Retail therapy

It’s become such a problem, writing anything at all. In desperate need to get my writing juices flowing – all other juices freely flowing, thank you – I shall try the simple mantra of ‘Even if the shit you write kills you, (try and) write every day’. So be warned, everyone. Due to my complete apathy towards writing anything that could change lives (rolls eyes), I shall take a leaf out of Mad Momma’s blog and write about some of my recent purchases (!).

While browsing through MM’s post, I realised I’m really not into buying jewellery, or for that matter wearing much of it. I love wearing toe rings and my favourite anklets. I can also comfortably wear ear rings but beyond that, I find it very hard to deck up. I don’t wear bracelets and even if I try a necklace, I end up taking it off before stepping out. I wear two very simple, silver rings but cannot get myself to wear the nice-looking, big, fancy ones that are so in vogue today. I do love looking at them though.

It’s also been ages since I’ve bought any clothes. While the last seven months or so have been about restricted clothing choice due to the growing belly; I also don’t like much that I see in the stores here. Couple that with the fact that finding stuff in my size is really tough – Aussie girls are bigger, Asian girls are skinnier, I’m stuck in between – and ‘retail therapy’ is more like a torture session for me. Most times I’ve gone shopping for clothes, I’ve come back depressed.

All my recent shopping, especially since I’ve been living in Melbourne has either been plants, things to prettify the house, books (of course) and shoes. I love shopping for the house! I love shoes! I lurve books! I am the happiest when left in a nursery or a home-ware store. Like some women get off on clothes and jewellery, I get off on whisks, cake tins, pretty plates and bake-ware. And pots and planters or quirky artifacts. And I DO love a good bargain.

Here are some of the home stuff I’ve been buying: Let me know what you think and let’s compare where you’ve been spending your money.

<--- Box from K-Mart: I use this for storing buttons, ribbons and other sewing paraphernalia. I love the trunk-like look and it's the right size for my stuff.

Planter from Complete Garden Store --->Supposed to be for putting pots in or if you are more adventurous, lining with moss and planting herbs/flowers. Currently though I'm using it for all my art-craft stuff, crayons, brushes etc. Plans are to paint it soon, line it with plastic and hay and plant petunias or freesias.

<--- Jug from 'antique' store, can't remember: I love the colours! It alternates as a water jug and as seen here, as a flower vase.

Candle stand Yarraville bric-a-brac store---> Partner absolutely hates the colour, the reason I bought it in the first place! It's a bright orange, somewhat bordering on fluoro. Since I've been wearing a lot of black and grey lately, I compensate for colours elsewhere. Looks really pretty with a lit up candle inside.


<--- Big wooden candle holder on sale, Dusk: I have a weakness for wooden things, especially if they look non-modern. While I appreciate the sleek, 'minimalistic' or whatever-it's-called look often pictured in home decor magazines -- all chrome, steel and whites etc -- I find it quite sterile, somehow lacks feeling. (The candle is from Le Desire, Moonee Ponds, Egyptian musk scented, mmm). PS: For those in Melbourne, the Dusk store at Melbourne Central is shutting down; store closing sale on currently.

Votive candle holders made from recycled glass, Dusk ---> Again because I loved the red and it was on sale. There was another candelabra that was really, really pretty but I really could not justify buying it. More because it wouldn't fit into my house than any other reason.

Woven basket from Chinese gift store: I adore baskets of any sort and will usually find a reason and a need even if neither exist. This one isn't wood, some synthetic material that looks woodsy. It's very light, cleans easily and looks nice. I've been hunting for a big, round basket with a lid to store all my wool in, no luck so far. Perhaps I'll find it in one of those stores with old stuff -- Melbourne has many of them -- but for some bizarre reason Partner refuses to drive me to one. :)

Shoe ashtray from some nursery I can’t remember ---> I love nurseries and not just for the awesome greenery and plants. Nurseries here have some unique ideas and often have pottery or other art-work by independent artists. I don't think this shoe-ashtray is very unique, but I found it very realistic...and I do like that sand brown. Since we have two smokers (one on a break) at home and some friends smoke as well, having an outdoor ashtray is a must. It's highly unpleasant chasing after sucked up butts (please note sad attempt at butt joke).

<--- Herb pots from Costco: Originally these were meant to be potted with herbs and kept inside the kitchen. However given my ability to manage to crowd bench space -- and we have a lot of it in the new house -- I decided to keep them outside. Currently each has one hyacinth bulb in it (just look at the baby shoots). I shall take this moment to gloat: I'm good with foliage but not very good with growing flowers. The hyacinths, bought last winter, were my first attempt at bulbs and they revived this year! One of them has even given off two mini bulbs so now I have five! I am delighted.

Lastly the recent book purchases: Rana Dasgupta's Solo was Partner's purchase and he totally loved the book. I'm still to read it. The book was a revelation to me because Partner strictly reads books on history, war and about historical people who waged wars. Solo was fiction and it was one of the fastest reads I've seen Partner go through. It was also one of the first books -- some chapters at least -- that he read out loud to me in bed. I love it when Partner reads books, he is a complete natural. Given his talent and Dasgupta's brilliance at creating scenes from words, I'm looking forward to either reading it or having Partner complete reading it to me.
Sara Douglass's Infinity Gate was the last in the Darkglass Mountain trilogy that I'd written about in earlier. Given that Ms Douglass is dealing with chemotherapy and has written about how she's over writing SFF, let's see if she writes any other books.
Despite the price tag that I mentioned when the book came out, could not resist buying Pratchett's Unseen Academicals and thoroughly enjoyed reading it. I can't wait for Bub to grow up (can't wait for s/he to be born!) so that I can read Harry Potter and the Discworld series to him/her.
Larsson's The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo was bought yesterday and haven't started reading it yet. Let's see what all the hype's about, eh?
Charlaine Harris's Dead in the Family is book 10 in the Sookie Stackhouse series. The inspiration behind HBO's True Blood teleserial -- that's currently started season three and has dominated TRP ratings in the past -- the book was fun, but not as much when I started reading the series. Somewhere I get the feeling Harris is selling out. But then, who wouldn't if there's money to be made?
The Cookery Encyclopedia and delicious sweets were both bargain buys, after reading and gardening, cooking is my preferred activity.

Potty Survey: Bowelled over

It is better to have a man who farts and laughs than have a man who farts and blames it on you.

–Kungfucius

Those who have been on this blog for long will remember that in January 2008, we all participated in something called The Potty Survey.

Based on the answers given in the survey and answers received by way of random shit-talking, here are some potty myths and truths.

1. Everyone has experienced the feeling of really wanting to shit but not finding an appropriate place. Unfortunates have experienced it more than once.
2. Depending on geographical locations – and cultural sensibilities – everyone has had at least one experience of no toilet paper, or no water or no mug for the water.
3. Everyone has felt the pressure in impossible-to-leave situations like church weddings, presentation before the CEO or funerals.
4. Everyone, at some point, has looked at their shit to see if it was "all right".
5. Most people are really happy talking about shit, literally.
6. Mostly it is women who go, “Eww, I don’t talk about potty.” Such women are lying because everyone talks shit some of the time.
7. Any man who goes “eww” about shit is to be completely avoided. Research has proven that it is not a natural man.
8. Most women have had to go to a men’s toilet at some point in their life.
9. Most people have realised that it is really not easy shitting under an open sky. How did the ancestors do it?
10. All men think their poo does not smell. Most women deny it.
11. A man’s urgency to shit increases with the frequency of morning farts. The louder it is, the prouder they are.
12. Increasing number of women also think it is cool to fart. It’s part of a new movement called fart feminism.
13. Most men take 20 minutes or more for their morning shit.
14. Most women finish the job and are gone in 60 seconds (or 5 minutes).
15. Most men will go once in the morning and be done with it.
16. Most women have more than one potty trip. Maybe it has something to do with Point 14.
17. Women talk about shit as much as men do; only women call it “bowel movements”.
18. Most people have wondered why a baby’s shit smells as bad as it does...
19. Constipation causes more trouble than heartbreak.
20. Most smokers will always save a cigarette for next morning’s poo.
21. Most smokers have dropped a cigarette/ lighter/ matchbox in a shitpot at least once.
22. Perfectly working toilet flushes will mysteriously stop working at a party.
23. Someone will always leave a decorated dump in the above situation.
24. It is easier solving a murder than finding out above mentioned dumpster.
25. Majority have had the uncomfortable experience of shitting in their pants; almost everyone thought it was a fart when it was much more sinister…
26. All parents have at least one embarrassing potty story about you. They always choose the most populated family gatherings to narrate such stories.
27. Most people who say other people are full of shit are in denial about themselves.

I love to lick...and other things!

This tag -- the first tag I am responding to! -- was insisted upon by Koshy, MaxJayJay, Catmeister and Mamma Mia.

Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

(I am doing this on my blog BUT: (To do this, go to “notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the application).

Despite having an entire blog to myself... 25 random things about me:

1. I cannot remember jokes or rather, can only remember one joke at a time, which I will repeat at every party. Current joke involves a Chihuahua and a female elephant. Those interested, shout out!

2. I don’t like men with hairless arms. Hairless chests, is okay, hairless arms….pfft (thus I cannot stand Rafael Nadal)

3. I hate four-boobs…when you wear a wrong-sized bra and the top of your breasts pop out…thus, four boobs. I consider it the biggest faux pas.

4. I am extremely uncomfortable with compliments, to the point of being rude. I think people are lying when they compliment, especially when it’s about physical appearance. In the same vein, I am even worse when I am criticised. (wicked grin)

5. I LOVE my boobs. Bwahaha.

6. I have an authority-issue…sooner or later I will hate/dislike my boss.

7. If I was assured I will not be caught, there are at least two people I can murder without any conscience. I think I will make a good assassin.

8. If I could Ctrl+Z… I would've remain a virgin till my wedding day/night. Oh well. Go figure.

9. Despite others being the ‘cause’ of the heartbreak…it has always been me who has walked out of a relationship(s)

10. I have kissed a friend’s boyfriend. :( I consider it one of the shittiest things I have done and will never forgive myself for it.

11. I use a tongue cleaner…Partner thinks its weird, but without it I feel unclean.

12. I like licking -- using my fingers that is! -- the bottom of the pan when certain dishes have been cooked. ‘Kadhi’ and Maggi top the list.

13. I used to chew my nails to little, bitty pieces. Now I do it only when I am EXTREMELY excited (does not include sex). I still consider my nails as rather, er, chewable. Hah. (thank god they don’t have nicotine in them! alarmed)

14. I get extremely uncomfortable and possessive -- I actually throw a tantrum and can lose my temper -- with anyone else working/ using my kitchen. Especially if it’s another woman, even if it’s my mother. (!)

15. I used to be VERY particular about everyone using MY name…no nicknames, no shortcuts, just Jhoomur. Now I am not as Nazi about it… (hmmm…maybe I need to be. If people can pronounce Dostoevsky they can bloody well pronounce my name)

16. I would love to give a dance performance before an audience and receive rave reviews for it. The last was when I was 13 -- Bharatnatyam -- before the then-Vice President of India. Dr SD Sharma, at Siri fort auditorium, New Delhi.

17. I would love, love, LOVE to have a horse as a pet.

18. I would love to tango/ salsa with Partner… REAL steamily. However, this will probably go unfulfilled -- learning dance is anathema to Partner -- unless we can salsa to the tunes of market movements and barley figures.

19. I would really like to get married… at a time when I and the other mean our vows. To just KNOW that I am loved, as I am. And I would consider myself blessed to have a baby, my baby. My child. My existence. I already love him/her…it’s weird.

20. I fervently wish to take my parents out of the country…make them see the world. Papa loves reading and watching National Geographic…I want to see the look on his face when he steps on to the lands he reads about… for Ma, I want to buy her everything she wants. Anything, everything and remove every, single, teensy, vestige of the childhood -- where they took everything from her -- or her youth -- where she gave everything to us.

21. I find the idea of threesomes (yes, that threesome) scary. :P No, I haven’t.

22. My biggest, biggest crush was a man at least 22 years my senior. He was one of the cruellest men I knew. He never hurt me though. Funny.

23. I can ‘read’ other peoples’ relationships. Whether pretending to be happy or whatever, I have NEVER been wrong in reading relationships. Except mine!

24. If I could choose between becoming a vampire or a werewolf, I’d choose to be a vampire (love the clothes) … who can mate with werewolves. :D Go Lycans!

25. I find it very hard completing tags…simply because it feels like an editor telling me what to do…goes against the grain!

(26... I really, really miss my Golu.)

People who I tag:

1.Mamma Mia

2. Catmiester

3. MaxJayJay

4. Mystique

5. Mad Haiku

6. Goofy Mumma

7. Mad Momma

8. Eveline

9. Dew Drop Dreams

10. Pirate of the Arabian

11. Sree

12. Eve's Lungs

13. Chandni

14. Silvara

15. Freespirit

The other names are on the Facebook note...

Older, wiser, sexier. You bet.

After 29 years – oh well one day to go, tomorrow being the day I was born – I have finally realized that change is constant…particularly hairstyle change. My changing hairstyles – whether self-chosen or instigated by Mother – have also reflected my changing state of mind. I have also realized that (unfortunately) Mothers seem to think they have the best idea of what style looks best us. For a long period – till 25 years for me and I suspect adolescence for today’s generation – it is our mothers who largely decide our hairstyles. Even when we are 45, mothers will often comment, complain and try and get us to change how our hair looks.

Looking back at pictures of yore, I think my mother played around with my hairstyle a lot… Sometimes I wonder if that should be allowed. Y’know how some mothers make baby boys look like girls and other mothers make that fountain-choti on top of their little girls heads? (Choti means ponytail and ‘fountain-choti’ is the one where you have a ponytail on top of your head and the hair spouts out) My hair has changed so tremendously in texture over the years that I still have doubts if my parents have told me the truth about my parentage. Three things make me highly suspicious I could be a case of a baby-mix-up:

1. I was born on a train. Almost.: My grandparents stayed in this small town called Nepanagar – was known for newspaper mills – and my 9-month pregnant mom was on a train to her parents’ place. An hour or so from Nepanagar, mom’s contractions began and they had to pull the chain, stop the train, get off at this town called Khandwa – also the birthplace of Kishore Kumar, but I can’t sing to save my life – and there I was born in a local hospital. My mother says the doctor who delivered me looked like Kadar Khan. I am supposed to have absolutely, straight, jet black hair and looked Chinese. HOW could I have changed THAT much over the years? What if Kadar Khan switched babies?

2. Mother also says that I cried instantly (LOOK at Kadar Khan, who wouldn’t?) and started talking at 8 months, had perfectly clear speech – it was Tamil that I learnt to speak first – and was a natural bully. Apparently when other babies were busy pooing in their diapers, I was walking around reading fairy tales and telling people how to change the décor of their house. Both my parents are not overbearing and as kids were bullied by others. Where did I pick up bullying then? Again both my parents are not very keen on reading – though Dad did pile me with books straight away – so why was I showing interest?

3. I apparently also had this strange habit of leaving my shoes at peoples’ houses and have allegedly run away on two occasions – all BEFORE the age of 3 – once with a milkman and another time with a vegetable vendor, on his bicycle handle, sitting in his vegetable basket. Apparently both times it was because they were telling me stories. Again, both my parents are very respectable (Ma is painfully shy) and themselves were known to be very obedient and harmless as kids: So whatever happened to me? My suspicions grew manifold when in one of her helpless fits at my antics – this is when I am about 22 – Ma screamed in frustration and asked, “I am simple woman. Your father is a simple man. How the hell are you such a WILDCAT?” I responded saying it was perhaps because they had picked up someone else’s baby because they’d known I would be much smarter. Haha, she was sooooo pissed at that.

To get back to the original point, my changing hairstyles – whether self-chosen or instigated by Mother – have also reflected my changing state of mind.

<-- 8 months old: Straight and black, which was cut short and made me look like a boy. It is also alleged that I had a fondness for walking around bare-chested. I looked Chinese and didn’t have a nose. (It's not a racist comment as being Chinese and not having a nose are NOT related)

3-years-old: Local tomboy, loved hot pants, had eyebrows that defied shape. I had two cases of boy-beating against me and also had the stance of a boy. I laughed loudly that was encouraged but created problems later when my father had to warn me before army parties, “Be a lady. Don’t laugh like a rickshawallah” Whatever. Even now I have to watch it so that I stand and sit “gracefully”; have given up on the laugh.

4-years-old: Head completely shaved off. You don’t have to see that. WHY do parents do that? Can you imagine going from silky smooth hair to nothing…The only thing I remember about going bald is that the scalp feels like a Velcro strip when the hair’s growing back. That was also when we were in Calcutta and perhaps why I don’t remember ANYTHING of my school years: Repressed memories.

5-years-old: Hair is now growing back and is all wavy… very suspicious. Also marks the sudden emergence of nose and the only other time that I have been skinny in life. Apparently my parents went and prayed that I would eat. And then I didn’t stop till 25!

7-years-old: Had these stupid fringe on my forehead that somehow always made me look guilty of having done something wrong. In this picture, I have done nothing to my brother except hold him down and refuse to let him move till the pic is taken. --->

9-11-years-old: Various stages of hair growing out where they went from two ponytails on the side of the head, to two pigtails that stuck out at 180 degrees and finally...

<--- 12-years-old: bushy eyebrows and thunder thighs. Also looking pissed off because I wanted to take one of those posing with finger-on-Taj Mahal’s-spiral pictures and the fucking photographer said, “Baby aap thodi nati ho.” (You are a little short)

13-20: Various stages of long hair along with various exams like 10th & 12th board exams thrown in. Also sat for the pre-medical exams to get into some medical school to become a doctor. Obviously, I didn't and then we came to Delhi and I took up a course in journalism... And started working in first year of college.

21-years-old---> Glory hair days, in this I’m posing for a shoot for India Today. We had launched thenewspapertoday.com (its now defunct) and the advert idea was to have our reporters and editors pose with the tagline being, “How new is your news?” It was a cool idea though my picture was never used in the magazine.

<--- 22-years-old: The website closed due to lack of advertisers -- also one of the first news sites to try charging people for news -- and we launched the afternoon paper Today where along with reporting, I – and other youngsters – were made to model as well. We weren’t even paid. This was posing for a story on how beer was getting popular in the summers. I don’t drink beer and though not visible, I am lying flat on the table because all the boys were tall!

23, 24: Pictures from here and there, hair similar to the above picture except that I look stoned in all pictures (I wonder why, haha) so am not putting those up.

25-years-old: The longest my hair has ever been I had taken to wearing sarees and big bindis to minimize the weight elsewhere. It’s called optical illusion. This was posing for photographer Anay Mann’s exhibition called, A Generation in Transition (has also been used in Tehelka). ---->

26-years-old: The worst hair-disaster ever when I chopped off my hair – went from reaching-butt to reaching-shoulder-blades AND had blonde highlights. Black and blonde don’t go together. Please don’t do it. Such a drastic change was the direct result of me not thinking straight at various levels…

27-years-old: Further disasters when I go in for a hair makeover thing -- which was also suggested by me, groan – for our new Friday pullout. Was working with Times of India then and had launched, What’s Hot. The first pic is before the haircut – and no, he isn’t a God-man, he was stylist and was French – and had promised that from "looking beautiful" he would make me "look stunning."
All I can say is I was stunned that's HOW short my hair was cut and apparently the whole “look” was to look disheveled.

28-years-old: This was taken on the first day of joining ibnlive.com. Had decided that the only way to survive the makeover disaster was to wait for the hair to grow out. As my Dad politely described that stage: “If you sit on the pavement with a bowl, you will look extremely convincing.”


29-years-old, Current!
I am the happiest I have been with my hair in a lifetime. It could also be because I have been the happiest that I have ever been in my living-alone adult life. I don’t want a new hairstyle because I am happy with the way I look. I am confident about who I am – largely that is! – I am enjoying the few people I want in my life and I am looking forward to the changes that are perhaps in the offing.

For the last two years, whenever anyone has asked, I have said I am 30. I think I am going to stick to saying ‘29’ for another year. (smiles) The best part about being 29 though is that I can look back at myself and laugh at who I was, what I tried to be and not feel bad anymore about who I can never be. Some of you have written in – others say it on my face – that my blog sounds unhappy and angry. Well, I have been both unhappy and progressively angrier for quite a while; things are slowly and surely changing. For those who have stuck around; stick around and perhaps finally, I might learn to write a happy post. I am going to be older and wiser after all!

I have a bum, I will blow you sky high

Bum = bomb (in hindi)
“I swear to drunk I am not God.” – alcohol-loving friend’s instant messenger (IM) handle
“A pat on the back is two inches away from a kick on the ass.” – Boss’s handle
“Deja-brew: The feeling that you’ve had this coffee before.” – Over-worked colleague’s handle
“I have a bum, I will blow you sky high.” – Mine, because I am bored.

Aiiya. SOMETHING is irritating me, cant put a finger on it and it’s irritating me further. Ever get that feeling? Read somewhere, long time back, that only god can ‘want’, human beings should ‘wish’. Hrmph. Why? Ever had a coughing fit with a fruit facemask plastered on? And the mask has settled in a way that doesn’t allow you to move your face? Weird experience.

Think the salon/ parlour girl tried to kill me today. First she burned my thigh with scalding wax. Then she stuffed my nostrils with massage cream and I couldn’t move my mouth because I had a facemask on. Bitch. Noticed how after a trim your hair always looks shorter than you intended it to be? And one eyebrow looks thinner than the other?

(Just got the first reaction to the I-got-a-bum handle. Friend wrote in saying, “Explain.”)

Ok, advice needed. Say you got a bed that had Kamasutra figurines etched on the headpost. Will you show it to your parents?

And WHY do women who SCREAM during waxing try and get a bikini wax? This woman came out crying, with a red face and snot flowing out. Gross. If I were her husband/boyfriend and had seen her in that state, would put me off forever. Shave woman, shave. But didn’t say it, somehow didn’t think she’d appreciate advice. Between, do any of you sneeze when getting your upper lip done? (Boys please avoid answering this, I am still getting used to men tweezing.)

Sometimes, no matter how much you want to jump someone because they are looking simply TASTY sitting on a beanbag, you can’t. Sometimes because the dog either gets in the way and thinks you want to play and sometimes because you are irritated and don’t know why. So irritating.

Sometimes it’s really nice when you know you are lazy, the other knows you are lazy too, but no one calls you lazy and the other does all the work. Like reading online forms and applications for various things. I HATE reading online forms and applications.

Noticed how when you are trying to grow nails and all five on one hand are about to reach optimal length, one fucking nail breaks? Despite you drinking at least half a litre of milk everyday. What rot. I like saying “What rot.” Picked it off a friend. What rot what rot what rot…
Tududoo. That’s another one.

My dad hates the fact that I am very, er, “demonstrative” when speaking. I also give sound effects. Shrug. Do you?

I like writing posts with no sense to them.

Ever had sex with the feeling that something is watching you? Then turned on the light to find it’s a life-size teddy bear? Laughed with relief, turned your head and found the dog staring in through the window? Looking depressed?

Head-banging! THAT’s what I need for sure. A good session of wham-bam music and a neck pain the day later, lots of sweating. Haven’t been to a good gig in ages. But that’s not what’s irritating me. AAAARGH. (And no, that is not sex standing on your head, too much blood rush)

And I look VERY bad in passport pictures. VERY. I also have five pimples, all on the same side of the face. Not fair. The hair looks nice though.

Dad had gifted me eight sets of crystal glasses in different designs and shapes. Now only one set is left, crystal wine glasses. I broke one out of that as well. Only five left. I am a disaster with glassware.

I need adventure. Maybe need to travel. See a new place, somewhere other than Delhi. Need to meet people I like immediately. Participate in some sport and WIN. Have to win. Don’t like losing, I don’t have anything against losing, just that am a bad loser. I make a better winner. Haha.

Ok bas. Enough. Irritated, remember?

PS: People have Monday morning blues…I seem to have Saturday ones… most Saturday posts end up being random.

New poll up: Ugly men and pretty women!

URGENT: Chat box infiltration. Some arsehole is posing as me and posting replies in the chat box... two responses declaring "i am ghost" and that "pillsbury atta" one are NOT by me. Am off the chat box, feel free to leave comments there. And once the IP is tracked, will deal with things then. Rgds.

Hello! There's a new poll up -- check top right corner -- please do participate and let's see what we all have to say.
Taking Espera's suggestion, here go the results of the previous poll -- a 108 of you replied -- the corresponding article will soon follow:
Women dress up provocatively because:
1. She likes men letching at her 10 (9%)
2. She doesn’t want her man to look at other women 11 (10%)
3. She does not like other women looking better than her 17 (15%)
4. She likes looking hot and wants to feel good about herself 88 (81%)
5. She wants to keep her man on his toes by reminding him that she can get any other man she wants 29 (26%)