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Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Howz me???

I just spared some time to ask myself, Howz me, honey? I happened to visit the washroom, and in front of the mirror, here's me - all dull and eyes popped out, hair undone, and an ongoing smirky expression.
Reminded me of my carefree, college days, when I happened to dress up magnetically attractive...facing the mirror and favoring the mirror to face a beautiful face of  mine, in turn. It was something the mirror owes me, till date. I couldn't help asking at that point of time, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the prettiest of all?" and the mirror would promptly give me a reflectional nod; stating how pretty I was. Decked up, dolled up, carrying a wide-wide grin to enable the dimple on my chin protrude. Huh! alas! those were the days, my friend!

And I rushed to my workstation to blog this, write about the beauty - concealed within the tired eyes, the pinkness of my cheeks - layered under the patchy browns.                                                                  

I tried splashing water over my face (careful to not waste much) in vain. I realized the pampering I needed. I am about to leave for home anytime now, to watch from my very own weary eyes the India-Pak semi-finals today, again to forget my very own dreaded look, I just witnessed. Never mind, I know for sure, it retains itself, when I dress up for my man! I glow at the slightest touch of his...even when he is cheering the cricket team or simply smiling at me; as if for my affirmation on how well a player Sachin is, or for that matter, how great a fan is he himself.

And then, I shall look into the mirror again and my image is going to be that of the most beautiful, newly-wed bride. Wuv! I am sooo much in love! Whoz old? I am a teen, just worked up a bit currently, and am going to regain my child-like laugh in an hour on the couch with him, watching the semi-finals...oh! by the way, did I mention I loathe the game. My vocal words have to stress themselves to utter the word 'cricket' and the moment it releases my tongue of the suffocation that poor little one had to carry with the word, a gush of air, 'Oooo'd' by my mouth, relieves itself. But I suddenly sense the earlier unexplored "fun" part of the game with Arun, my husband.

I also retrieve myself and regain my womanly charm, the feminine gestures of my hands, I cannot lay my eyes off, and feel the beauty of my knot-released hair...even when i bun it, to wash my tired face, i realize it was gone, like never there. Love IS a BEAUTY-ful miracle. Arun knows the spell and i am spelled.

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