My days went by working in the publishing house where I had acquired quite an interesting post and an even more interesting work profile. "Interesting" purely in terms of having a manager who would make sure that you have a strict and restricted environment. Talking to colleagues for more than a prescribed amount of time was not allowed (time limit was 1 minute... not more)! Well the numbers were never given in writing but the method of making one understand the importance of time and space made one realise the grave mistake committed by way of spending time asking a colleague about her birthday party.
Anyway, the magazine I worked for invested, generated and promoted wedding related news, views, features, vendors, suppliers and what-not of the wedding scenario. We are not talking about the Big Fat Indian weddings of which I'm the biggest fan alive; but the modern, sophisticated and small gathering weddings where the rings are exchanged amidst a few people making it easier to get divorced without answering 1000+ guests who attended the wedding (or in this case, did not attend the wedding)!
The launch party of the magazine was due and before the big bang entry into the world of white gowns and suited men my Manager decided to have a team photoshot done professionally.
"We have to look our best!", she said. She can definitely say that! For someone to whom a weekend is a gift from heaven and all that's done during these two days is follow Lord's words- eat, drink and be merry, it can be very difficult to drag oneself out of bed and get "pretty" dressed for the shoot!
Not to mention the fact that on a lazy weekend afternoon, I not only had to gather myself to get dressed but also had to carry another pair of clothing in case I was considered too ugly to be photographed! This thought is not due to the sadist thinking that I'm an ugly duckling (matter-of-fact, am a pretty good looking chick, "
in my own way"...lolzzz this complicates everything!) My dear Manager wanted the best! One has to oblidge such demands. No one would like to get fired because they dress ill... Would you?
I wore my cream trousers, red blouse and white glimmering jacket and showed up for the shoot. Two photographers, one videographer, my Manager, another colleague were already present. I was the last one to arrive and also the only one to be laser scanned by the Lady! So the look was the same kind an old, ancient grandmother would give a firangi (white-skinned foreigner- pardon my racist explanation but a literal translation was of prime importance!) dressed in skimpy clothes and about to enter the holy Ganga for a bath. I was stripped nacked by her mere look and all she said once I was in hearing distance was, "Go change!"
So pensively I shook my head and immediately reverted, " That's what I was about to do!" I turned around and gave a huge sign. Alas! All my prayers were in vain and here I was marching like a half-dead tigress towards the bathroom.
Once I entered the bathroom and admired myself in what I had worn and cursed her, I settled down on the top of a toilet closet to change into my beautiful skirt. That's when I saw it. The jungle. Growing on my legs. Blamed it own work, life, laziness and
I wished I had opted for hair removal.
Embarrassed to the core, I wore the skirt, the matching shirt and accessories. Retouched the make-up and took a last look at my face which had already started to dull thinking of the impending comments from my lovely colleagues and manager.
I went into the room where the shoot was scheduled. Everyone was seated on the sofa and chairs spread across the room and as I approached the room I quickly scanned for a place which could positively hide my wolverine look. To my surprise the best place was beside my Manager and that's where I marched to. Photographer zoomed in can noticed my beautifully covered legs from afar- Embaressment one. Colleague was giggling beneath her breath- Embaressment two. Manager saw my legs as I was sitting down beside her and she shouted out loud for everyone to hear loud and clear- "Ah! Babes what's this??? Don't show-off your virgin legs!!!!"
All the world came crashing down. I was nose deep in shame and humiliation and unlike the stories grandmom read to me, the heroine neither woke up from her sleep to realise it was a nightmare nor did a knight in silver armour save the damsel in distress. I, the herione of this episode sat there, looking all disgusted, throughout the entire time people looked, giggled, murmured and went on about their work.
Now, at my office I have a beautiful pet name- "Virgin legs". My policy is- If you can't wipe out something, live it with complete pride! That's what I do... But literally speaking, I wipe out all the unwanted, bloody hair with a wretched cream the moment I see a new demon rising.
Here's the photograph ultimately used- hiding all my flaws and problem areas!! Yey!!!
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