The national sport of India is . . . . HOCKEY!

FYI

http://www.theholidayspot.com/indian_independence_day/national_symbols.htm

The end of the sari story:

This sari business is far, far more complicated than I at first expected. I mean, it just looks like a few yards of cloth strategically wrapped around a girl.

I bought this pretty blue sari with a gold and copper boarder. I went to the tailor to check out the scene. I decided to give him an easy project before we got into a sari blouse. I had him make a kamese- one of those knee length loose fitting tunic-type shirts. He took my measurements, being overly cautious to not touch the ample goods. That was fine by me. I figured, he was the tailor, he knew how to take measurements and make clothes according to his own measurements.

After what seemed like forever (Wal-Mart has instilled instant gratification into my very heart and soul) I went back, picked up my new clothes, and went home to shimmy into them. To my (great) dismay my boobies were pressed flat like pancakes. I’m not even talking sports bra flat. I’m saying it was like I was getting a mammogram inside my shirt . . . it was disturbing to say the least.

I knew that this tailor was not my choice for a form fitting sari blouse. I had to find a lady tailor who would understand the delicate nature of the female form.

I wandered around the neighborhood until I looked into a dark little shop and found a lady sitting behind an ancient sewing machine. I told her I needed a blouse for my first sari. She measured EVERYTHING. Honestly- there was a lot of measuring going on to make a half shirt, but I’m down with thoroughness.

Again I waited less than patiently to go back to pick up the newest addition to my wardrobe of the world. When I got there she wanted me to try the blouse on before I left.

Okay- so I had to put it on over my T-shirt (remember that sari blouses are generally tight little numbers.)

So I tried to get it on, but it was too small. The tailor lady said, “No, it’s not small, it’s only because of your T-shirt and your ‘vest,’ it will fit.”

My ‘vest’ what the . . . I guess she meant my bra- so am I not supposed to wear a bra with a sari blouse? Who should I ask? Is there like a “Dear Aleezahtasha” in the news paper that I can pose all my embarrassing questions to?

As I pondered these questions the tailor lady came to “help.” But, as it had been true only moments before, it was still true at that point, the blouse was too small- so two more ladies came to “help.” Now there were three women trying their best to push my girls into a too small blouse.

Finally they were convinced it wasn’t going to happen. –whew- there was almost a riot!

I have come to the conclusion that these people take my measurements; write them down then, when they go to make the item, they look at what they wrote and think, “That can’t be right- that’s HUGE! I’ll make it smaller and it will be perfect.”

Crazy little-tiny-brown people!

Anyway- she made it bigger- well, big enough to get it on my body but barely. Eh- I need to lose a few pounds anyway.