Posted in close to heart

She is married!

Remember this and this? This post will be the end to that series alright. You know you’re someone’s best friend when you go to to that person’s wedding and everyone knows you! And for those who don’t, you’re introduced as a very special member with words like ‘Hey, Meet my best friend” etc. So my girl got married on 5th January 2013 and while I watched her say “I Do” with a voice that I couldnt stop smiling about later, I realised that dreams do come true. It does. All you need to do is to wait. Just a little patience and your dream would come alive. When I saw her that morning I couldnt help sit and admire how much she had changed overnight. Just last week we were shopping, giggling like school girls and making a hue and cry at the shop and now she was here, all decked up, smiling and ready to step into the next chapter of the classic book of life.

All I can talk about is her smile that day. She was smiling from cheek to cheek! While the prayer was going on, while her sister sang for her, while the blessings were showered on her, while Ashish said “I do”, while she said “I do” and through the length of the wedding, she was smiling! And a very naughty one that too. I have never seen a bride as happy as she was. Well she still is. I chose to believe that she was overwhelmed. But no. She was genuinely happy and man am so super happy for her.

Seeing her in a PINK saree sitting next to her man, looking all regal and elegant reminded me of the times when we used to care two hoots about our looks. I remember how much fun we used to have back in our college days. The who-cares-a-damn-about-what-we-wear- attitude and the make up sessions and the haircutting sessions and the saree session we used to have. Then it moved on to the girly phase were we did everything we could to look like girls! It was fun. And all that changed with the blink of an eye. Rugged, tough jeans paved way to elegant looking salwars. Floaters changed into dainty looking sandals. Scrunchy tied hair changed to well styled, blow dried, hair sprayed hair!

That my girl is beautiful,would be an understatement.She literally…literally…took one’s breath away. And through this solemn, peaceful composure – that only comes from a certainty of knowing that you’re doing the right thing  and that my girl is in trusted hands- I watched her as she went from Ms Diviya Ann Koshy to Mrs Diviya Ashish with a magical smile and a skip in her step.

Posted in close to heart, fiction

Forever 21

She has known him now for 4 yrs . They met when they were in college. She was NOT a girl next door , and he wasn’t a flamboyant in character , but they were meant to be together.
She was a charmer and he was the less social, shy one in the corner. He was into books and she was in everything apart from it . Maybe as it is said , opposites attract. They happened to each other . She never believed in Love until she met him and THEN there was no looking back .
They made a pair to be envied by all those who knew they were a couple , to be blessed and loved by few .
When GOD wrote their Love Story he was perhaps in the most melodramatic mood. The budding lovers were least aware of the real world. They dreamt of everything except a broken relationship .

Some dreams are meant never to be fulfilled and few horrible horrible nightmares  were destined to come true. Maybe they were fated to meet and depart .

Oh there she stands today amidst all applauses & eyes gazing at her. She is at her best spirit. This is where she always intended to be. To be acclaimed , to be unbeaten , to be praised. She moves in the crowd with smile on her lips and pride in her eyes but always looking for that familiar face with the deep grin. The disappointment in not finding that face was well hidden by practice.She moves back to her bay and look out of window to see the roads she has travelled once with him .

She is 28 now and climbing ladders to her success but nothing stops her from going back to the life when she was with him .There is part of her which wants to run back to the days when she was 21 , when she was content by just walking in the June- July rains of Cochin, by that 5 minute bike ride or that wait at the garden for 10 minutes just to see him after his football or cricket match . She cant stop thinking of those days even when her friends tell her to move on .

Moving on has been a strange journey for her where she got everything in this spree  only disallowing herself from every relationship . She met many ppl only making them acquaintances. Today she is in dilemma if to allow herself another chance in new relation or not . As the pieces of that broken relation still nip her , she refuses to discard them .

Every marriage she attends, every status update she receives, every couple on the road n she thinks to herself, why couldn’t it be them walking hand in hand, y couldn’t it be their marriage, and why did it have to be them to fall apart? Why??

No matter how high she climbs up and how much success she finds, the love that she felt when she was 21 will still thriving inside her . A relationship which is dead for the world will still be nurtured and kept alive by her. She is not waiting for him but the love still binds her to tat man .She will forever be 21.

Posted in m@dness

No Guarantees

The thing about giving people advice, whether it’s solicited or not, is that you feel responsible if they act upon it, and even more so if the outcome is not exactly as envisaged.

Today I look back and say, damn I wish I was 18 again. But the pig-headed moron that I am, I dont think I’d have done a damn thing differently, given another chance.

All I wanted to say is: whatever you do, just make sure you dont find yourself looking back when you’re 30 and saying: damn! how I wish I hadn’t done that.

Everywhere you look you find people compromising on this or that, something or the other. And compromise is not that bad a thing if you really think about it, because you usually find that when people compromise or give in, they automatically start to make adjustments.

And it is these adjustments that over a period of time, tend to make things ok. That’s when you find yourself saying: hey, that didn’t turn out all that bad.

But people like me – we listen to nobody; we want what we want, and we’ll go to any lengths to get it, sometimes stumbling all the way.

“A tiny change today brings us to a dramatically different tomorrow. There are grand rewards for those who pick the high hard roads, but those rewards are hidden by years. Every choice is made in the uncaring blind, no guarantees from the world around us.”

No guarantees indeed.


Posted in Moanday Mornings

Being Silly!

Silliness is an underrated state of mind where everything seems rational to you, but for others its just “Oh my god! How can she be so dumb?”. Sometimes its silly not to be silly.

Like for example: You want something from your parents, you know if you sit and discuss with them either they will not agree or it will just take a looooooooooooooooooooooooot of time. So the best thing to do is be silly about it. Close your ears, and eyes and start screaming, “I want it. I want it. I WANT IT”. I’m sure you’ll get the desired result in a matter of minutes. Who will want to argue with a  stupid, silly, stubborn person? Will you?*

Another time this principle works is when you are trying to impress a guy. I have seen many girls who pretend to be so dumb. As an inexperienced cynic, I used to think guys are smarter than to fall for this childish trick, but guess what? They are not. They will lap up any stupid, “silly” girl they come across. After all, its easy to manipulate a dumb girl anyday, don’t you think so?*

Then there’s the time you have to fill a form or an application or whatever. You don’t wanna take the risk of filling it yourself and making a hundred mistakes in the process but you are too proud to ask for help. Tan ta dan! time to put on your silly mask. Go to your dad. ” Dad, does age mean your age or mine?”, “Dad, does address mean gmail address or yahoo address?”. Enough, these two questions will do the trick, if not pepper it with some more conjunctions and prepositions. He will snatch the paper and the rest will be history.*

You can repeat the same procedure with your team lead when he/she has assigned you a lot of work. Go to him and repeat similar questions like, “You mean I have to make a call on this, should I call or will they call? Shall I call in the morning or evening? Who will pay the ISD bill?” You will be met with wide eyed stares, but your work there is accomplished.*

Try these.

Oh but wait,
* means “All these work in your favour, IF and ONLY IF you are a girl”

P.S- I was inspired to write this post after I saw my 26 year old cousin get her job done just by being silly!

Now go try 🙂

Posted in Uncategorized

Truth is stranger than fiction!

I promised a lot of people that I’d share with them the basis of my short story, The Call. So here goes…

I did my graduation in a popular Tamil Nadu College and I was a regular in the bus going to Kerala every weekend. Due to the rush, sometimes I used to get the last bus which was at 11:00 pm and my friends would be there to see me off to ensure that I was safe! Yeah how sweet!

One night as I was waiting for my bus to arrive, I noticed a girl who was my senior standing across the road. She was dressed very sexy like she was going partying. I knew her from college and was just about to go meet her when my friend stopped me and told me not to go and to wait and watch. What followed was an absolute stunner!

A car stopped in front of her and they spoke something and the car left. Another stopped in a few minutes and left. 5-6 cars followed and then finally one car did and they spoke for awhile longer and she got in and left the place. It was after awhile that I realised what was going on! She was a professional escort ( Okie i like to call it that coz i hate the other words they use to describe such women). I did meet her in college and she was like any normal girl there. Studying, hanging out with friends, library, cafeteria etc. I couldn’t help wonder what made her do this!? I decided to speak to her just to put an end to my curiosity.

I went upto her one day and this was the conversation we had that evening.

Me: I saw you one night at The Bus Stand. I think both you and I know why you were there that night.

She: (An awkward glance at me) So?

Me: I am curious and I need to know why you chose such a path?

She: Why would I tell you? So that you can tell your friends about me n laugh over it??

Me: No because I need to know why that’s all? 

She: (laughing loudly) that is one helluva reason for me to tell u! Girl,don’t you have anything else to do than interfere in someone else’s life??

Me: No.

She: Buzz off.

And i did buzz off that night. But a few months later I saw her again at The Bus Stand and this time she came to me and started talking.  While we waited for my bus, she kept my friends n me company and told us her story over a cup of coffee.

She was from a middle class family. Her dad was not the richie rich type. She came to study in our college and realised that in order to belong to the hep group, she had to have some amount of money. At first she tried coaxing her dad to send her some every month and he relented. Probably he would have thought that this girl would stop asking a few months later. As soon as he stopped sending her cash, she began forcing her dad again and this time her dad said a strict no. But by then she was becoming a part of the Hep Gang and she was willing to do anything to be a part of it. When the money was getting over, she panicked. She sold her books first, then her mobile and slowly slowly the little jewelry her parents had given her.

She was very well loved by all in the group. She was willing to help everybody, always loaded with cash and very charming. Slowly she realised she didnt have anything more to sell. So one night as she was waiting at the Bus Stand to go home, a car stopped in front of her. A guy stepped out and asked her how much she wanted? At first she didn’t understand what was hapenning. Then he said he had the place,food and protection. How much she wanted for a night? She laughed and took it as a joke wondering if god was playing some game with her. She replied in a joking manner, 30,000. He said yes.

She was surprised and asked him again if he was willing to pay 30,000 for a night only?! He said yes and asked her to get into the car. She did.

From then on it was easy money. She says,” Nothing changes, I dont love anyone I have sex with and neither do they fall in love with me. Some dont even see my face! These days virginity is just a word! Tomorrow if my husband doubts my virginity, I can always tell him I fell off the cycle!’

That was her story.  She did pass out of college and she did get married a few years later to a nice looking man from her town. As far as I know they are happy.The hep group she was a part of and gave everything to be  a part of split up long before college ended. All for nothing, I say!

Sometimes when I see these professional escorts on the street I cant help wonder if she still does it for money and what if her husband was to be one of her clients? Could that happen? I don’t know….

Isn’t truth stranger than fiction?!


Posted in close to heart

Having to believe- On beliefs.

All of us believe in something, atleast we believe in ourselves! Most of the times our beliefs are reasonable. We believe in things, ideas, objects etc, etc. For instance , you believe that this life is finite because you see people around die. So it is reasonable to believe that life is finite. You believe the trees are immobile because you see them standing in one place all your life. You believe water is fluid and not solid( when not turned in to ice) because you see it flowing . So beliefs are mostly formed by some experience , generally verified by some proof or other. And most of the times we as humans generate consensuses of these beliefs and we call them truths. Yes sometimes we also tend to see, over time that our beliefs may not always hold true and a new belief is generated.

However not all beliefs can be verified or generate consensus.When you cannot reason these experiences you call them ‘magical’ or ‘mythical’. Does that make this experience untrue? Do you discard these beliefs because you cannot explain to some one that your experience is real?
I call it “having to believe”. Having to believe is a choice you make to believe in something, in spite your reason tells you otherwise. You just ‘choose’ to believe because you want to it be true.

I’ll explain through this story. This is  a  story my mother told me when I was very young. I had no idea why she told me this tale , until recently I understood in its entirety,what she meant.

“One day two girls went to the river side to play.River was located outside the town and girls were generally not allowed to go there. But they were tempted to gather some smooth polished stones that were found in the shallow river bed. So they sneaked out without telling the elders where they were going. They got so carried in gathering stones,that they forgot the time. And it suddenly got dark. The river was located outskirts of village and there was no much habitation on the way. As they realized they were marooned in that place, they were very petrified. To trace the  steps back was impossible because it was not a paved road. 

They dropped all the stones they had collected carefully and stood frozen with fear. Speechless with thoughts crowding each of their minds. By now one of the girls had begun to cry .

Just then they heard a voice in pitch darkness… a thick raspy voice.

“What the hell you two are doing here at this hour” the voice asked in angry tone.

“We were playing and did not realize the time” -said one of the girls in barely audible tone.

“This is not the place to play games ” the voice retorted back in booming voice again.

They tried to orient themselves to the direction the voice was coming, but could see nothing. Nothing at all. They could hear sounds of his sandals, rough leather sandals worn by Shepards in the town. He must have carried a staff because he banged it hard on the ground as he spoke angrily. Staff had some bells that jingled sweetly as he moved the staff.

For a moment there was silence.

Then the voice emerged again.”I will drop you home” . Just keep following the sound of these bells. And if you want to remain alive, do not turn back and look.I mean what I say.Just walk” the Voice boomed in a ruthless command. They had no choice but to follow his command.

The girls hugged each other tight and walked. Walked in that pitch darkness. They kept walking at the sound of the bells and creaking leather shoes. One of the girl’s house came first. So he stopped and asked her to go home. They could see some people moving in far distance . He again warned the other girl not to turn back and look.

 Fear was paramount for the girl, as she walked. All  she could hear was her own  heavy breath. She could not see or hear a thing around. Even the sound of his staff bells had ceased. She kept walking, till she saw her house in the distance. She did not wait for the man to tell her to go home and ran towards the lights that were dimly lit. 

“Where had you been?” her mother admonished her as she saw her running into the house. She said nothing. In fact she spoke nothing to any one for few days. But she was very curious to solve this mystery. The two girls kept this as secret mission and tried to investigate on their own. They knew some man had helped them and wanted to know who he was. They checked out among the farmers in the village who lived outside the village if they had known anyone who had helped the village girls in the night. But no one knew it.

After some days they just gave up their quest.

After sometime they revealed this story to the elders of their house. When they heard story they brushed it as casual event by saying “oh! you just met the village god. he is know for helping people who loose their way!”. 

My mother stopped her tale abruptly. She never explained this tale to me.

She just narrated it and left it for me to accept or reject it. To make my own judgments. But I Know from that day onwards she chose to believe that someone will be always be there for her when she looses her way in  life and she was right. Either it was her mother or later my dad.And if no one was around to help her, she believed in god. SHe believed that god would always be around to protect her!

I believe this is her tale of “having to believe”.
This is her personal myth she lived by.

And now I do too…

Today I just shared it with you.

Posted in close to heart

The Thin Woman- On size zero and being Adipose Enriched!

“Kareena’s Secret” splashed the front page of a well known woman’s magazine a few months ago.  The article went on to say how she had achieved her size- zero etc etc. And the next issue had readers saying thanks for the secrets!! Grrrrrrr what are/were they thinking.

You must have often bumped into her: the lone woman, with a perennially hungry look in her eyes, parenthesis of dissatisfaction around her mouth and an orange-ish hue to her fingers tips [from too many glasses of carrot juice?]. The lines of her body would make a Ferrari feel frumpish. Her silhouette is as perfect as a wash board’s; any which side you look at it. Her elbows are weapons and her rib cage will have you remember that the original eve was fashioned from a bone.

This is the woman, scribes [usually thin women themselves?] celebrate. The thin woman. The woman who has learnt to say no. The woman with the figure to carry clothes. Never mind that you and I will never cease to ask: what figure? The woman who has the world by its scrotum and will not relinquish her hold on it because what she wants, she gets.

Magazines all over the world devote many pages and much gloss to her. Achievers, they will tell you have a thin shadow. For the thin woman is very often a successful woman. From Celine Dion to Princess Di, From Claudia Schiffer to our own Kareena Kapoor, the thin woman is built with a core of steel. She is tenacious. She is purposeful. She has an incredible will power. For how else would she survive those days when nothing but comfort eating can help, work out regularly and keep her wayward taste buds leashed?

For some time now, I have endured with gritted teeth this celebration of the thin woman: Not because I’m fat. Simply because there is nothing more annoying than being lumped into a huge and broad category called fat. There is us, the adipose enriched. Supposedly cringing in the fringes. And there is them – the god’s own chosen walking tall. For they are the thin brigade and their banners read: The thin woman is a sophisticated woman. The thin woman has chic. Thin is beautiful. Thin is the way to be.

Again and again, I have stumbled across the phrase – If she was fat and ugly… and I would want to stretch across time and kilometres and grab the writer and the sub-ed who let it pass by their shoulders and yell: Ladies, Ladies, being fat doesn’t preclude being ugly. Being fat doesn’t mean being unhappy. Being fat doesn’t mean being consumed by envy for the thin woman.

The time has co me for some straight talk. From the gut, padded with a slight swell of flesh but nevertheless…

First, there is the question of why be thin? Why persevere so hard to resemble the androgynous stick insect?

Do men demand of women that they be thin? Ask just about any man [age, colour, education, income group no bar] about his fantasy woman and he’ll shape an hourglass in the air rather than draw parallel lines. So why do women inflict thinness upon themselves?ANd mind you, HOUR GLASS figure does not mean THIN!It means curvy with enough ADIPOSE TISSUE!

So what’s wrong with a few extra inches? We may never be able to wear a clinging sheath dress or a cropped top. Our collarbones will never see the sun rise again.. All we ask is if we tread the middle path of adipose, let us be. Shaped like a woman. Feeling like a woman. Satisfied with the way we look and the way we are. For heaven’s sake, don’t tell us how we ought to feel like.

For if one is to go by perceptions, there can’t be a more dissatisfied creature than a thin woman. She has neither the comfort of sublimating angst by tucking into a plate of French fries followed by a cream pastry nor does she have a man who she can trust will be with her through thick and thin, She lives haunted by the eternal fear ‘what if one day fat decides to make its home with me?’ LOL, yes I am laughing loudly! I pity the girls who live everyday smiling and walking tall to the world outside but burning with jealousy(for not being able to eat what they want) and insecurity(coz if they put on a lil weight, fear that their muscled,macho boyfriends might leave them).

So in spite of her flat abdomen and not even the shadow of a double chin, her thinness is ‘in’ and her enviable chic, the thin woman is always on the prowl. Where have all the men gone is her constant refrain that hits a hysterical high every now and then.

So is this a tirade against thin? Not really. For there is thin and there is thin. What they don’t tell you is that thinness begets age. {Even if the body belies it, thin women when dressed in clothes that would suit a teenager better, simply end up looking like mutton dressed as lamb] And worse, thinness begets loneliness…

In his twenties, a man will try anything. From trying to finish a bottle of whisky in one sitting to bungee jumping to swimming with the sharks to dating a thin woman. In fact, he even likes the thought of having a thin woman hanging on his arm. It gives out all the right signals. Me man. Me dating a vee-jay lookalike babe. Me and success hand in hand. Me cool.

But when it comes to marrying a girl, even the most coolest guy around town will seldom behave any different from an average goatherd. In bed and life, he wants substance. He wants something to hold on to; to cling and nestle against. If the toss up is between a cushion and a coat hanger, he will settle for the rounded contours rather than the straight and the narrow…

Besides he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life submitting to an iron will. A thin woman won’t let him snack. A thin woman will frown on his beer guzzling [there is nothing more offending than a beer belly in a thin woman’s eye] A thin woman will insist he works out when he’d rather nap. A thin woman will want him to take the dog for a walk while he’d rather sprawl on the couch and play touch and go with the remote control. A thin woman will want to know why he can’t do what she can – live on low fat low salt eats and stride ahead with a determined purpose. What man wants that? Even if he’s hippest coolest dude this side of the Arabian Sea.

A thin woman is good for a good time. But when it comes to settling down, ask a man and he will point out the girl with a bosom and fecund hips. In almost every culture, there is an axiom, prospective grooms swear by. Something to do with a woman being a real woman only when she has hair and boobs.

As the poet said: ripeness is all!

Posted in m@dness

>Friend (Only) in Need

>She stuck on to you like a leech then and now that she’s past her crisis or her loneliness, is she too busy with her new ‘fun’ friends to even bother making a call?

If it’s usual for her to call upon you for help any time of day or night, or just to ask for a favour but to vanish when you need her or when all is well in her little world, you have an opportunity girl on your hands. Of course friends are meant to be pinged at the time of need (what are friends for, right?) but if you’re only remembered in the time of trouble, your friendship definitely deserves a second look.

I remember being on the phone for many nights for my very close pal when her heart got broken. As a gesture of friendship,Ii introduced her friend to all the single guys she knew and today she doesn’t even take my calls and tries to portray herself as being closer to MY friends than I am.
Such ‘friend-users’ are usually very self-centered. They have probably learnt to be emotionally manipulative early in life by watching adult role models or by having their wishes granted when they managed to say the right thing to influence their parents. They have learnt that it is okay to pretend to be close to someone if it gets the job done and now it is a part of their psyche. So if your so-called friend sweetens you up to help her out of a crisis, as a child she probably watched her dad/mom doing the same with colleagues to glean favours at work or in life itself.
Even if you did hold such a friend dear for quite some time, you don’t have to be at her beck-and-call. Chances are, every time she gets lost in her happiness and shuts you out, you wonder whether you did something to push her away. But you can throw those misgivings away because now you know that she can’t help being who she is. She would do exactly the same with anyone in your place. But you can shield yourself from the hurt she inflicts every time she pulls away leaving you feeling used.
By helping her out every time she comes back, you are in fact reinforcing her craftiness. Every time her pleas work on you, she becomes more of an opportunist. Make her see how she excludes you from her life once she is past her crisis by quoting concrete examples. If she does care about you as a friend, she would start making amends.

I once put my work on hold for a friend who was sick and actually burnt the midnight oil to get her project done. As soon as she got better she went on a nice little vacation with her girlfriends with not so much as a postcard to me! I pointed it out to her and she got the hint. Haven’t heard from her since! and if she continues to deny that she takes advantage of you, gradually remove her from your life. She’s not worth the friendship she doesn’t value.
Don’t think ‘okay one last time’ the next time she calls crying at midnight. It’ll turn into an endless circle. She’ll be like an ex you can’t get over!
Posted in m@dness

>The girl who grew up


I was on my way to work today morning, walking along the winding little lane peppered with tiny little houses that connects my house to the main road. I take that same road every morning, and everyday, I see a lot of activity along that route. Women waving out to hubands, men leaving for work on their big n small gaddis, little girls with neatly plaited hair setting out for school, dogs, chickens, an eerie little wayside temple with a black-stone idol, small stores (a quintessentially Indian phenomena), etc.

Today morning, while I was walking, I saw one little girl, with a blue colour dupatta on her head, tied into a neat long plait. She must’ve been about 5-6 years old.

Pretty much the same age, that I used to do such stuff. You wouldn’t believe if I said it now, but as a kid, I loved dressing up and doing girly stuff. I was 6 when I cried to dad to buy me my first churidar. And the doting dad that he is, got me one. I still remember it, it was green in colour with polka dots and i wore it like it was the ONLY dress I had!! I would show off pretty much at every occasion coz while everyone of my age wore skirts and frocks I would look big n mature in a churidar!

I also used to have chocolate boxes filled with my accessories- earrings, chains, bangles, hairclips and what not. Every dress had matching accessories. There was a gold chappal that I really took a fancy to, bought from fashion street in Bombay, where I spent most of my summers, all those years ago. I used to believe that it went with any dress that I wore. It was hideous, when I look back at the photos now! But that was an age where I felt that anything bright and shiny was beautiful. 🙂

Sunday afternoons, when everyone were having their routine siesta, I used to get to work. I would take out these boxes, meticulously put on the make-up (and trust me, I was pretty good at it. I knew what all had to be applied where, and in what amount), then I would take out my favourite green dupatta with the gold sequins at the edges, pin it up safely on to my hair, and plait it. That dupatta was like a friend, I always had it with me. Boredom was never an option for me, as long as I had my dupatta and make-up boxes and ‘other accessories’, as my dad used to call it. :)…

I miss that girl…somewhere along the way, adolescence took its toll, and scorn for that little girl set in. I abandoned all those accessories that were part of my girlhood, and opted to go for what was in style. I stopped wearing bangles and bindis and big earrings. My chaddi buddies still ask me, why I stopped wearing all that… Infact I changed so much that as time passed I became more and more the tomboy types.. It took a nice gentleman and a couple of great friends to remind me about my childhood hobbies and the pretty little gal I loved to be.

When I saw that girl today, all those memories just rushed back, and the first thing I did was call up dad and tell him. Because he had put up with all that the most, and nobody would understand it better. And you know, he has not thrown away a single one of those things that I cherished- right from the boxes of ‘fancy items’(just like supermarkets give me a high today, fancy stores used to be my fascination then), ribbons, hair-bands, clips, beads, to the bag of clothes that I’d stitched for my Barbie dolls( I was an aspiring fashion designer at one time)- everything is intact. He never asked me whether he can throw them away or not- he just continues to preserve them for me. For what reason, I know not.

This post is dedicated to my dad, for never making fun of that little girl or forcing her to grow up sooner than she ought to have.

Sometimes I wish I never grew up…