Fashion conflicts with the woman who popped me out of her!!

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It’s always like that I think.. .Mothers asserting maternal rights on their offspring….  I always have to wear colors and clothes of my mother’s choice…(at least the traditional ones)… every time I do something t...

It’s always like that I think.. .Mothers asserting maternal rights on their offspring….  I always have to wear colors and clothes of my mother’s choice…(at least the traditional ones)… every time I do something to my hair , even if that  includes just trimming- I have to take her consent.. My locks are present on my skull -the skull that resides on top of my body…but they are owned by her…at least she claims so… that claim is just a resultant of she oiling my hair vigorously and tirelessly all my school years…

I am 24. TWENTY-FUCKING-FOUR!! Every time I scream “IT IS MY BODY” she yells “THE BODY THAT I GAVE BIRTH TO  …SO SHUT UP”…she was in her mid-thirties when I was born… so obviously she belongs to a whole another generation …Our choices never match…her choices- are hideous, proof-pick out any of my childhood photos and you will see for yourself. My Dresses look like the resultant of a sewing machine being blown off!!…of course unlike today’s 4 year old kids…the 4 year old kids in 1995 had no brains or even an idea about fashion…so that territory was governed by their parents (by default) including all the other territories as well. Anyways, today, 20 years later at least I have the liberty of demanding for a mutual settlement over buying anything that is supposed to be adorned on my body (which apparently doesn’t belong to me)…but since I have turned out to be (according to my mom) a stubborn, adamant, irritating, ‘zero -fashion- sense’ girl who never agrees to anything without an argument, she has given in to agreeing to me partially in all the shopping conflicts…so all the Desi Stuff  I own is the result of mutual agreement or mutual compromise(read: conflicts, wars and fights)…

Now I earn – but that hasn’t changed anything. There is nothing like “oh my daughter brought me something from her first salary-that is so sweet”… the only thing that exists is “I don’t like the color…replace it” or sometimes when I am lucky I do get a “ok not bad…I will keep it”…but again who doesn’t have fights with their mothers?… people we fight the most are actually the people we love the most. Somehow, in a weird fashion, I am in love with these fights that I have with her…they feel home. My life is in fact made of the little perks she adds to it!! I can understand the “possessiveness” of a mother who had her child after thirteen years of her marriage- her first child  … and so I am not complaining…cause every cell of my body knows that at this moment there is nobody on the face of this planet who would love me more than this woman who popped me out of her body….

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