size does matter

i have tried to bribe my weighing scale many times into showing me just the figure i want. but to no avail. going into apparel stores have become shameful, trying to fit into a double seater rickshaw is equally detrimental to self esteem. Many time i have just about thrown the other person travelling with me, off. Going to social gatherings are the worst. No one greets me with hi, hello and other pleasantries. They just shriek with mortification. I always thought... ok am fat, but am not thaaaaat fat. there is a difference. But all differences now become one with my waistline.

The thought of a gym makes me wanna crawl into a dark corner, the idea of morning walks make me sleepy, the mention of a diet... triggers a zillion cravings inside. I have given the word 'lardli' a new meaning. you know lard...as in fat?

i feel helpless in front of flurys or cookie jar, i would give them my purse as an offering in return of all the delightful pastries and other goodies they give me in return. and when guilt strikes i keep trying every other diet in the world only to increase my appetite... after breaking a zillion weight loss resolutions am a little miffed about the entire charade.

am angry at all those apparel stores who don't keep xl and xxl as sizes ( as if they expect the whole world to sport hour-glass figures) am furious with all those men who have made it mandatory for a woman to be of a certain acceptable size... i particularly loath people who make it a point to rub it in! I want to rally against all movies and tv serials who show perfect women, in their perfect make up with their perfect clothes in their perfect bodies. Life isn't this... i detest them for this mass brain wash... for controlling our lives and making us abide by a certain norm. Who set these standards anyways...

yes being healthy is important, who doesn't want to be, but your metabolism is not in your hands. some people are genetically blessed with slim structures some are not... what is the entire big deal about this? why doesn't anyone look inside.. why is it always about the exterior....

so i tell you my deprived, anorexic, starving, driven out of their minds, depressed, in denial... fellow obese women... size does matter... but the size of your hot dog! \m/ So enjoy and you are beautiful let no one tell you otherwise!

you can beat the heat but not the memories

while the sultry summers set in... while the sweat trickles down the neck... while the sunglasses of various shapes and sizes make their way... i just want my dark ac room, a chilled glass of juice and my paperback. the past few days I've developed an aversion to work and all that i want to do...is either travel to the hills despite the fact that am broke or you know just draw the curtains and read. it's my way of beating the heat? who knows... i just can't help remembering my childhood summer holidays, when i used to just wile away my afternoons and be so glad about life! suck on a spoonful of tamarind pickle and watch the various cartoons and afternoon shows on TV like street hawk, Disney world, some soap on battling computer viruses. i used to watch them avidly... my other time pass was playing pranks on my family, my grandparents would be the unsuspecting victims of my various atyachaar. we have a huge house with interesting nooks and corners to just lose oneself in... each parapet, each window sill, each veranda has so many memories. afternoons were also a time when i used to write my lengthy letters to friends who just stayed across the street. i miss the famous fives, the hardy boys, the nancy drews... and later all the classics, novels, bestsellers... i miss everything... i miss the ice cream wala calling out from the street... i miss rushing down the stairs to grab an ice-lolly. i miss those long winding phone conversations and day dreaming about some guy i developed a short interest over.

Now its just the keyboard, shit load of work, meetings, deadlines, ideas, brainstorming, copy, art, copy, more copy, proof... gawd.... i wish somebody could return those afternoons to me. those stories told by my granddad, those plays on radio... the taste of watermelon juice frozen in ice-cube trays... i guess the taste of the summers gone by will stay with me forever and lighten my load as i plough through another grown-up summer.