CantthinkofanameforthisbloG

Men, much like myself often think that accompanying a girl to the lingerie section of a shop must be a world of fun. Now who amongst us has not snuck a quick peek into the lingerie section of a store while casually strolling past with a look of pronounced nonchalance?  … Fine just me then.. anyway, you ladies have to realize, the lingerie section is taboo for men. Its no mans land.. The lingerie section is like a clothing Shangri-La. You have all heard about it but very few men have actually ventured past its mythical shelves packed with unmentionables in strange shapes and sizes. The walls covered with posters that would make a boys hostel room blush and the strangest of all, staff that seem perfectly comfortable selling what can only be described as left over bits of fabric. Yes the lingerie section of a store is a strange place.

My store begins not so long ago when the girlfriend wanted to go shopping and seeing that I have a strong pair of hands, would make for a useful porter/hanger/shopping cart etc. decided to drag me along. Seeing as my other option was to just laze at home I chose to... well laze at home obviously. Unfortunately my get-up and go was triggered by the fact that my girlfriend has gained custody of my credit card and was quite capable of breaking the bank with it if not supervised. We (what I really mean is she) spent some (read: 3 hours) time selecting a few articles of clothing (read: over 15) and now needed to try them on to see which ‘All’ to buy. Here comes the interesting part, coz you see the store had two sets of changing rooms for ladies. One in the Indian ethnic section and the other … well you guessed it, in smack in the middle of the lingerie section. The reason I bring this up is that I was required to stand outside the changing room to (i) hold the bulk of the items while said girl was trying one on and (ii) to give my opining (however I feel the second point was probably mentioned to make me feel important as the girlfriend had all the opinion she needed in the form of a mirror).

As luck would have it, the ethnic section changing rooms were full so the other option was chosen. Hesitant at first I soon realized this was my chance to find out the goings on in this mysterious section. Filled with excitement (on the same level as Columbus probably felt while discovering a new and as yet untamed land) I entered the forbidden kingdom. No sooner had those thoughts formed in my mind when suddenly I went from an intrepid explorer to a shivering Guantanamo detainee. Gone were the images of supermodels in sexy underwear only to be replaced with middle-aged out of shape woman with disgusted looks of disapproval on their faces. By this time I was long abandoned by the girlfriend (who by now was happily trying out her new clothes that I would be buying for her) and I was left to fend for myself in this savage land I did not understand.

Let me draw you a picture. There I was, to my left a underwear clad mannequin propped up on a pedestal so its pelvic region is at shoulder level. To my right were the above mentioned ‘middle-aged’ woman with their disapproving looks of disgust at my presence there. In front of me was the changing room and behind me (to my horror) was a queue of woman waiting for the trial rooms to get free. Now it took me a while to realize that the ladies behind me thought I was in the queue as well and the fact that I was holding women’s clothes did not help any.  I just had no where to look dammit! Everywhere I turned I got unpleasant looks from woman in my line of sight (guess they thought I was some ladies-clothes wearing, lingerie section loitering sicko with nothing better to do.) I actually spent an unusually long time staring at my shoes, as it seemed the least ‘controversial’ direction to look at. It was then that a rather large lady was trying to cut the line and brushed against me. I don’t know why, perhaps it was the fear of being accused of some form of harassment, that I jumped to my left and nearly knocked the promiscuously dressed mannequin off her pedestal. Reflexes kicked in and I caught it before it fell. Unfortunately the position I ended up holding the mannequin was less than appropriate and it took me all of two seconds to realize this, unfortunately the damage was already done. Just then the girlfriend walked out of the trial room only to see her beloved boyfriend molesting an underwear clad mannequin while middle-aged woman ran for cover. Needless to say she found the entire episode more than a bit funny. I however  Iam scarred for life. Never, in the brief and colorful history that is my life (so far) have I transitioned from being titillated to publicly humiliated in such a short span of time.

My warning to all who have managed to read this and to those who decided to scroll over the actual story and skip right to the end – be very careful what you wish for.. they may actually come true.. and how!

Cheers

The mann-e-quen

(Name changed to reflect the gender of author, the act of carrying women’s clothing and obviously the mannequin itself)

Like most relationships, this one had its ups and downs.. We had our good runs, we had our breakdowns.. I would not call her high maintenance, but she did demand quite a bit of attention. Most of my friends did not approve of our ‘relationship’. They just could not understand why I did not go in for a younger, up-and-coming model. You see boys and girls, my Padmini and I had been together even since I was two years old. Now she may have past her prime but she still has that old world charm coupled with contemporary looks. Sometimes I feel I’m the only one who can tolerate her tantrums. My girlfriend, who is far from possessive, gets really irritated by the amount of time/money I spend on my Padmini and often tells me to get rid of her. I do understand why she feels that way as my Padmini had ‘inconvenienced’ the girlfriend on many an occasion.

In spite of all her shortcomings she still is a beautiful beast. Let me give you an overview of her vital statistics:-

Webber Carburetor; Headers; Free-Flow Sports Exhaust; Radials; Alloys; Racing Steering; Bucket Seats; Racing Flow-shift;  Power Windows; Tachometer; Super King Blower; Custom Grill and a few more bells and whistles. Yes she goes by many names: the Ferrari, the Beast, Desi-Hot-Rod, Roadster, pile-of-steel, rust bucket, etc. Some names were flattering while others plain insulting. To the masses however she was known as the premier padmini a.k.a. the Fiat.

The car was an absolute pleasure to drive. It has brilliant all round visibility, decent handling (with improved tires of course), a monstrous grunt (read- exhaust note) and the best part – unlike every other car on our roads, it was unique.

Now for the bad…  the car was plagued by electrical issues and these were heightened when it rained.  It also used to get crazy-hot (and not in a sexy way) in the cabin often causing the driver to suffer from bouts of dehydration and thermal shock. It had low mileage, limited top speed and a bad suspension. The brakes were as reliable as your average politician and the headlights had a unique ability to blind oncoming traffic and simultaneously provide practically no road visibility to the driver. How it can emit so much light and still be completely useless is a question that will probably baffle the scientific community for many years. All in all it was a pain to drive in traffic, it was a potential health hazard to drive at night and nearly suicidal to drive during the rains. Hmmmm i'm begining to understand the girlfriend's semi-dislike towards my horse-less carrage...  

To make the ride a bit better I put in a new AC. The AC which I had installed put too much load on the battery. This forced me to buy a bigger, more powerful battery. Now the alternator (which was salvaged from an old maruti 800) was not powerful enough to charge the bigger battery. The end result was to upgrade to a more powerful alternator.  And so on and so forth... 

Now I think you can begin to grasp the essence of this ‘love-hate’ relationship with this magnificent wild horse that, even though past her prime, is raring to go, on that one last ride into the sunset..

If you managed to get this far in the post without falling asleep you might as well have a look at a few snaps of the  ....