move around the shop in light speed and pick out the things she wrote down. When everything in the list has been placed in carry bags, I do a delicate balancing and weight lifting act and carry everything to the counter for billing. I dont stop there. I help the counter akka to bill, pack and take the bags and put it into the car. Of course the only reason why I am doing all this is because I want to get out of the place and go to the restaurant, FAST. All this is was a part of my clever mothers scheme of getting her things done while stopping me from complaining. She knows if we went to the restaurant first and then went to shop for groceries, I will be snoring in the car instead of helping her. But instead, if she did it the opposite way, she can be a proud mother of the son everybody including the billing akka will look in admiration for being so responsible and caring.
When we finally go to the restaurant I try my best to order everything in the menu. For some reason my mother always watches me when I eat and doesnt touch the food herself. She might occasionally sip some water, when she starts doubting if I am her son. When eating is done and when all the excitement of having food in the fancy Thai restaurant is over, I start seeing through my mother's clever scheme and how she cleverly brought me with her to shop. She told me yesterday that, "We are going out to eat and do a little shopping." But shopping can never be little, can it?
Now that we done everything we can go home right? But there are several clothes stores on the way back and clothes showrooms are like temples. We have to go pay homage to each one of them even if we dont buy anything. So we go to each brand showroom that we see on the way. If I think shopping is hell, then shopping for clothes is like burning in a pit of fire. Its rarely ever about her clothes. Its always my clothes she wants to get which makes it all the more worse. Taking me to shop for clothes is like taking a Atheist to a church, we cant stand every minute we spend in the place. What I dont understand is why we need to stop for clothes after each time we eat in a restaurant? When you are stuffed and when your stomach is so full of food, all you want to do is lie down and fall asleep. But my mother has other plans for me. I have to try on each shirt that they have in the shop and say if I like it. Its my mothers way of helping me digest all the food, I guess. Its like a fashion show, I have to put on a shirt and go pose, then go put on another shirt and then pose again. We dont even buy half of the things I try on (sometimes we dont buy anything at all). Whats the point trying them on in the first place? My mothers argument - "We dont come out often, so lets buy when everything when we can". Sheesh, the other ladies in the family are a lot worse I hear. How much more worse can it get?
When I came home this time, I was the one who wanted to buy the clothes. I wanted to get some formal clothes so that I could sit for campus placements. We went inside and came out of 5 major brand showrooms but we did not find anything that we wanted. I was told that getting a tie would be a good idea but who would have thought shopping for one single tie could be so hard. The ties available were all too ostentatious for our taste. The flashy ties was not the the least of our problems. All the shirts were too big for me because I was too thin. They would have fit me perfectly, if I had some muscles. Tiered of searching, I tell my mother that we will just get something stitched. My mother on the other hand was still full of energy and gave dialogues like, "I want you to have something polished and ready made to wear for your interview." There are sometimes when I regret being the only son to my parents. This is one of them. When we went into the 4th store, she was as tiered as I was and was more open to the idea of having something stiched. She was so bored with checking out clothes for me that she went to the girls section and started looking at the skirts and frocks there. I go sit in a chair nearby exhausted. Suddenly she turns to me and says, "If only I had a girl". Fed up with the world, I tell her that if finding clothes to wear for a interview is going to be so hard then I dont want a job and will make a living as a Entrepreneur.
In the end I did not have to take such drastic steps. I finally did get something that fitted me and it also satisfied my mother's baseless requirements of being polished and ready made. The tie was still flashy but we picked the one which was the least gaudy. I come home exhausted. Three hours of shopping and I spend the next 10 hours sleeping. I sleep with the hope I dont have to do this again. But you know what they say - Pain and Pleasure is a cycle.
Previous Post - How the lazy reader was frustrated by Potter, angered by Twilight and mocked because of Chetan Baghat
If there is one thing I hate doing with mom, its shopping. But every time I come home, she always manages to drag me along to go shop. She knows, if she tells me that she wanted to go pick up some clothes for the baby who was born in the next street, I will whine and make a fuss. But instead, if she tells me we are going out to eat in a exotic restaurant, I will be more than willing to go with her. Her trick to making me come, is to make it sound as if its all about me and it works every time.
When we finally go to the restaurant I try my best to order everything in the menu. For some reason my mother always watches me when I eat and doesnt touch the food herself. She might occasionally sip some water, when she starts doubting if I am her son. When eating is done and when all the excitement of having food in the fancy Thai restaurant is over, I start seeing through my mother's clever scheme and how she cleverly brought me with her to shop. She told me yesterday that, "We are going out to eat and do a little shopping." But shopping can never be little, can it?Now that we done everything we can go home right? But there are several clothes stores on the way back and clothes showrooms are like temples. We have to go pay homage to each one of them even if we dont buy anything. So we go to each brand showroom that we see on the way. If I think shopping is hell, then shopping for clothes is like burning in a pit of fire. Its rarely ever about her clothes. Its always my clothes she wants to get which makes it all the more worse. Taking me to shop for clothes is like taking a Atheist to a church, we cant stand every minute we spend in the place. What I dont understand is why we need to stop for clothes after each time we eat in a restaurant? When you are stuffed and when your stomach is so full of food, all you want to do is lie down and fall asleep. But my mother has other plans for me. I have to try on each shirt that they have in the shop and say if I like it. Its my mothers way of helping me digest all the food, I guess. Its like a fashion show, I have to put on a shirt and go pose, then go put on another shirt and then pose again. We dont even buy half of the things I try on (sometimes we dont buy anything at all). Whats the point trying them on in the first place? My mothers argument - "We dont come out often, so lets buy when everything when we can". Sheesh, the other ladies in the family are a lot worse I hear. How much more worse can it get?
When I came home this time, I was the one who wanted to buy the clothes. I wanted to get some formal clothes so that I could sit for campus placements. We went inside and came out of 5 major brand showrooms but we did not find anything that we wanted. I was told that getting a tie would be a good idea but who would have thought shopping for one single tie could be so hard. The ties available were all too ostentatious for our taste. The flashy ties was not the the least of our problems. All the shirts were too big for me because I was too thin. They would have fit me perfectly, if I had some muscles. Tiered of searching, I tell my mother that we will just get something stitched. My mother on the other hand was still full of energy and gave dialogues like, "I want you to have something polished and ready made to wear for your interview." There are sometimes when I regret being the only son to my parents. This is one of them. When we went into the 4th store, she was as tiered as I was and was more open to the idea of having something stiched. She was so bored with checking out clothes for me that she went to the girls section and started looking at the skirts and frocks there. I go sit in a chair nearby exhausted. Suddenly she turns to me and says, "If only I had a girl". Fed up with the world, I tell her that if finding clothes to wear for a interview is going to be so hard then I dont want a job and will make a living as a Entrepreneur. In the end I did not have to take such drastic steps. I finally did get something that fitted me and it also satisfied my mother's baseless requirements of being polished and ready made. The tie was still flashy but we picked the one which was the least gaudy. I come home exhausted. Three hours of shopping and I spend the next 10 hours sleeping. I sleep with the hope I dont have to do this again. But you know what they say - Pain and Pleasure is a cycle.
Previous Post - How the lazy reader was frustrated by Potter, angered by Twilight and mocked because of Chetan Baghat
