Why dad

I could utter nothing but ‘uhm’ as my dad stood in the middle of my room holding his old oversized shirt at me. 

‘Look, you might want to have this one?’ he asked me pointing his eyes down at the shirt held low by his hands.
‘It would look good on you, wouldn’t it?’ he continued.
‘Uhm’ I nodded.
He liked it when I wore the XXL clothes for he found them decent, while otherwise his face unhappy. When I wore fitted clothes, he would have to say ‘Should we buy you some new clothes? What you’re wearing have become small!’ on a serious note.
Unlike the other girls in my college I never had a fluke to wear lass lassie dresses. Well even if I got one, the colours, black and white my dad picked the most would ruin the exotism and pop up all simple. How a friend of mine would give me lectures for not wearing dresses that are fit as flea and once while we were walking in a mall together, she rolled up my shirt sleeves furthermore, till midpoint of my hand, trying it appear like that of girls’ shirts.
My dad, from the time I was little, bought me dresses bigger than my size, so it would last for long and for having poured money on the branded clothes, he wanted us, me and brother, to wear them for satisfied number of times. Which is why I still have dresses from ages ago. And while keeping my dad happy, I have had alot to hear from girls in trendy slim tops ‘Can we get in your shirt too?’
Once a sports trainer of a school I was newly admitted to, during the time of my dad’s transfer to a different city, questioned me on wearing colour dresses in the initial days when my uniforms were not ready. Mistaking the buttoned skirt I was wearing to men’s shirt, he asked me the question which boys later in my college days used to throw at my face ‘Dad’s shirt?’
My lips and nose turned pink as I was controlling my tears hard when there was a round of laughter by the children around along with the sports trainer himself. My mother somewhere fulfilled my desire of wanting to wear the kind of dresses I’d see with the other girls, those I’d ask my dad for but never got. She had bought me a baby pink ghagra for a relative’s wedding which I wore more than often out of charm until it didn’t fit me anymore.


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