It's your signature. Youbought it all.You sit down on your bed. You don't do anything at all for a while. Nota thought.Then you hear the front door open and your roommate yells out "Dude!"You jump to your feet to get your bedroom door shut quickly and yellback the customary "Yeah, but what's mine say?" He yells "Sweet" and youhear him toss his stuff down by his computer, probably already lost inthought about whatever game he was going to play.Safe for the moment, you look at your wall mirror and take the time toreally study the makeup on your face. There is no way that you did this.You have no idea how to do this. No idea at all. But it's expertly done.Your lashes are long and lush, the colors in the eye shadow blend likethey've been airbrushed, your eyes themselves look enormous. Your cheeksand nose have been highlighted just so to accent them properly formaximum effect. The lips you could write books about. The color looks sodeep you could fall in and wet enough to drown in. You. It was a very emotional moment. My eyes had gotten swollen red due to crying a lot. The last couple of weeks had been quite an emotional roller-coaster for me. My body was shaking as I stammered while speaking to her since the time I reached home. I was so embarrassed that I couldn’t make eye contact with her. I was feeling uncomfortable, almost suffocating when I sat for dinner. I was having difficulty swallowing the food she served. Clearly, I was distressed but she didn’t seem bothered by it. She had her own problems, sadly all because of me.At that moment Amma was wearing a brown tight blouse and a matching underskirt only. She had stopped wearing saris inside the house, even in front of me. As she moved around the house, her breasts jiggled since she was not wearing any bra.With every step she took, the fabric of her blouse stretched showing off more and more cleavage. The reason she wasn’t wearing any bra because the ones she owned were all broken. She couldn’t afford to buy.
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