Black dress

So this new year for some stupid reason I decided to wear a black dress, a tight off shoulder type thing from Marks and Spencer which unnecessarily cost a lot of money but for some reason when I saw myself in the trial room mirror by some magic I looked good to myself so I called Anshuman and asked-' Should I buy it?' He like always said,' Do you like it?' I said ' Yes' and that was the beginning of my pre new year.
I spent almost the entire day in the beauty parlour getting myself smoothened and shined and polished and buffed. Even got my hair done which is unusual for me. I came back home wearing at least thirty clips meant to hold the curls in place which incidentally is better than coming home with a head full of henna paste covered with a plastic bag. So I took off the clips and realised the small curls were a mistake. So I uncurled them which left my head in a mass of unruly big curls which was a slightly lesser mistake.
Then comes the act of make up. My foundation is as old as my marriage. The reason I haven't bought a new one is that everytime the sales woman suggests a shade it is always darker than the one I have. I am in denial about the fact that by some strange magic called time I have become darker. So I managed to take out enough foundation out of the bottle with the help of the wooden end of a paint brush. Then the blush then dark eyeshadow then light shiny eyeshadow then I looked everywhere for the eyeliner, I looked everywhere for the eyeliner and I couldn't find it. Finally I wore the dress and stood in front of Anshuman and asked,'How do I look? Do I look fat?'
He said,' You're not thin but you're not fat.'
That was good enough for me. ' And the make up? Too much? '
He said the foundation was a bit much. So I took off the dress, washed my make up. Stuck the paint brush in the bottle, did the blush, did the eye shadow and looked again for the eyeliner without any success. Finally I got approval so I wore my glasses, put on a shawl and we set off towards the New years' eve.
I soon realised that the dress was ripping from the side. I caught a reflection of myself in a mirror and later in the pictures one of which is above and realised the whole exercise was a mistake. It was too late by then so off we went to Wafi City for a party where the DJ had found the most unheard of songs with the exception of Summer of 69. I admire him for that as it must have taken him listening to obscure songs for a long time to come up with that song list. In any case everyone decided to leave and we landed up at Ananth's place. Everyone began grooving to hindi numbers when the neighbourhood cop ( he literally is a neighbour of Ananth) came up and said we couldn't play loud music so off went the music...the evening pretty much ended with Rajiv singing a couple of songs.
I came home and got out of the ripped dress and breathed a sigh of relief as I finished washing my face. I felt like myself again in my old nightdress. I fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning feeling absolutely comfortable.