A stole around my neck, hair parted on the side and pulled back on the left, held in place by a hair pin. An off shouldered buckled top that sits precariously on the bend of the shoulder, tottering between sexy (for me) and outrageous (for Indian me)..hehehe!! I stand in front of the mirror looking at myself. I smile as I pose for an invisible camera, wrinkle my eyebrows as I prepare to answer a deeply thoughtful question to a non existent reporter. And then I laugh! I could be twenty four, but in front of that mirror, I was fourteen, all over again. And then the thought struck me. Am I not a teenager? A teenager of the adult years?
I know the child in me would always live. In spite of polluted, angry, resentful, painful, agonized, tearful, regretful and what not experiences, that child, lives on. But, that really is not the point. The point is, remember how, during those teenage years, we could never really understand what we were? Adults or children? I was always confused. When I behaved like a child, I was asked to grow up. And when I pulled myself to my full height and actually behaved like an adult, I was asked to act my age (must make a mental note of never ever torturing my children that way!) I feel in similar circumstances.
Twenty four. Too young to make big decisions. Too old not to start making big decisions. Talk about being oxymoronish!
But, it’s a lot of fun, you know! I am thinking, when I am thirty, I would be like, am I younger or young? Then at thirty five it would be, am I young or about to be more than a youngster and when I am forty – Hey! Life begins at forty!
Ps: I think I've completely lost it. I hold my Finance classes responsible for this.