Thursday, June 18, 2009

My watermelon dress.

After twenty years, maybe this dress wouldn't fit me anymore. This holds for a celebration after all. It feels good to have outgrown wearing half a watermelon around my neck. It is a pretty dress, sure, but I sincerely think that for its a little too kiddish for an eight year old. Yes, kiddish. I have better ideas of a wardrobe that would suit me. I've started reading Mom's cosmopolitans secretly now. They have great ideas about hair and skin and everything you could imagine. They indulge too much into boys though. That's something I dont really appreciate. I think the entire male species are arrogant and irritating. That's what I think though. These pretty girls on the covers cant get enough of them though. It's annoying.

My parents have always been very supportive of me being enthusiastic that way, but they would still put on limitations on a lot of things. For instance, my mother thought I was too young to read Anne frank's diary and she made me keep the book down at the store! But I, the owner of the entire hardy boys' collection, told her indignantly ( a word I learned in the papers today),
" Mom, Cmon, I can relate to Anne, she is like me, just a tad bit older who speaks better english!"
But Mom wouldn't hear any of it and now I have to keep reading Enid Blyton.

My mother always speaks of my childhood, of how I fell here and how I hit my head there. She once told me about my name, "Aaina", she kept this name for me because she thought I was her reflection. "Aaina" means the mirror in Hindi by the way. I thought this was quite true. We had the same nose, same hair texture, we even had the same smile. Plus she also keeps a diary. I wonder what she writes. Maybe about dad. If yes, then we shall have that in common too!

I've rambled too much and went off track I guess. My watermelon dress. Yes. Why it holds significance here is because I'm too old for it. I'm getting a little too conscious about how pink my room is, how well my curtains look, and how many stuffed toys are lying around in every corner. I wish i could tell my parents to change things for me now. I'm eight. I'm old and I'm a girl. I have needs. It's very funny sometimes that's why, when my Mom thinks that I need to be supervised for everything I do. From playing on the PC to watching TV. It seems very foolish now. Meh.

Not that I completely amuse myself with being old and wise. I liked being a kid. It was pampering enough. So now what I do is, I empty my drawers and remove my half a watermelon dress and surrender it to my mother. She wont take it well. But I think I should take a pair of scissors too. I don't really mind keeping the watermelon to look at, after twenty years.