So yesterday, I found myself at one of Mumbai's high profile shopping arcades, and decided that what with my birthday coming up and all, I could treat myself to a nice t-shirt. After not being able to find what I wanted, however, I made do with a cup of chilli corn, and called up the Chimneypot to complain.
Chimneypot, hassled at work on the other end: "Hello? Hello? What is it? I have a deadline to meet. Hurry up."
CT, pouting: "None of these damn shops have my size! It's so ridiculous! Not one of them had anything in a size smaller than M! They're all bloody Ls and XLs and XXLs! It's all a blatant conspiracy by American companies: MacD's and KFC gets them fat, so that they can only fit into the large size stuff that obese Americans wear!"
Chimneypot, trying to make some sense of the tirade: "Wha-aa-at?"
CT, gesturing with hands now, so that passers-by on the road around him are a bit scared that he's the latest Bombay terrorist: "You heard me! Why can't I find a S size shirt in Bombay?!"
Chimneypot, struggling now, but thinking she's seen the light: "Do you mean to tell me that you're an S size?"
CT pauses for a second to consider, pouts some more, and then: "Well, no, I'm not an S size per se, but I like to wear S! But they don't have any S!"
Chimneypot, through clenched teeth, before hanging up: "O, go wear an M, and jump into the ocean!"
Stumped. I mean, leave aside her incredulity that I would wear an S size, why is it so friggin' hard to find the size I want in Bombay? Tackling her incredulity question now, let's be honest: it's just some of the things associated with gay people: we wear 'tight' clothes, we like to 'show off'. Heaven (and Hell) knows, I've done a lot of 'showing off'. Everytime I wear a sleeveless tshirt at a GB party, I'm supposedly 'showing off'. SnowWhite's Stepmother says, he could never wear a sleevless. Emily says, he could never wear anything 'tight' for that matter. Me? I'm only too happy to wear them, only too happy to stand in the spotlight in my ganji and dance like a devil. But Chimneypot and Flatmate and loads of other straight friends of mine think I wear a size smaller because of the 'gay thing'.
And of course, that's sheer Poppycock.
I mean, there are loads of straight men out there who go the 'tight and narrow' way. Sheer shirts, tight-fit vests for nipples to poke through, leather pants that grip your arse, pointy shoes that make you look "witchy-bitchy" (courtesy, SS) - all of them, and I mean, ALL, have been appropriated by straight men in their closets. Good enough. But when the straight man gets to dress all slinky and sinewy he's given the 'metrosexual' tag - see a gay guy try on something like that, and he's something shocking next to an exhibitionist.
Not that I mind the 'exhibitionist' tag, actually. My next mission: to buy a pair of o-so-tight-I-can't-reproduce jeans.
I'm gay, you see: I don't need to reproduce! Amen.
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