When I was younger, my mom would dress me up in cute little Indian outfits [with bells]. She would apply a little blush on my cheeks and apply cherry chapstick on my lips. Of course, I thought the chapstick was lipstick. I felt glamorous, and as my mom would put the last safety pin on her saree and finish applying her makeup, I just sat there staring at her. I would close my eyes tightly, so tight that my eyelids would wrinkle up, and wish to look just as beautiful as her. I didn’t want to be a Disney princess, I wanted to be the princess that was right in front of me. This dress made me feel just that.
Another memory I had was a little after my baby brother was born. I was about 5 and he was 2. The kid was the cutest little nugget ever. You know how squirrels store acorns in their cheek? My brother looked like one of those squirrels. He, I’m assuming, had a bit of an identity crisis when he was a toddler. Growing up with a sister, he didn’t know what a boy’s or a girl’s role was. So naturally, he wanted to dress up too! If we neglect to powder his nose with loose talc or sweep a little blush on those acorn-storing cheeks, he would become one cranky baby. I guess he wanted to be as beautiful as my mom too.