You've Changed

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Have you heard people saying you've changed a lot personally when you meet them after a long time? Or seeing your pictures in social medial and messaging and calling to tell you the same? I've heard that a lot from acquaintances in the past few years.

No, I'm of the same height, weight a little heavier. I've not grown any additional limbs, ears, or tentacles either. My skin, hair and eye colour the same. I speak the same language with same dialect. I'm the same introvert, opinionated, level-headed person how I was 10 or 20 years ago. My views, believes, opinions, and attitude the same, only more broadened and liberated. So what makes them think I've changed?

My dressing and style, which according to them is mod, hip, and chic. They could have said I've got a makeover. No, they deduced my personality with the way I dress. It is the social conditioning and classic stereotyping. I can only feel sorry for their pretty minds. However, it used to embarrass, shock, and confuse me in the beginning. Now I just smile and say "you mean my dressing and style, not personality". That in return confuses, shocks, and embarrasses them. I call it the art of table turning.

I was born and raised in a small town in the coastal Karnataka. It goes without saying coastal people of the State are the most progressive, broad-minded, and no-nonsense kind. However, they are becoming the opposite in the recent years is what I could gather with few interactions. I may be wrong as I can't generalize the entire population. I digress.

I got my nose pressed at the tender age of 9. It wasn't traditional and nobody even mentioned to do it. In fact it was me who cried, begged, and persisted until I got what I wanted. And at 17 I threw the nose ring off. At 6 my parents wanted to keep my hair short, the bob cut it was called. I wanted long, shiny, silky hair like my mother and they let me have my way.

I was very proud doning string of different flowers on my thick, oiled plaited mane. A few self-named girls made fun of it at school and I couldn't care less. What they know about a lady who painstakingly go through the process of gardening, plucking flowers, tying them into a string the previous evening, plaiting my hair the next morning, and bobby pinning the flowers onto it every single day without a fail. That is my Ammamma. I maybe anything, but insensitive I'm not. Until 12th standard it was strictly uniform to school. Then I moved to another small town for my college, where everyone was wearing traditional clothes and I did the same. Oh, none of them were fashionistas. 

So what happened once I moved to Bangalore? I got a job, started earning, and I was independent. I had this preconceived notion that certain clothes doesn't suit my petite form. So, I started experimenting with clothes and surprisingly they all suited me well. Big cities always have the advantage of giving you the confidence to be who you are. I knew very well small towns are really not a place to wear teeny-tiny clothes especially in India. And I was very much against the idea of splurging parents' hard-earned money on anything other than what was necessary. I've a wish to wear a bikini, which is next to impossible in Indian beaches. So, I intend to sport one in our next international trips. Does that make me bolder? I don't think so.

Maybe I was unfashionable and uncool in others' definitions. But I'm glad I was just that. I always get to live the best of both the worlds, passé and eleganté. And for the critics I'm unapologetic if I've just stopped acting the way you wanted me to.