Like most little girls, I loved to play dress up when I was little. My Grandma bought me plastic high heels and washable nail polish from Kmart and I rocked family room fashion shows. Junior and senior proms and my wedding I wore fancy formal gowns, had my hair done, all to look as pretty as I could for my hubby. In the beginning of our marriage, I never felt good in a sari, like an imposter wearing hand-me-downs with colors that didn’t compliment my complexion or hang right on my frame. But, I did. Dressing up was fun at times. It wasn’t until two decades later, and 5 kids later, when a cousin got married in a lavish wedding in Florida, that I felt like a sari belonged on me. Because my mother-in-law bought it for me. Because I picked it out. Because my daughter picked one out on the same shopping trip. Because my kids and my mom donned Indian attire, too. My hubby didn’t but, that’s like whatever. 🙂
We had so much fun that night. Our family, not the Indian side or the white side, just our family, partied until we dropped.