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When Life Goes Meow A.K.A My Siberian Whiskers!

Friday, February 21, 2014

I have started to feel rather feline these days. No no, my pleasantly curvy body has not gone all sinuous and lithe. I still can't wear a jumpsuit without the expectation to top that with a sunflower head for my niece's school show. I imagine wriggling into a tight catsuit might take considerably more effort. Ever tried to stuff a pillow into a slightly shrunk pillow cover? Get the picture? :).

I am not feeling so arrrr sexy either.  No claws to show off. Rather quite the opposite. I've got (hic)... I've got (sniff) .... I've got (wail) ...whiskers. Yes yes, it's true. I've been caught on the catgunya, calaria, cat pox. Whatever you want to call it.

I've got (whispers) whiskers.

Kill me. Kill me already.

So what am I rambling about you ask me? You see there comes a time in life, when every person finds that innocuous strand of white in their hair. Some people are even born with that glint of grey.  I know people with liberal sprinkling of white in their twenties. My sister sprouted one when she was just a teenager. So by that standard mine was way overdue. So it should be no big deal. Really.

Or that's what I thought.

I have been ready for it, some day all the chemicals on the hair had to show their true colour right? But what I was not ready for one morning as I stared into the mirror was a wily little Siberian on....

My upper lip.

My upper lip.

My UPPER lip.

My moustache has gone white!!

I SCREAMED.


And I wish I had could have fainted, but unfortunately I do not possess such feminine abilities. I can scream yeah. But even my screams are masculine, more like a lion's roar. No wonder life decided to reward me with the distinguished mark of manlihood. All I could do is stare into the mirror and scrub away what I thought might be that stray piece of lint. Maybe the bristle from my toothbrush got stuck there?? It can happen you know, if you are sleepily brushing away. Ha, don't act all high and mighty now. Don't tell me your brush never once missed the mark and landed on your upper lip, your nose, or your chin? Aye, aye, Liars! But that's not what we are talking about.

Once I did resignedly accept the gift of white, I went down to my mom.
"You've got two sons now," I said.
"What are you on about?" she asked.
"I've got whiskers..." I whispered sadly, pointing to the quivering siberian, that eluded my tweezer. You see it's hard to pluck out something that's almost transparent. Professional expertise is required.

She laughed.

I cried.

I walked into the parlour, the dejected but brave war heroine. Parlour aunty points to the rare sight of pimples on my face, "what happened? Jawani chalak rahi hai?"
"No aunty," I responded, "jawani is far off now, seems like old age has caught up with me four decades too soon." She looked at me impatiently.
"My hair's gone white," I explain.
"So, what's the big deal?" she asks.
"It's that hair." I return
"NO NO NO, don't tell me-" she starts
"Mtch," I am not in the mood for down under jokes. "My upper lip," I point out sadly.

She laughed.

I sighed. One finger twirling the mark of my manlihood.

My Siberian whisker. 






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