Saturday, February 23, 2013

Off Its Seams

Just this afternoon, I received a call from Star and she was crying on the phone. I was sound asleep when she called (and it was gloriously raining and that too on a public holiday) so hearing her sobbing on the phone was a bit of an overkill. It did woke me up instantly though. She was crying as if someone passed away.

"Did someone pass away?" I asked rubbing my eyes.

"No! My dress tore!" she shrieked on the phone between sobs.

At that point of time I wanted to punch her in the face.

"You woke me up from my sleep and you're crying because your dress tore?" I calmly spoke, through gritted teeth.

"My red sheath Roland Mouret dress is torn and I am stuck in my mother's boyfriend toilet for the past fifteen minutes!" she continued sobbing.

"God, not that dress. I forgot you were going to wear that for Chinese New Year," I said, suddenly remembering.

About a month ago, Star had purchased a red sheath Roland Mouret dress online all the way from New York for Chinese New Year. Star's mum is dating this Chinese businessman and he had invited both mother and daughter to his Chinese New Year party that included his friends and family members. Even though Star is born to an American dad and a Pakistani mother, she was more than happy to attend the party because she heard that her potential stepbrother is quite a catch.

Star is just morally decayed like that.

But that's not the problem. The problem is, three weeks ago when the dress arrived, it was of the wrong size. It came in a size 4 and Star is a size 6.

"There goes your dream of wanting to be like Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada," I told her.

"It's too late to change it. I am just going to diet for the next three weeks, Spanx the whole shit up and look fabulous come Chinese New Year," Star said, face full of resolve.

And she did. She first went on a three day detox program and stuck to soups, no fried foods, no carbohydrates. Two days ago she Whatsapped me a picture of her in that dress and well, it fitted her like a glove. She texted, "So I lost three kilograms and dropped a cup size to a 3D but I'm barely breathing and my tits are working extra hard and Scarlett Johansson has got nothing on me!"

Melanie who was also in the group chat said, "WTF?!"

So this distressed call came as a surprise to me.

"How come it tore? It's a Roland Mouret. How much did you eat?"

"I don't know what it was but I think it was the steamboat. I don't know what they put in the soup but I had over four bowls and that's why the dress tore; I was too bloated!" Star helplessly cried on the phone.

"Where is the tear?" I asked her.

"My back, just below my neck where the zip is. I was reaching forward for my fifth bowl and it gave way," she said.

"Is your hair tied up?" I asked.

"Yes..." she replied sounding a little confused.

"Must I teach you everything? Just let your hair down. God, it's so simple, what would you do without me?" I sighed.

"I don't know why I didn't think of that," she said, and then hung up.

You're fucking welcome.

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