Lately, I have been craving gifts. Coming from me, that will be a huge shocker for my friends.
I have been swiping my credit card left, right and center. And waiting, like a hungry cheetah, on the great holiday sale. When my apartment will be swarmed by furniture, digital gadgets, books, books and more books. There is always charm in hard bound books. Kindle editions fail to impress me. But we shall talk about it some other time.
Btw, when was the first time you got a gift? Do you remember?
I can't say it was my first but one of the first gifts I got was this doll I could carry with me. It had blond hair, blue eyes and dressed in a yellow jumper suit.
In an effort to make it look more Indian (yes, as a kid I thought blond hair and blue eyes were overrated) I dyed its hair black. Wait for it...with a black sketch pen. Yes, I took the effort to sketch each hair on the doll's head. Also I sneaked into my mom's dresser and used her lipstick to smear all over the doll's mouth. Plus, I was secretly annoyed with the doll's ability to shut its eyes when it rested on its back and opened its eyes when it stood tall. So annoyed that I forcibly held her eyes open as it lay on the floor.
Needless to say, the verdict was out. Dolls were not meant to be.
My dad assumed there was something dysfunctional about me. He confessed to me later that he would think, "Why is she acting like a retard?"
Dolls were physically abused. Check.
M&M's were chewed and promptly trashed. Check.
Soft toys were abandoned and thrown from the first floor of my house straight into the mud (yes, I seemed to have done this). Check.
A beautiful pink frock ripped apart. Check.
Of course, my dad had to try, like any other good parent. He also understood my choice of apparel after some key observations. My wardrobe was revamped. I had two pair of blue jeans and a set of 6 t-shirts that said "HAPPY" on the front in different colors.
And then my lovely toys arrived.
(1) A big ass truck.
(2) A pink panther made of rubber that I could twist (I also had an accompanying song and dance movement I did as I carried it).
(3) And a boeing airplane replica. We were made to be.
My three awesome playmates.
Didn't I say, dolls are overrated?
I have been swiping my credit card left, right and center. And waiting, like a hungry cheetah, on the great holiday sale. When my apartment will be swarmed by furniture, digital gadgets, books, books and more books. There is always charm in hard bound books. Kindle editions fail to impress me. But we shall talk about it some other time.
Btw, when was the first time you got a gift? Do you remember?
I can't say it was my first but one of the first gifts I got was this doll I could carry with me. It had blond hair, blue eyes and dressed in a yellow jumper suit.
In an effort to make it look more Indian (yes, as a kid I thought blond hair and blue eyes were overrated) I dyed its hair black. Wait for it...with a black sketch pen. Yes, I took the effort to sketch each hair on the doll's head. Also I sneaked into my mom's dresser and used her lipstick to smear all over the doll's mouth. Plus, I was secretly annoyed with the doll's ability to shut its eyes when it rested on its back and opened its eyes when it stood tall. So annoyed that I forcibly held her eyes open as it lay on the floor.
Needless to say, the verdict was out. Dolls were not meant to be.
My dad assumed there was something dysfunctional about me. He confessed to me later that he would think, "Why is she acting like a retard?"
Dolls were physically abused. Check.
M&M's were chewed and promptly trashed. Check.
Soft toys were abandoned and thrown from the first floor of my house straight into the mud (yes, I seemed to have done this). Check.
A beautiful pink frock ripped apart. Check.
Of course, my dad had to try, like any other good parent. He also understood my choice of apparel after some key observations. My wardrobe was revamped. I had two pair of blue jeans and a set of 6 t-shirts that said "HAPPY" on the front in different colors.
And then my lovely toys arrived.
(1) A big ass truck.
(2) A pink panther made of rubber that I could twist (I also had an accompanying song and dance movement I did as I carried it).
(3) And a boeing airplane replica. We were made to be.
My three awesome playmates.
Didn't I say, dolls are overrated?
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