We are a family of three. My mom, dad and me. I’m 16 years old and soon would be going for higher studies. My dad and mother both are doctors and the future vision they have for me is one with a white coat on. However,  from my eyes the picture looks quite different. This is the story of what fake bags did to me.

It’s not that I abhor the white color but I usually had fun with the other colours. Yes, I always wanted to be a fashion designer. I like colours and I adore to play around and express employing the same. What best could be aside from taking up a fashion coming up with course and earn from what I really like to do. But, my folks had a different plan for me. If I look at the situation I shall not hold them incorrect from where there are standing and researching the situation. They have worked awfully hard through out their life for building this Nursing Home that they have today. They started from nothing for this retirement home compromising on their temptations and now they need that I should be on the same lines, so that what they have constructed from their blood & sweat should be taken to better heights by me.

I on the other hand have little interest in medical science. In reality I can’t even understand the particular functionality of human digestive system forget being a doctor, wearing that white coat. I remember being a kid there were these regulars that we had to clear. My father was extremely particular about my studies. And I on the other had would win art competition and craft workshops but would fail to get the bare minimum in science particularly. Hence, when ever I might have the report card reflecting the result of the periodicals I might sneak it some where that can’t be reached by my parents. Thus, the teachers were instructed at the college by my parents to look for the signatures before the teacher accepts my report card.

This caught me straight up. As in case I shall show the report card to my father he would ground me for a fortnight and if I wouldn’t get it signed then the teacher wouldn’t accept the same and my oldsters would at last be summoned. I was truly encircled. While thinking of a way out I was surfing the television channels there had been this commercial about fake bags that saved me from dying. I faked my dad’s signatures and saved me. When my pop got to understand about this I was grounded for 8 months. It was hisideous.

Though, this is not some thing that I’m happy with, neither would I recommend the same, but at times you need to have your way out. I could not be a doctor, neither could I be a fashion designer I design handbags for Chanel and whenever I see an ad, a label or a board that reads fake bags reminds me of faking my dads signatures and being grounded for 8 months straight.

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