Embarrassed…Or…Regret

Dude, recently I broke the superhero secret identity code as I found a deep secret to mine. Oh, Gee…! I’m a super-hero now.

And now with the kitty-cat out (aka toothy fairy tales and prophecies), I felt like nothing less than a super-hero. Eew! No, I'm not really a cat person but the furry things could fit in pairs. So, when I’m born like a million babies born in this part of subcontinent and world across minus the pomp and grandeur…I’ve a secret finally that make me lil’ distinguished. Ain’t so?

Wat’s the secret, boy. Oh! Haven’t I shared with you? He…he!
That winter when my mother strolled to local dispensary to find whether they could do some nice trimming of her unshapely rotund belly. When discovered that it not an early stage or an easy task, the ever defiant ‘mom’ look out for pills that could flush down 6-month foetus. Well, that’s ‘me—to be born’. Discoveries run within my family gene and mothers from generation have the credits of having always discovered the deep secret acts, always. My fairy godmother or my grandmother therefore stepped in to do her part of contribution and cut a historic niche.

Stiff lips and yearning for a ‘male child’ finally dispel the dozes of pills and so, I am born with a lil’ secret to my demi-heroism.

Of recent, when my sneaky mom looked under the rug and found the truth that somewhere sticks to my neurons like ‘glue’: I’m embarrassed or should I rephrase to tell the truth…’I am filled with regret’ for having scrapped the event in a piece of sheet, one lonely evening. Or otherwise, ‘my mom is either embarrassed or regressive’ having discovered the secret discovery.