First impressions count. As kids we are taught not to judge a book by its cover. As adults we are told that it is important to look best when presenting oneself the first time: ideally an interview.
However, there is a certain segment of society who has facial issues, literally. I for one, empathise with them. Or maybe I am one of them. I do try to look presentable, most of the time at least, but still, it is just not enough. Since adolescence, I looked the “type” who disobeyed her parents, smoked up and hooked up with random boys. Maybe the penultimate and the last phrases have been blessed with hyperbole. Point being, I looked “that” type.
In reality however, things weren’t as rosy. I was given freedom, apparently lots of it – as I was told by some of the kids who grew up. But I never really found the necessity to well, misuse it. I’d rather stay at home and sleep with no disturbances as opposed to bringing friends over and throwing Hollywood-inspired house parties. The only house parties I did enjoy were the ones I threw for my Sims. I was allowed to go wherever I wanted to, and leaving aside the exception of say, two or three instances, my Mum and I never seemed to disagree on where I could and could not go.
Also, I apparently have a very cool Mum. She is cool, I agree. But I think what makes her “cooler” is the fact that my Sister and I made it a point, since childhood to tell her things, as opposed to keeping it away from her. Thereby we were given freedom, and most importantly trusted.
But that is not the point is it? Maybe due to the overlapping of ethnicities, us siblings may not have the typical Melayu babath mukha or sharp Kandyan features. So what if my sister likes experimenting with her hair and I enjoy drilling my ears with jewellery? Conventionally speaking and observing, such activities speak of questionable upbringing, indecency and of course the unfailing “that” type.
So I am told that I look Indian now. Furthermore, my accent compliments my features.
In non-Indian clothes and regular jewellery, all I need is a bottle on my left and a cigarette in my right.
Passive smoking is cool, the cigarette tastes a little blah to me though.
Bottles are a big no-no.
It doesn’t make a different though does it?
She is still “that” type.
Oh fuck em all. Re-evaluate your own kids before you make your pass your blessed verdict on others.