Saturday, October 4, 2008

Another sunday cometh and sloth's back in fashion


i am in trouble. of the deep, deep sort. because i'm becoming lazier by the day and crazier by the night, for that is when i take stock of the day of a thousand procrastinations and enter my very own private hell.

As the unread newspapers pile up on my coffee table, random thoughts and article inspirations are jostling for breathing space like people in a DDA cheap housing scheme queue. Yet, i can't clear the backlog fast enough through the half-open window of my working side of the brain to prevent them from pushing up against each other in a desperate scramble for attention. Disheartened, many have left, and i am sorely tempted to put up a sign, true sarkari style, saying "Out to Lunch", to shoo off the stubborn ones.

Enter: sunday.

Another one to the rescue.

You can imagine the extent of my slothful transgressions when i tell you that it's taken me three whole sundays to complete one painful cycle of preserving what's left of my youth, and the tattered shreds of my vanity are highly offended. I mean, one poor Sunday and four limbs to wax, two eyebrows to painfully prune, two feet, a pair of hands and all of twenty fingernails to pamper, not to mention the daily ablutions that keep the rest of the 'best face forward' in working order!

Yes, ALL this in a country full of men who are back to balking at the word 'metrosexual'. The much-vaunted concept seems kinda on the way out, along with male manicures and papa pedicures. To be fair to the Indian male, he's retained some of it, albeit highly selectively. So, while pink-the-new-blue is here to stay, the candy coloured shirts are back to acting as windows to hairy souls infested with a tola of gold chainees, while the proud pappi in pink is back to prowling the streets in Papaji's Pajero with crusty soles.

So, i'm going all Euro-sexual this week. No visits to that high temple of superficial splendour, aka the neighbourhood beauty parlour. No desi homemade stinkies on the face a la facade al fresco... whatever that meant! Basically, i'm vegging out, (pun definitely intended, it is navratras!) and reading on and uglying in. I know i'll have to pay a heavy price for my reckless behaviour requiring some extreme damage control, but what the heck!

Vanity enslaves. And THAT is exactly the truth behind assertions that it's a man's world. They haven't surrendered. Thus they rule. And it's time for me to reclaim my tiny space. Not to mention my day job.

Oh, slothful sunday, here i come!

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