About Nude Not Naked

Once I read a girly magazine and discovered that all women’s prayers were answered in the form of Biotherm’s Celluli Choc. To those who are unfamiliar to womanly woes, let me fill you in. We, women are born to absorb fatty fats much easier. We eat a delicious plate of roast duck and it stays with us. On our hips or thighs or butt or tummy. The Celluli Choc acts to tone your skin tissue, for a flatter and firmer stomach. At least that was the Biotherm promise.

I was on my compulsory 10 minute after meals walk when I found myself lured into the Biotherm counter. Ain and I chatted to the sales girl and grew uncomfortable as the minutes passed by. The beauty advisors from each counter were meeting at another counter, busy whispering and looking at us, sitting there in the Biotherm counter.

As the girls converged suspiciously, Ain and I grew more uncomfortable. I decided on the product and bought it in great haste. Then we basically ran for our dear lives before we were critically analysed to death there in the beauty department.

It was much later that I found out that they were talking about me. They were judging me while I spent money at their department. You will smile and say nice things for some commission at the end of the month? Then you stab me behind my back when I am gone? How two faced can you get? Does that not make you a prostitute of some sort? If I disgust you so much, I suggest not serving me at all. At least have some principle in life but I guess you do not know what that means.

Some of the beauty advisors knew me. Or at least that was what they told each other. That was why they stood together at the counter staring. They were busy judging Little Miss Otto and I bet they had a field day. They saw me in the clubs at night. They knew a friend of a friend of a friend. Or they heard a friend said this and that friend said that. So they felt that they knew me.

Or do they?

I was outraged when I first found out about it. I was angry because I felt that it was wicked and unfair towards me. Wouldn’t you feel the same too? I have no problem if someone comes up to my face and say nasty to me. At least give me a chance to defend myself. So as you can imagine, I was infuriated beyond belief! The cheek of these cocky 20 year olds! And you would think that age makes you wiser. Not for the case of the soured middle aged aunties. No, everyone was having a nice picnic, nitpicking my choices in life.

I vowed never to go to that beauty department ever again. I do not need others to bug me with their interpretations of how a woman should be or how a relationship should be conducted. I have my parents to fuss all over me, thank you.

This morning I realised something as I stared at myself in the mirror. Perhaps I did not dread their criticism as much as I feared mine. Quite possibly I had projected my own fears on the beauty advisors. Sure, they said things about me. Was I really worried about what they really said or was I more concerned for what I THOUGHT THEY SAID? It occurs to me that I am faced with the challenge of making peace with myself.

After all, this is my life. I will have to stare at myself in the mirror till the day I die. Who the hell cares for a bunch of girls who stared at me in the beauty department one afternoon sometime ago? I do not live with them.

I live with the person who stares back at me in the mirror. And if she is okay with who I am, then I guess I will be ok.