Welcome, World (Arya)

There are things a girl will never forget.

Her first kiss, her first dress, the first time she tried mum's shoes and makeup on, and felt like she could own the world. The warmth and comfort those memories bring, are feelings only a girl will understand.

But at the turn of our twentieth birthdays, thought Mila (my roommate and persistent friend) and I, we feel those familiar feelings slipping away, flowing into the river of thoughts, identities and endless work hours that have begun to occupy a major part of our lives.

When was the last time we were that little girl? When was the last time we allowed her to spread her wings, grow up into the woman she always wanted to be?

After years of being the person we so desperately wanted the world to believe we were, we have had. Enough. How much longer could we have snuck around, being girls in private time, and strong minded intellectuals in the public arena? How long could we sigh at the glossy pages of a Vogue in the privacy of our rooms, hummed a verse of Madonna in the shower and immediately felt embarrassed, put on a flowy white skirt, twirl in front of the mirror, and then promptly switch it in for a pair of worn jeans? Yeah, yeah, don't care what people think and all that, but honestly, we're never going to be that strong. How could we- the ones who just...assumed that the girliest girls are also the dumbest ones (Fine. Not us. Me.), let our Girl Pride flag fly?

This summer is going to be a momentous one. We're pulling out that girl. Wearing her on our sleeves. Giving her her release. Allowing her to sing her Madonna, and wear her skirts, and put on her makeup, without caring about what anybody would think.

It's time to trade in those baggy jeans and loose t-shirts you put on every morning to tell the world you're too smart to give a fuck, and put on something you PICKED OUT after HOURS of deliberation, instead. Because who the hell cares. Those people who say "OMG, makeup? YOU?" are not the ones who get to call the shots. They're not the ones you're putting on the makeup for, either. You're doing it for you. (Right. King of cliches.)

Not that we're advocating the whole "be-a-virgin-and-love-pink-flowers" outlook. We don't even like pink. Well, Mila does. I don't. But what we do know, is that everybody deserves a girls' night out. And to compensate for all the tomboy-ing dilly-dallying we've been doing for the last four years of our lives, we're doing thirty girls' days out.

And because we have no other POSSIBLE way to allow ourselves to be those girls, we've gone and made ourselves a list. Yep. A list of things to do this summer. Everything we've always wanted to do, but never allowed ourselves to. Not lame-ass things, like bungee-jump, or scuba-diving. Tiny, important, colossal tasks, that we will accomplish.

In the biggest, most pulsating city in India. Nay, the world? Bombay, here we come.

And just in case you're thinking of us as high-waisted dungrees-and-thick-glasses wearing, braces clad closet lesbians, you're wrong.

We're pretty regular, if you think about it. Writers, adulterers, we swear like seamen and dress like them, too. (I want my Aldo boots, dammit! Enough of these ill-fitting jeans!) And we're in Bombay for the summer. Nice little innocent workaholics.

Love and hugs,

-Arya.

(Look forward to our list. Trust me, you should. It's going to be fun. And if you don't have plans for the summer, no matter where you're sitting, we have a couple things that could help you spend your time.)

;)

To a very, VERY adventurous thirty days.