Clothes and clothes and no

I'm a simple bean, used to wearing any old t-shirt (preferably with a cool print on it, pledging allegiance to something or the other) and any old shorts/three-fourth bottoms depending on the weather. However, of late I've been experimenting a bit with the skirts and tops residing at the back of my messy, messy cupboard of clothes - mixing and matching, and making new outfits. It works out well, because though my current lifestyle isn't really conducive to wearing these clothes out of the house to someplace where I won't stick out like a lock of neon pink hair in a pile of hair donations to Thirupathi, I can take them for a tentative spin around the house, to my grandmother's and maybe to the nearby supermarket.

Now, as exciting as this all is, looking feminine, and flouncy, and slightly bohemian at times, I can't wear certain outfits that would be a one hundred percent match to the ideas in my head because, you see, they are far too sexy for this country I live in. There's always the risk of eyes on you, and catcalls and, god forbid, grabby hands, even in the supposedly safest city in all of the twenty nine states. To top it all, even if I don't get stares from creepy weirdos, I get stares from judgemental aunties for reaching besharmi ke height and having no maanam.

I can, for the most part, can deal with these looks I might get, but I am obviously disallowed from wearing said clothes because of the previously mentioned issues.

It's a real shame.