Chiclit Yarns – 2

Oh well! When you’re out to party, you’re out to party.

The occasion demanded that I dressed to kill. But then, isn’t it weird to expect a bovine to turn into a doe overnight or what!

If your stood somewhere in a little slick corner, invisible and all, in that tempest of a room we called home; you’d notice that the only thing that didn’t fit in was me. It’s like the whole disarray was homage to the Queen of Melodrama that S was.

I sat dumbstruck in a corner, liner in one hand and a dark red lip color in the other; my hair were jostled tightly in rollers that were supposed to give their lackluster, bland self a semblance of curly delight. I watched her fuss over her closet, cussing and sighing alternately, invoking an angel to come to her rescue lest she ends up looking like a clod in the most happening party of the season!

A little warm smile spread over my face caged in an orange peel face pack; as I saw her jive and squiggle her cute huge butt when she found something that she thought could at least come close to give her the look she wanted to carry off the said night.

As she squealed and made weird guttural sounds coochie cooing her new found treasure, I realized that the warm smile on my face was soon turning into a full fledged grin! Damn! And why did my face feel like something was crusting-baking-crusting on it!

‘It’s nothing Dee! It’s just the face pack dryin’ on your face gurl! Now can you please wipe that terrified look off your face! And believe me it’s a warning sign that you should try acting like a girl more often! Ppfft! What girl gets so horrified with a face pack drying on her face!’

And she says all this without even once turning to look around or, for that matter even budging an inch from her formidable position before her closet! Whoa! Did this girl have eyes at the back of her head or something I wondered, impressed and all. And then I see the hidden full length mirror on the inside of her closet door!

I look into the mirror and see her face, grinning and winking at me like being dumb was something I pulled off better than anyone else could!

Whew! Whatever!

Life’s taught me that when in a sticky situation where either way you’re going to make a fool of yourself; do what would make you look a lesser fool. Ergo, I winked back at her grinning face sticking her tongue out at me and acting real goofy and all!

*sigh* Did I forgot to tell you that life with S wasn’t easy. It was impossible!

**********

I’ve never tried fitting into beige leather pants cut and stitched for someone a size smaller than me. And I didn’t know trying to fit into a leather corset was such a bitch! And a thong didn’t sound quite as appealing when I was actually asked to fit into its seamless nothingness! And a push up brassiere didn’t sound quite as promising when an annoyingly melodramatic S looks at my wilted frontal assets and clucked in deeply mournful tones, ‘Duh gurl! We need some serious anti-gravity measures for you! Where do you think they’re hiding?’

For someone who feels most comfortable in a worn out sweat and threadbare Levi jeans, this was a sort of coming of age!

I looked on bluntly while she nudged at my head to set it in weird angles; I knew she was a Pro. If there was anyone who could make me look like my antithesis, it was S and no one else.

I waited patiently while she worked on my face. Swift strokes on my cheeks and then practiced fingers flicking excess lip color from the corners of my lips. Wide strokes of kohl highlighting my small diffident eyes and a swab of mascara to give black a new meaning!

There was a minute of ennui and I knew she’d walked away from me to her closet to search out some junk from her endless collection to stud my face, ears, hangs, ankles etc etc.

She’s back even before I can count five and a burst of rapid fire moves and a loud smirk later she turns around and breaks into a silly freak dance move and gives me a loud smack on my head and she says, ‘You know, I could eat you! You look so hot!’

**********

I look at the girl staring back at me through the mirror and I’m like, ‘Whoa, who is this babe?’

She reads my bewildered expression and hugs me from behind. She says, ‘Ain’t you awesome?’

‘Hmm’, I say, too taken by the chick staring back at me; her eyes huge, unlike mine. Her lips swabbed with dark brown lip color that gives them an eddy, raw look. Her hair, a cascade of rebel curls that frame her oval face with high cheek bones that shimmer with a dull golden sheen; ears studded with little diamonds of varying size, a rust circular nose ring clipped to the nose and fingers glittering with rust colored rings that speak of glorious antiquity!

I step back and stare at the amulet that circles my arm; the swell of my breast and the curves that scream from under the corset that hugs me to death! The leather pants are something else! They’re like breathing, for God’s sake!

And the beige stilettos, they’re killer… and the golden rust choker studded on my neck is like screaming to be touched and given a release.

WOW! I look hot! Or is it really me?

S like had this habit of creeping up on me from behind and like go boooo or whatever. This time she uses her skill to real use.

She like walks up to me quietly and all and she says, ‘It’s really you babe *period* and NOW if you don’t buzz off, I’ll be late for the party and you can kiss your jilted-lover-dressed-to-kill-out-to-take-revenge dreams goodbye forever! So can I please?’

And she waits for me to give her back her space. And why did I forget? We’re dealing with a homophobic drama queen here who can’t take being second in line for too long.

Suddenly I’m like mighty bored with all of this and I walk up to the bed and try to like sit… Well, fitting into the pants wasn’t quite as ordeal as trying to sit with them sticking to my skin like they were sewed all over them!

Phew! Things girls will do to get even with cheat boy friends from hell!

**********

Why did I even bother to think that for once I was really dressed!

Standing next to S it feels like I’m off to visit Sunday School!

How can the girl walk in those things! What, are they like seven inches high or what! And her skimpy strapless black dress barely leaves much to imagination but then she wont be S if there’s much left to imagination anyway!

Phew!

And it’s so gross standing out here waiting for a bunch of rowdy teenagers to drive in and deposit us to the war site! eewww… why does everything feel so phony suddenly! It’s like this ain’t me, isn’t it? I mean I wasn’t ever the revengeful, drama queen types who loved to hop on into open gypsies and canter off to late night parties… then what the hell am I doing her standing on the sidewalk; almost getting choked in an outfit from hell, waiting for a bunch of drunken losers to drive in and carry me off!

This is not me!!!

‘Babe, what’s that look?’ she asks me. She’s not comfortable herself but it can’t be more than a sore ear lobe that can be worrying her!

I feel like puking out the whole realization thing that’s dawning in on me suddenly but something warns me that this just isn’t the time to piss her off. Not after what she’d put in terms of effort to give me this new punk look that’s definitely earned me a good many turned heads than I could ever garner in all the years I hung around this place in a ripped of sweat and faded jeans!

‘Everything okay?’ she asks as she settles her cape over her shoulders and fidgets uncomfortably on her tall heels!

‘uhh uhh,’ I say and look around tryin’ to put my mutinous thoughts in words.

Too late.

Look who’s here.

Two blaring gypsies turn around the bend and I can see colored heads bob up and down; jiving to the music and err… open cans of beer and what not! *sigh* Saturday night fever, what else?

Right above me, an old aunty types peeps out of her first floor apartment and looks on with petrified eyes as two scandalous gypsies screech at a halt right under her peaceful abode or what once used to be, peaceful!

‘Hey babe, look at you! You’ll bring party on!’ a little rogue punk with a shaven head and tattooed neck screams from within the crowd.

S beams. Nothing turns her on like compliments.

Then she grabs my hand and pulls me into what looks like a band of outlaws out to wreck the universe and more, if there is more!

I scuttle behind S and jump into one of the open gypsies. A hand slips under my buttocks and instinct dictates that I snub the perpetrator.

Then I remember I’m out to party.

And that everything’s fair in love, and war, and in the hottest party of the season.

I get into the groove. The face of the little puke of a boy friend swims before my eyes as I thrash around for a beer and the music feeds my soul and the need for revenge.

I scream and make dopey faces at the little prettified aunty still cowering behind her window.

Freak out! Is the mantra and I down the beer with swift gulps; and the gypsy splutters into motion!

Welcome to the Party!

(To be continued)