Bitch Barbie Bimbette

Woah, a combination of the three is a man’s ultimate dream. The bitch has claws and makes her own decisions, Barbie is pretty and smart as ken is always in her shadow and the bimbette is the arm candy and she enjoys that position. Denials I hear at the table, loud denials saying utter rubbish over the sushi and sake, yea those are the lunches we attend as we are uber cool and can afford it. We don’t call our sisters sluts anymore, unless they are serious competition or we hate them enough which is more often than not. See we’re not confused, we know whom we hate and whom we like. We’ve reserved the term slut for appendages that are dipped into every pond, river, lake. And talking about sizes, we do overlook the male size as long as the size of the rock, house , car and everything else can be bigger, flashier than the shutterbugs.

Had lunched with the well heeled ladies this afternoon. The sisterhood bond over a rump steak and iced tea. Once out of the door, it frightens me if I too am the end of the gossip stick. Its amazing how lurid details about peoples sex lives flow forth over straws and paper napkins. I do believe women bitch far more than men, men discuss jock and chaddi straps and swap stories of the supposed swinging women who am sure do not even know of their existence. Bitching takes all dimensions. The afternoon’s conversation veered towards homely women, some from my very backyard who are deflowered by so many gardeners I doubt there’s any nectar left. I thought I was built of sterner stuff since I looked slightly flushed with the conversation.

Of diamond merchants, builders wives, all well named women in society who pose for the shutterbugs with the right Fendi bag matched by the wrong outfit and even more ghastly shoe. Why must they all run out and buy the same bag in the same colour. I guess the stores have figured out how many of those bags to order as they have done the census on the fashion clueless, moneyed ladies .

I question what prompts these ladies in the right societies to stay in such marriages, compromise is the word. Give up all this and move to where, Virar and do the smelly armpit local train travel. Yes I have questioned why don’t they leave, been told time and again, its part of the silent marriage contract. In the Hindu marriage contract they get nada (Spanish for nothing) if they step out of the laxman rekha, yes all they are left with is the husband’s nada( Indian pantaloon string) in their hands, which wont buy them groceries forget the Gucci.