It’s something that I would like to take up more seriously, because honestly, I’m sick and tired of feeling like a big blub of flab. I tried yoga, in the hope that all that bending will whip me in shape. However that turned out to be an epic fail because I don’t think I’m good with bendy. Bendy is not me. Somehow, being from India, I should be all about the bendy, well, I’m not.
So, God, once again, I need to stop eating, else I’m pretty sure I will resemble a blimp and won’t be able to sleep on my bed because most of me will be falling off the sides. I beseech you, make the eating stop!
Now, it isn’t like I’m anorexic nor am I going to turn bulimic just because I need to lose weight. If I don’t do something now, I’ll be arthritic, my teeth will fall out because I’m eating too much of the sweet stuff, and I won’t fit into my clothes. As it is, I face the occasional embarrassment of not fitting into any one of my saree blouses because these love handles have just popped!
Truth is, I never was the skinny kid. I wish I was. I truly wish. Then I would have had cause to complain about how I’ve let myself go, blah, blah. No history there.
This, this fat phase of mine, is pure lethargy. It is the inability to say no and the absolute need to keep eating. It is also the inability to think, for one second, that I won’t accumulate all the nonsense I’ve been eating despite the fact that my stomach protests at the slightest provocation…
In other inappropriate news, I think washing machines are bad for people like me. Because, I own half the world’s underclothes and they just pile up because I know I have enough to get by and that I can shuck the lot in the machine and get it all washed in one stretch. I should be a little more conscientious about this, like I was when in the hostel in Delhi, but then again, conscientious and me are not very good friends, as illustrated above.
My best friend’s getting married on Sunday, and her being Sindhi (they who were once in Sindh, Pakistan, but ran away during the partition), means her wedding is a three-day do, which starts today. And since Pooja and I are such good friends, we’re dancing at her engagement party. We’ve been practicing since Tuesday and instead of being good children and practicing ever harder yesterday, we decided to try out three parts dance with one part vodka just for fun and ended up being all kinds of buzzed until 5am this morning!
Thing is, Seema and I have been best friends since we were 11 (and she was 12. I was the youngest in class, etc). We also went to college together. Most of our friends are people we’re studied with since kindergarten. These are boys and girls who’ve grown up with us. Thing is we were all pretty close as a class and over the years, we’ve taken the time and trouble to keep in touch.
Sometimes I puzzle over high school-related drama that I watch on TV or read and I think, “I would never have these issues with the monkeys I studied with”, I guess it also helped that my mother was the English teacher. But that should have made my life miserable. It didn’t, unless you count “Shruthi, what questions are coming in the Lit section of the paper?” being asked incessantly during exam time. For the life of me, I could never understand why people thought English was a tedious subject to study. More importantly, why they never studied English. I mean, you speak it, how hard can it be to understand?
But, I digress.
This weekend is all about my best friend, and her wedding and the fact that she will be moving to the UK after. I won’t have someone asking if I’m okay, because after December 19, that process will become an international text message. No more cupcake birthdays and shopping sprees and angst on email. She’ll be married and in another country and time zone. But I don’t care about that. She’s my best friend, we’ve been through nonsense together for the last 15 years, I think we can pull this long-distance thing off.
And on that happy note, I shalls post a more nostalgia post after the wedding is over…