I AM POSH, RICH AND LYING

It has been a few months since I started my life as an international student in England. Life has been good. Just eventful enough for me to not to die from the lack of vitamin D or from the overdose of alcohol.  

I like the place and even a few people. Lets just say that so far I can't think of any major scarring experiences, except for maybe one, when a 10 year old kid on the street yelled "nice ass honey" at me. But as a girl who is used to walking on the streets of New Delhi, it didn't take me very long to get over it. 

AND THEN THIS HAPPENED -

So, I was supposed to be doing this presentation about a coke ad in my class today morning. I thought it was going alright until I unconsciously said the weirdest thing that could possibly ever come out of a mouth.

Long story short-

What I thought I was going to say: "I could not recognise this mall . So, I thought I'd ask a few rich posh friends who visit malls a lot if they had seen these machines in any shopping malls in Delhi and they said No. So, I guess, they have been installed in underdeveloped areas not frequented by such rich posh people."

What I actually said:  "I asked a few friends of mine if they had seen these machines anywhere in Delhi and they said No. I have actually never seen this mall myself. So, I guess, they installed them in places not frequented by the rich and the posh."

WHAAAATT? 

(Now, think Freudian slip raised to the power of infinity, causing the kind of irreparable damage that happens to some kind of an experimental hybrid electrical car, when it collides with a Hummer. Please go back to your seat right now and practice facepalm for an hour because this presentation is so over. It's unsalvageable.)

What everyone now thinks I am:  Regina George + Blair Waldorf + Kim Kardashian. Basically, a total elitist bitch. I have to mention that I am already a part of this hypothetical cheerleading squad for a football team called "Pitches be tripping". This cheerleading squad consists of three people. One of them is a boy. And despite that they are at the bottom of the league table.

What I really am: A struggling student failing to find a half decent roof to live under in London that doesn't render her bankrupt or force her to auction her entire wardrobe on ebay. This struggling student, apart from trying to advertise for British brands she has probably never heard of, also happens to be plotting a fake visa wedding to actually be able to work here after spending thousands of pounds to get education in a country , to which her people have swarmed in such a copious fashion that the biblical locust has been put to shame. So, basically nobody really wants you here (except for maybe this one friend of yours who keeps getting nightmares about you suddenly leaving England and getting adopted by evil parents who wont let you drink coffee). 

What I do now: Go to cost cutters in neon yellow spongebob pyjamas, buy any bottle of wine that has words with slanting lines on top of its e's and a's because that's how I buy my wines. I don't know how is it that I cant distinguish between the ones that are meant for the posh rich people and the ones that are for the commoners. They all taste like grape vomit anyway. But I am sure I couldn't have picked a non posh one, because thats just what I do. So, I now go home and drown my sorrows in my very posh wine, while simultaneously having a posh dance party, for one, on my posh bedroom desk because I cant really afford to go out.

You should also know that the above post has been written in a very posh British accent and hence must be read accordingly, only because "I" exude class and poshness. 

What everyone is still thinking of me after reading this : I can't believe she went to cost cutters to buy her wine and not Waitrose. Probably lying.

Hybrid electrical car/ Divya.