I am lucky to be a woman. Apart from the fact that I am the proud member of the more fairer, composed, reliable, faithful, nonviolent, war loathing, mature, emotion-driven, kind and loving, humble, gentle, saner, life bearing gender; I am also important enough to now have a large industry toiling all day and burning midnight oil just to cater to my needs.
Take a short trip to the supermarket near you, and you will know what I mean. I have now at my disposal everything imaginable right from downright essentials to exotic perfumes, lotions, face masks, organic products, slimming pills, herbal tea, and hi-tech electronics just to make me more beautiful.
Of course, since I am so perfect to start with, I rarely would need all these multitude of products, but my excessive compulsive urge for shopping till my balance drops to zero always gets the better of me. I usually stock up my favorite lotions and perfumes, just in case there is a natural calamity and all roads to the supermarket are inaccessible.
As per a survey* conducted on woman perceptions, a majority of woman perceive their beauty through the eyes of the beholder. Now that is somehow a paradox, since another survey* concluded that women spend an enormous amount of time staring at their own reflections. They also seem to get bewildered, amazed, glad and sad all at the same time. No wonder we are famous for being experts on multitasking.
Anyways, somewhere in my making, as in the making of any other woman, this unusual hormonal imbalance was created, which made us always seek out approval of others, either directly or in a subtle fashion. This particular abnormality is the reason I always strive to be look prettier than I am today. Not that I am pretty today, but I strive anyway.
Of course growing more prettier over time is not naturally possible, atleast not for non-celebrities like me. Maybe its because I do not have the privilege to be in and out of rehabs, prisons, marriages or law suits at my whim and fancy. Either that or I cannot afford to laze around in the spa all day.
The only chance I have got is to step into my walking shoes, and hit the beauty floor. I pop all the thought bubbles from the angel perched on my right shoulder that preaches “Outward perception of beauty is not as important as the inner, long lasting, more powerful and ever increasing attractiveness of my beautiful mind.”
As I submissively surrender my card to the cashiers whopping bill, the devil on the left smirks, “Congratulations, you are now doomed to end up being a mere beauty in the box!”
*The surveys are fabricated, so its advisable not to attempt validating the authenticity.