What could be the most difficult decisions in life? Joining a college, finding a job, choosing a life partner, owning a house...? In reality, there are times when we spend hours just to arrive at a decision about things that appear so simple. Or, are they as simple as they seem?
I remember choosing my first lip-stick. I was worried about the price, the maker and of course the shade. Months after I had bought it, I attended events without applying the lip-stick as I wasn’t sure if the event was actually ‘worth’ sporting it. And when I did, I kept my lips pouted for so long out of fear that it might lose its sheen if I spoke, that a friend asked me if I had had an oral maxillo-facial surgery done!
At high school, it was a hush-hush affair to discuss the different brands of lingerie. After all, wearing a lingerie was the first visible sign of having turned a woman. Break time was reserved for such conversations about girls who had started wearing ‘it’ and the best brand available. That was easy since we didn’t know too many brands then.
But, as years passed, we all grew into young ladies, into women, and eventually into mothers; it was time to opt for some ‘support’ systems. Traction belts and support bras had to be carefully chosen after several enquiries, thanks to taking the easy option of going in for caesarean section when the baby arrived.
With the arrival of a tiny bundle of joy (!), crucial questions cropped up. What should be the name of the baby? Every name in the list was dismissed. How could we decide on something so important that will stay for life, in a hurry? It wasn’t difficult eventually as there was always a choice of changing the name later. But, nothing was as tough as storing contact numbers in the cellphone. Did he/she really deserve to be on my phone?
Going shopping after initial years of motherhood was a challenge. In my mind, I was size M (medium). But, my body seemed to be independent of my mind. Sales girls would gently dismiss my choice, sporting a sweet smile, and get dresses from XL to XXL instead.
Was it a tough decision for her to tell me I was wrong? I finally made peace with it recently when I went to buy a pair of jeans. As I reached out to my ‘size’, I was stopped by a young salesman, who told me it would probably not fit me. “But, I have always worn this,” I protested. Without mincing words, he said none of the women’s jeans would do for me and got me a pair of jeans from the men’s section. Making decisions don’t bother me any more.
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