My Hairband

Most of the times, I forget to be all prim and ladylike. The other times I am too busy goofing up to be any good at it. So, all in all, I am the most hopeless failure in the feminine guile-and-charm department which the rest of the female species seems to be naturally endowed with.

So I go and buy a lipstick and half an hour after dabbing it on my lips, it disappears into thin air. Or rather into my tummy. At other times, I try kajal and then go on to rub my eye, blackening half my face in the process. I buy high heels and keep them in the showcase for display purposes while I saunter off in floaters under formal trousers.

However, there is one accessory that no one on earth seems to use but which I can't live without - my black hairband. It is a metal affair with jagged teeth to hold unruly tresses with authority and aplomb. It is the singlemost important item of clothing when I am at the gym. It also comes in handy when I want to pry open stubborn doors or ensure my cap stays in place. Of course when it is not plonked on my head, it acts as an effective paperweight.