On strength and being strong

I have since a while now fancied myself getting a tattoo and I realize that more than the thought of the tattoo itself, the thrill is around what this tattoo should be – should it be a wise line in an ancient language in its own script or should it be a cryptic symbol that represents an aspect of my personality? As I keep dilly-dallying, I remember once having come across a symbol for ‘Strength’ in the Chinese script.

Strength.

Besides it seeming to be a rather simple image to have etched on my skin (read: lesser pain), I think I have been fascinated by the word itself.

Strength. Being strong.

If you’ve been following this blog on being ‘Not So Ample’ you will realize that I’ve brought up the innumerable references to my skinny frame by everyone I’ve known and met and how that has immediately demoted me to a frail, lesser being almost – only because I haven’t ever been ampler, larger, bigger.

Size.

Weird, misplaced fixations.

And all the while – all throughout childhood, early adulthood till this point - I’ve rather consciously tried to search for something else to centre my notion of strength around. I guess that’s where my fixation with the word and everything it means might actually stem from!

To my mind there had to be more to strength than just the physical aspect. Don’t get me wrong – biceps, abs, 4 and 6 packs, triceps, calves et al are impressive and sexy! I had my own stint at the gym a couple of years ago and loved the shape I got into. I agree that being in shape does wonders to your sense of self-esteem for sure because for a while thereafter I couldn’t care anymore about people making any remarks about my skinny frame well because skinny had some shape and could also flex a muscle or two!

Now of course lethargy and laziness have completely taken over and despite that niggling voice in my head to get back to training I seem to be an absolute disappointment. Nothing. Nothing seems to get me to get back to some discipline – not even the thought that I can have those flat abs once again! *sigh*

Being a woman – yeah, I’m bringing in a gender perspective – physical strength isn’t quite expected out of you. I mean that. Even during that short stint at training at the gym, I once had a middle aged woman (aka the local neighbourhood aunty) express disdain at me flexing that lone single muscle. 

“As a girl, you shouldn’t be muscular”, she said to my face. Like I said, I had already surrendered to the I-couldn’t-care-less mantra.

And yes there is a blind eye approach to the biology of a woman that actually proves the physical strength of women – think child birth if nothing else and you have to ask yourself why women are referred to the weaker sex. Answers anyone?

Still moving to another realm is that of emotional strength.

Softer aspect. I know. I hear the sniggers. Can it even be considered as strength?

I had come across this line a while ago and it appealed to me: "Strength is nothing more than how well you hide the pain"

Well, what else would you attribute society’s outlook that men aren’t supposed to cry to? Or lately a statement like ‘big girls don’t cry’? Or that ‘strong is the new beautiful’? 

For the longest time I have upheld these myself. Not only did I think and believe but also imbibed these through my own disposition and actions.

Being strong was a good thing.

And I had to prove that I was strong.

I pushed my own limits. I couldn’t think of looking back.

And I didn’t.

For quite a long time.

Somewhere I was also beginning to realize that being strong almost necessitated that one is emotionally void and therefore capable of demonstrating strength!

Really?

So is every notion of strength – physical, biological, emotional, spiritual (for those who believe in an external being) –  actually quite skewed, then?

Not quite. Not if you acknowledge and accept that the above is a uni-dimensional force-fitted view towards whatever it is that we think comprises of strength.

And this is what I set out to discover by myself.

What did I find?

I’ll share that in my next post… But I’m curious to know what your experiences have been around “being strong” – What according to you is strength? 

What roadblocks did you overcome (if any)? 

How has your own mind-set changed if at all?

Oh! And should I really get that tattoo now?

Karmic Retribution

The film, ‘Gangs of Wasseypur’ is my personal favourite because of its in-your-face, gritty, raw appeal that I found very endearing. I’ve watched this three hour movie twice only because I had to miss the final 45 minutes of the film the first time around. But no one who has loved the movie will ever forget the scene in Part I that led to the infamously famous dialogue, “तुमसे ना हो पाएगा…” - the panache with which those lines were delivered was simply terrific!

There was a certain definiteness to it which is in complete contrast to the inquisitorial  " क्या तुमसे हो पाएगा ? " that i'm afflicted by when my capabilities are under dubious scrutiny (courtesy my skinniness).

Allow me to elaborate with live examples:

Me: “Let me help you with those boxes.”

Them: " क्या तुमसे हो पाएगा ? "

Me: “Could I give you hand with your bags?”

Them: " क्या तुमसे हो पाएगा ? "

Me: *lugs her own bags on the shoulders*

Them: " क्या तुमसे हो पाएगा ? "

Me: “Okay, the starters aren’t enough. We should call the waiter for our order. I need more food.”

Them: " क्या तुमसे हो पाएगा ? "

Me: *when finally the main course is out of the way* “I want dessert.”

Them: " क्या तुमसे हो पाएगा ? "

Me: *when I decide to pick whiskey over beer*

Them: " क्या तुमसे हो पाएगा ? "

Me: *when I’m pumped and revved up about an outdoor activity. Think: running, cycling, trekking, rafting*

Them: " क्या तुमसे हो पाएगा ? "

It has begun to humour me that people go about casting those aspersions at me only because of my apparent not-so-ampleness for I’m the sort who goes by: ‘Seeing is believing’. And rather ironically on many an instance like those highlighted above for every single time they were flagged (whether under the guise of concern or for the purpose of ridicule), I’ve been able to k!ck a$$ real bad.

And for the purposes of my entertainment perhaps, I’ve been a witness to circumstances where someone either couldn’t manage their bags/luggage or had way too much leftover food or got too tipsy after their first pint of beer or gave up on their outdoor activity mid-way because they couldn’t keep at it… All while I’m silently smirking with a thought bubble over my head, “ तुमसे ना हो पाया।  रहेनेदे "

Chocoholics Anonymous

Just when I’d begun to think that I had a handle on this ‘Hey! You’ve lost weight!’ moment of conversation with people – both fiend and friend alike – I stop getting poked with jibes. And I say this rather wistfully.
Why? Well…
I haven’t been able to come up with a theme to write around my ‘not-so-ampleness’ since quite some time now; except of course for a snippet or two around phases where I’ve mentioned how I cannot stop gorging on food!

Hence, I conclude that I’m a lost-in-transition-skinny.

Except that there is one recurrent theme - now that I think about it *the grin of redemption*- : every time I decline chocolate!

Yeah, I hear the gasps; see the sympathetic looks and the likes.  The gods deemed it this way and I’ll come to the why in a lil bit (though most now have heard of it already)

What makes this tragedy the most farcical manoeuvre by the story writers of my life is that I (*sucks air in*) used to be (yeah, past tense) a chocoholic, a compulsive one at it. That just makes the present, imperfect (punning the grammar)!

Birthdays, festivities, celebrations, random celebrations or just plain ole’ randomness like someone returning from a holiday in the Swiss Alps (yeah, random no?) just mandates that there be chocolates on the table, in the fridge, as takeaways. Except in my tummy!

Why? Not because *ahemming and rolling eyes out* I’m on a diet!

Gah! Who goes on a diet and strikes chocolates off their list?

Who then strikes chocolates off their list, you ask? Well, someone with a medical condition so acute that self-restraint is much less painful than consumption itself. I’m going to spare you’ll the gory details of what happens if and when I do eat chocolate. Because you’re going to have to trust me when I say that I went through the excruciatingly painful procedure of monitoring my food in-take over a period of time (read: months) only to forcibly reckon myself with the ‘fact’ that all my woes and inconveniences were linked to - *heart skips a beat* - chocolates!

Yes, I gambled a little with my fate. So, though I knew I still didn’t exercise any self-restraint and the b!tc# came to bite me back (you know where).

So here I am with a condition that similar to my size has the capacity to evoke among people a similar reaction (read: eyebrows disappearing into their receding hairlines; shock, awe and pity) while I, the evolved dessertarian have moved on to explore flavours, finer tastes and eclectic delights outside of the cocoa world that leave me at an equally happy (if not happier) place.

Finally one shout-out  goes out to my bum-chums who have now taken it upon themselves to never order anything chocolate (even when it’s their own birthday or reason to call for a celebration) because of this lone ranger. There’s a heightened secret sense of camaraderie when there are 6 heads and 6 pairs of hands fighting it un-fair and square for the last crumb of dessert on the table…and happiness is a grin whipped across our faces!

Omnomnomnom

This representative of the skinny genus has been MIA busy updating experiences from a very refreshing and inspiring holiday! 

And while part of my head still continues to feel up in the clouds, my tummy in particular has been in a nomnomnom mode for a while. 

Just to make this even more visual – *open mouth, point finger in*

So what does that translate into? 

The need to snack in-between meals.
Spending more time on Zomato than Facebook
Purchasing a cookery book with the 9 others that are fiction

I have never, NEVER snacked (or been the kind who did) between meals. I ate my portions – three times a day. And I was sorted. Now suddenly I’m far from sorted. It may not seem as such a big deal but to me it is. 

How did it come down to satiate the need to munch at 10 when you’ve breakfasted at 7, pace around impatiently around 3 when you’ve lunched and leeched other people’s lunch too at 1, then repeat exercise from 5 to about 7, grab a bite around the corner with your street food vendor friend (if you stop by every other day he becomes your friend), get home to eat dinner only to scan the kitchen moments later for a pre-midnight snack, some how sleep only to wake up in the middle of the night because you can hear your tummy rumbling…wake up in the morning for a breakfast and repeat the cycle

Phew! When, why and how exactly did this happen? 

But more than my own disbelief, it’s the extreme reactions I still continue to attract that continue to keep me entertained:

 “I doubt you’re going to be able to eat all of that!” 

to

"You’re going to eat all that AND that?” 

to

“What’s wrong with you? Hungry and eating all the time? Go check you weight!” 

to

“Hey, here please help me finish my food”

Even better is when friends call you to catch up over a binge eating fest!

Weigh-ry funny...NOT!

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­“This joke is on you missy”, that seems to be the message the story writers of my life seem to be keen on directing towards me off late!

Know how I’ve been swooning over the moon about my recent achievement (read: gain in weight)? Know of how elated I’ve been because there’s been a significant needle movement on the scale (the last time I checked)?

Then you definitely know how much this meant to me – you’ve read the testimonies of grief I’ve been subjected to because of my not-so-ampleness!

And right there in the middle of this joy being celebrated over more cheesecakes is what I’d like to classify as a paranormal activity.

Sale season is here. Or at least was around until at least a week ago. And I’d been somehow lured into walking into a store to check some stuff out. Checking ‘em out led me to actually finding a pair of pants that caught my eyes and hence I decided to give it a try. In my new Zen state of awareness I pick up a size that’s larger than what I’d otherwise fit into.

Lo and behold! Pant won’t fit. I walk out with a grin decide not to bother any further. It’s established. I need to start looking away from familiar racks to those that stack a bigger size.

Now here’s where the cosmic joke kicks in -- two days ago, I was raiding my own wardrobe and found myself a pair of pants. Slipped in and realized I’d need a belt. Not to accessorize, but to hold ‘em in place. A quick check-in on the size and guess what? This pair of pant is a size smaller than the one I didn’t quite manage my way through only a couple of days ago.

W.T.F.!

 So this continues… some of things I own restrict my movement because I’m suddenly rendered too big to be in them anymore and some others, well, still need the alterings, the belts, the whatnots…

I’m convinced – the joke is on me!

And as if this wasn’t strange enough, over a seemingly generic conversation the topic veered towards weight issues. To which my parents unanimously chimed in, “Don’t worry about your weight. Be grateful that unlike others you don’t have to tone/slim down!”

What? 

No more bashing me on how little I eat. Good riddance. Being a personified rodent in the house nibbling into almost everything is proving to be a boon.

So what if I’m not the last one laughing? I’m the happy one eating to my heart’s content!!! 

Not So Skinny...Say Whaaaa?

“You’re looking much better”

When conversations start like that^^ -- I find myself at a loss of words. Though, of course, my face tells a different story -- my cheeks (yes, godammit I finally have cheeks) start swelling, my pupils dilate and my grin, just terrific!

So recently when a very good friend of my mine said to my face, “You’ve put on weight!”, I grinned and repeated that statement I’d been bestowed upon by someone else – “You’re looking much better” – and she (my friend, i.e.) was mortified.

It’s not funny how our society has branded ‘weight’ as a taboo – not to be spoken about, never to be referred to in a positive manner.

I, on the other hand (as is obvious already), could not care less or take offence to a statement like the one above.

My pet peeve (and courtesy my blog I have started to learn isn’t just mine alone) is that people make such a fuss about thin, skinny YET otherwise normal and healthy people (like yours truly)!

But I think those days are far behind. And it’s for real. I haven’t stood on the scales (it jinxes it for me) but everyone I’ve been meeting has made a remark about how I’m no longer reed stick thin!

I’ll attribute it to a relatively easy paced way of life I’m currently living (in contrast to the mad one for the past few years where I’d been juggling a dozen of things, multitasking and basically sacrificing food and sleep). Now however The Good Life comprises of being in the nomnomnomnom mode, be it cheesecakes, ghee dripping dal khichadi or good old beer!

I was even asked you say so much on your blog about how thin you are, but you’re no longer that skinny. That!

And that’s the one piece I’m worried about though – this blog of mine is linked with my identity, my identity at being skinny.

No skinny me would leave me to blog about what?

P.S.: The opposite of skinny isn't fat. #JustSayin

WANT: S.P.A.C.E.

It’s ironic how we live in a country where politeness, general niceties and simple manners are not only just taken for granted but more often than not even chucked straight out of the window! It seldom baffles us when someone tries to push their way through (literally and figuratively) and even makes it through. Our reaction, "Hmph! Yet another 'Tu mere baap ko nahi jaanta hai' lout."

Well to each their own.

Live and let live.

Let live!
Even if that person next to you is reed stick thin!

So when you see (it’s not that difficult) and hear this aforementioned caricaturish creature next to you or around you in semi claustrophobic spaces (read: railway stations, for instance), please hear them out and budge a bit.

They definitely don't have a beer belly nor hips the size of a Martian spaceship...perhaps their demeanour ain't half or even quarter as terrifying or intimidating -- but that doesn't imply or give you the gawd damned right to stay un-budged!

I've been there.

Urging for a lil more than a strip of space especially because there is that extra space.

This gross misunderstanding that skinny folks can wriggle their way out is a misnomer. We could be lugging a backpack three times our size and that's nobody's business. 

There's space. You simply make way.

If there's place to sit, you shift completely - not only how much you estimate the skinny folk to occupy. 

Some of us might be accommodating personalities.

But our physicality needs breathing and moving space. Refrain from cramming us like poultry on their way to the slaughterhouse.

Because when push comes to shove we can do that mighty well - given that our elbows have no fat caps to soften those blows.

After all ain't it the size of the fight in the dog that counts? Phir matth kehna 'Dhakka kyun maara" *grin*

Hashtag: Adam Teasing

Commuting from work on my way back home, I was walking up the foot over bridge trying to find the narrowest way out from the sluggish mob to my way to the top. I still cannot seem to fathom why humans move as directionless-ly (if not more) than cattle itself? It'll continue to be my grouse until the day I'm buried six feet beneath the earth. More on that some other time though...

So yeah, here I was trying to find my way when lo and behold I was most surprised ( and a bit overawed) to find myself right behind a guy with a waist so thin I had to look up to the back of his head to make sure he was really a HE! You know what I mean.

And then I posted this statement as an update: So if I see a guy with the narrowest waist ever and make a comment about it -- is it #AdamTeasing?

Funny as it may sound, for a moment I found myself wondering whether I was really guilty of something?

Or is it that gender stereotypes are so firmly engraved within our 'thoughtDNA' that it's okay to look the other way, if it's the reverse.
Take for instance a situation where a woman is crying. No one stops to make a big deal about it. It's okay for women to cry. A man cries and it's a big deal in the most unpleasant way for that guy. Gender stereotypes. Period.

In that same vein, I am yet to read anything about anorexic men. Or skinny men. It's almost as if they don't exist. But they do. This one (with a waist-line thinner than 'yours truly' was for real!).

Any one any thoughts?

O the things people say…

First they irk you. Then they numb you. Then you dumb them.

May be. May be.

I've written about many brief incidents in what I thought was aptly titled: A day in the life of you know who... and even later in a post on Khali and Me

 

While I've found the humour in the irony, there are some one-liners that I've heard so often that I do think they deserve a *cough cough* honourable mention, to say the least! And just in good jest, I've categorized them too. With my thought bubble in italics, So here goes...

Most lame remark: 

Arre you toh must not be eating only. 

Yeah, I live on love and fresh air

Most repeated remark: 

You’re on a diet o’what? 

Yup, I’m that “fat” (no offence) that I need to be on a diet

Most ironic remark: 

From now only you want to maintain your figure haan? 

Stick is a figure you mean?

Most frequently-heard-during-childhood remark: 

What men? You ate anything or just filled your stomach with water? 

I have some more left in the glass. Could I dunk you in it?

Most daft remark: 

You finished eating? You hardly eat. 

I was hungry. I wolfed my meal down. No time to talk about the weather. Hence finished eating. Problem?

Most freely available remark: 

You should eat more. This (referring to my size) is not good. 

I eat. I’m fine thank you. I don’t see the doc as frequently as you, so…

Most bizarre remark: 

You’re lucky – you can find clothes for yourself in the kids section too. 

Pity you – nothing even in the maternity section

Most self-defeating remark: 

You should put on some weight. *turns around speaks to someone else advising them to lose weight* 

*I rest my case* #win

Most paternalistic remark: 

Madam yeh size aapko aayega 

Dude! STOP. I’m skinny..YES. Shrivelled..NO! #ReasonsWhyIHateShopping

Most overrated remark: 

You’ve lost weight! 

Man! Seriously!!  That’s what this blog is all about!

Come to think of it - what would I be posting about if not for these guys! *grin*

That glorious moment...

I've had one too many. So many that quite a lot of them have made it to this blog!

It's time to add another...
Among the very many female eccentricities I remotely bear any affinities to, comes shopping. Yeah. I absolutely loathe it and would be happier without it but end up crappier with it!

What makes it an even bigger challenge is that I choose to embark on it as an annual activity such as 24 hours prior to Christmas. For the rest of the year I couldn't care less. Or at least that's what I hear myself say!

Christmas or no Christmas, however, besides just finding the right outfit, finding the exact desirable size of the said object is the biggest challenge of all. And I don't like altering my clothes – hence the complexities.

Another thing about shopping and clothes particularly is the size..of which XS is a misnomer! 

There are a few of these brands adorning mannequins (of which no more shall be said) that give everyone the impression that size zero or whatever it's called these days is the place to be. Allow me to enlighten you: XS reads eXcesS. Gettit?

So...you can imagine the delight when what was a mere hunch for the past few weeks got confirmed over this weekend.. that being ‘yours truly’, the sole rep of the skinny genus in all her not-so-ampleness has gained a few grams!!!

Pants need no belts to hang in there, t-shirts that fit right as does everything else. 

The cherry on the icing? For some brands that had been kind enough to allow their XS to read as eXtra Small, I find I have to force fit myself in to them now. Those random stray kurtas I had to get altered, I now fight arm and elbow to wriggle in and out of!

I now know what an achievement means, I guess!

Damsel in distress...NOT!

We grow up being taught that there's strength in numbers. Size is one such number.

And in a very perverse sense, being identified and singled out as skinny puts me in a somewhat disadvantaged position more often than not. Why? Because being skinny has been reduced to being synonymous with being weak.

Now I'm not volunteering to prove my strength by challenging anyone to arm-wrestling or lifting weights. And I’m not saying I haven't done either before.

All I'm trying to say is that there's a distorted world view about what's really strength. Even physical strength. Emotional and/or spiritual and GawdKnowsWhatElse is a different battleground all together!

I believe that physical strength alludes to Immunity.

One of my most favourite anecdotes is when I'd been to a doc a couple of years back and his reaction was: “Long time no see”. 'Nuff said, I believe!

Seemingly healthy bodies are seen sniffling, coughing, etc when not popping pills, going through the rounds of tests and hospital visits. It's scary. Their size would seem to suggest that they're doing everything right. Apparently not.

And then there's Fitness. Let alone trekking, even a little brisk walking and/or taking the stairs has had so many break into a sweat gasping for breath. And these are the very same souls who do this very classy thing of burning their calories 'running the treadmill'.

My point? Just because someone is skinny does not mean that they can't lift a few things from place A and put them in place B. When people tell me, 'Don't take all of it. Just carry this one bag/box’, my thought bubble goes: “Seriously, save your condescending attitude for another dude or damsel in distress”. What makes it even more disgusting is when some people throw in the gender card: “But you're a girl/woman”. “Has no one else come with you?”” You'll be able to manage?”
Pardon me for being appalled but they're five friggin' cartons. Why'd you need an army to transport just that much?

P.S.: To appease those patronizing souls, I volunteer to give up carrying cartons and the likes if it means that I don't have to work. I didn't say I wasn't a sloth. Ability is very different from Desire.

We all know who the joke is on. And who is having the last laugh.  

Saath khayaali khoon maaf...

It’s got to be one of those phases where the writers of the story of my life as more than pleased with themselves as they are with me. The things I hear being said about me are very unreal, unimaginable to say the least. It’s in direct conflict with the very nature of my blog.

What’s been happening? Well, as always I have been meeting/bumping into people – some known at a rather personal level over shorter spans of time, others mere acquaintances even over longer spans of time. But yeah, people – people who are somewhat an ilk different from the once-upon-a-time type used to get under my skin…or well, wait, my skinny-ness!

I’d never have thought that meeting someone after almost five years would transpire into a conversation like this:

Person X: Oh my god! It’s so nice to see you. You’re looking so much better. You’ve put on some weight. I’m so happy to see you like this. Good good. You should continue to take care of yourself.

(Reaction too strong to put down into words. Smiled and grinned. Couldn’t stop until cheekbones started to hurt a bit)

And then a few days after that I met a friend after what seemed like an eternity (5 months does seem like an eternity when it’s your bum-chum)

Disclaimer: To be a bum-chum, you need to be in-your-face-honest at all times.

Bum-chum: Eli, have you put on weight?

(Reaction: Wait? You seriously asking or are you going to say I’ve lost something I claim to never have had? No, you really mean I’ve put on weight! HHAHAHAHAHAHAH – HAPPINESS!!!)

Another time a question posed by someone in a very random context (though at that point I must add that I was wolfing down some super delicious cupcakes *drool*)

Randomly concerned person M asking question: Why would you want to put on weight, ya? You’re perfect the way you are…

(Reaction: Me? Skinny me? Perfect? According to you. Super. Need to unearth more souls like you!)

Yet another time a colleague gets chatty over arm wrestling with me. Huh. Yeah my life is strange – but in a good way. Yeah, arm wrestling. This is what the conversation veers towards:

Colleague E: Thin people are stronger, dude. I have a friend I couldn’t  win arm wrestling against. Hmm, wait… *takes a step forward to look at me – resumes conversation* …she was thinner than you. You have legs. She had sticks in place of legs. Yet she beat me.

(Reaction: Recall that Hindi muhawara we had to frame sentences with in school ‘phoole nahi samaana’? I found my sentence!)

These are just a few. I mean, it’s just great to receive this kind of acknowledgment. I can eat all I want and claim to do so because I need to fit into my clothes without having to see a tailor who has to alter it. HAHAHH – fit into my clothes. Now how many people really can claim that.

But life’s no less interesting without the usual suspects trying to poke jibes and dig my bones. Tch tch to them. So this one time I had to get through a security check and then the females are taken aside so that the detector can complete its task and this lady security guard looks at me and shoots an-in-your-face-question: “Aap bahut patle ho? Thoda weight put on karna chahiye?”

HHAHA – Like I haven’t heard that before. But consequently I had this thought that I'd posted on Facebook: Is it being mean when you respond to a "You're too thin" with "Yeah. You're too fat too"? -- Isn't it supposed to be fact sharing? #koshchan

 I haven’t acted on that thought of mine. I’m too happy to care to be bothered and hence, it’s ‘saath khayaali khoon maaf’ from me! *grin*