MadeOver

Based on true stories from the chronicles of a makeover event.

All my life, I've been a brave man. Only two things could scare me. Living and non-living.

I discovered a third the other day - A short skirt. You know how sometimes women do things to attract you and you think they are just traps being laid; well, give it some time and you will discover that, yeah, they actually are traps!

One day, I was told that I have been selected for a makeover event. Now, selection for a makeover event does not mean you are a good-looking man. In fact, it means, you have to be “made over” to be presentable. Logical, isn’t it? But after umpteen rejections in life from engineering colleges to business schools to companies to women, any sentence beginning with “You have been selected for…” makes me jump with excitement. Sometimes, I don’t even read what follows. Once, I threw a party for getting sacked. The email had said “You have been selected for a premature termination of the service contract…”

I agreed to be a part of the event, which also involved a hair makeover. There were a few things that had never happened to me before. Like having my head in the sink for 20 minutes. Or four totally hot women sitting around me, trying to make me look extremely attractive. It was unbelievable. One of them said,

Woman 1: "Let's give his hair a D360-1 with a G-Force. That would make him look really sexy."

I gave her my I-know-what-you-are-trying-to-suggest smile.

Woman 2: "But that's not what we want".

What??? How can you not want that? I so wanted to smack her. But she was wearing a short skirt. Forgiven!

Woman 3: "I think what he can carry better is, the XMark 11 with an Apolo13".

Now wait a minute! Wasn't Apolo13 a failure? They termed it a “successful failure” but that phrase hardly makes sense. Scary thoughts are populating my mind now.

Woman2: "Or why don’t we try the Rough-up with X-580 on him?"

The other 3 women tried imagining me with that product and I could read their faces:
Woman1: "Does he deserve such an expensive product?"
Woman3: "Man, he's gonna look like an alien. This will be fun."
Woman4: "Finally, we would get to know if that combination really damages the hair beyond repair like the booklet says."

I said:
Me: "Umm, I am really glad you are doing my hair, but... try not to make it too... umm.. umm.. out of this world".

The girls giggled. In their minds they said "Oh, come on. You're a techie. You hardly have a life. Just shut up and let us make an alien out of you. You just think about the blog you are going to write about this."

With slow, held-back steps, I walked to the guillotine. It was placed in front of a clear mirror, so that the slaughter could be watched by one's own eyes. Two of the four hot women stood alongside, probably having a last look at my gorgeous hair, running their fingers through it. (Another dream come true for me. I mean, two lovely ladies running their fingers through my hair! What are the odds?) The undertaker amongst the two announced "Let's get started". As the cape flew around me and settled on my body, my hair was seeing its imminent death in the eye. Another beautiful goddess had the most important task - to sit on the couch and keep me mercilessly hypnotized, even as my hair was being beheaded. She had her weapon on her; the short skirt. The scissors audaciously made their way through my hair ravaging it, and one after the other, or rather thousands after hundreds, fell helplessly as their fellow ones who were lucky (or so they thought for a little while) stared at them in despair. The rampage culminated with the X-580 and its complementary WMDs clandestinely spreading their reigns over my head.

"Shew shew shew..." the water spray brought me out of the hypnotization. I looked up. A fine, young man, was sitting in front of me but his hair was a little too messed up. I thought to myself "What's with him? What would have made him do that to his own hair?" Before I could completely sympathize with him, I realized a scary thing. It was a mirror! The man was, in fact, me! My heart stopped beating for a while. I froze. A porcupine would have looked at me and felt better about itself. I got really hot under the collar, rose angrily, and turned around. The entire brigade read my rage and declared an emergency execution of plan B. The woman on the couch crossed legs, the four hotties stood in an indescribably sexy posture and the rest of the women exclaimed in chorus "Wow!!!".
I smiled, thanked them for everything, and walked out. I could hear laughters behind me as I left the salon.

At home, my mom answered the door,
Mom: "Look gentleman, we already told two of your colleagues that we don’t want the detergent which removes grease stains in one wash and ink stains without even washing. Now just get lost."
Me: "What? Mom, it's me".
Mom: "Ankit!!! What happened to you? I told you not to mess around with electrical equipments".

I have been drawing similar reactions from all the people I know. On the bright side of it, I am at least drawing attention. I remember watching a Yoga program on television, which taught how to save yourself from falling into such temptation. Just close your eyes, take a deep breath, and think about your credit card bills. Since that day, whenever I come across a short skirt, I say to myself: "The hell with Yoga. I am going to enjoy the sight."