A few days ago, my mother got obsessed with lipsticks. Not that she didn’t love lipsticks before, but since the rumours of heavy discounts on Dry Lipsticks at R&N shopping complex reached her ears, her love skyrocketed to the point of mania. The word ‘discount’ always drives her crazy; this time, it was accompanied with an adjective ‘heavy’. She kept pacing up and down, like a kid who’s desperately waiting for the clock to turn 9 so that she could watch Oggy and the Cockroaches. Had it not been sunny and muggy, she’d have scooted off right away. But she decided to wait till the evening, and she did that bravely. As the sun dimmed, her excitement rose; and as the clock struck six, in the drop of a hat, my mother was out of the house.
I heaved a sigh of relief and opened xvideos, because that’s what you do when you are seventeen years old and not accompanied by your mother in a room with a free wifi connection.
My happiness didn’t last long, for my mother was back in less than ten minutes, her expressions suggesting she has been mugged.
“The shop was closed. “She said, disappointed.
“Some other day. “I tried to sound optimistic.
“Yeah. “She said and exhaled wearily.
Yesterday evening, we went for Lipstick Shopping. Of course, I was dragged. She promised she’d buy me novels at the Cheap Thursday market, and it sounded so rare from my mother, I couldn’t decline the offer. But then, you cannot deny that I was lured into this.
I had never bought lipsticks before. I hate lipsticks. Every girl I dream of, I imagine her without lipstick. I prefer the natural pink of the lips, and I’d not want my potential wife to wear any artificial sticky substance at the place I’m supposed to kiss her.
Anyway, I was filled with disgust as the girl at the counter, who wore magenta lipstick, laid out the sticks from a pack that had around fifty shades of red. In the case below, I clocked a violet lipstick. At once, my brain pictured every crush of mine wearing violet lipstick; mortified, I told my brain to stop doing that.
My mother was viewing the lipsticks with the patience of a crane. It was as if she was contemplating the molecular mass of the cylindrical structures in front of her eyes. I was getting annoyed already.
“Would you choose one for me? “She asked, seemingly dazzled.
“I don’t think so. “I replied.
My mother then went back to studying all the shades of red. I stood there, wondering if shopping with a woman is the worst experience you can have in your life. I scanned through the items in the racks, and noticed sanitary napkins and wondered for the longest time what if men had periods. All the while, my mother was busy checking out lipsticks.
“Which one of these two? “She asked, rubbing two reds on the back of her hand. They were so similar that only a lab test could differentiate one from the other. I pretended to look closely and tossed a coin in my mind and pointed at the shade at the top.
“I think it’s better. “I said. She seemed to believe me.
“What’s the price? “She asked the girl at the counter.
“Wasn’t there a discount? “My mother flinched. My mother was just pretending to be taken aback, she knew the price already.
“It’s the discounted price, madam. “She said, calmly.
After that, my mother bargained for an hour or so, and she got it for two hundred.
“That’s how you buy stuffs. “She said, a triumphant smile across her face, as we stepped out.
Later, she took me to the Cheap Thursday market and got me The Cacther in the Rye and If I Stay for one hundred rupees. Their printed total was 698/-.