A foodie she is. A foodie she is not.

I don’t consider myself a foodie.

It’s a statement that I iterate in the same breath as when I say, “I am not intelligent”.

Somehow ‘not being intelligent’ does not get interpreted as ‘I am stupid’ (thankfully).

Because what it does convey is that while my intelligence quotient (IQ) isn’t quote-worthy, I am nevertheless an able-functioning-being who can hold a conversation, participate in discussions and also watch out for herself (and others) thereby still contributing to society in whatever manner deemed required.

And now back to me not being a foodie - it further also has this subtext: I for all seemingly fathomable reasons (i.e., not being so ample) do not even look like a foodie!

Therefore, this has been (and still continues to get) interpreted as ‘I don’t enjoy food’.

The above logic of ‘intelligent versus stupid’ out rightly defied (even though applied to the same specimen i.e., me) because well, I’m skinny!

That I can be (and am) excitable about certain foods during all stages –

(i)                  the build-up (i.e. planning/waiting for the food),

(ii)                the devour (self-explanatory) and,

(iii)               the story-tell (i.e. reliving the foodgasmic experience)

– seems to astound many.

“Look at you”, they say, “…I’ve never heard you sound this descriptive and ecstatic about food. Not even when you’re describing your travels”

“See her grinning so wide; so happy…”

Hmm... whaaaa?

Yeah I am capable of being excitable about all things food.

Even though I may still never know all the cuisines or the best places to eat them at or manage the wide range of cutlery for that matter (when I’m ravenous, I pig with my hands). Because in spite of what my physicality seems to suggest, if it’s food that’s well-prepared (and I’m biased towards larger portions) it doesn’t matter; even if it’s street food (another one of my biases incidentally).

Nor does it matter whether its food that is super-healthy. Does it have protein, carb, fat etcetera in proportion to my requirement? Let’s just say I don’t judge every morsel I eat (which shouldn’t be confused with ‘living to eat’ either).

And that I’ve been ‘complimented’ on some recent weight gain might just happen to be a consequence of a slower metabolism rate and a very very sedentary lifestyle!

I, Skinny, have spoken

I’d started writing this blog as a sign of finally having found the nerve to respond to that one characteristic that had seemed to cloud everything I was – weight! (Or to be more precise, the lack thereof). This meant that until April 2009 I had no outlet to either talk about the things I’d gotten used to people saying (albeit forcibly) or air my views (albeit humorously).

This also translated into something else. For close to 20-odd years, I was made to believe that something was wrong with my physicality. That it was not good enough. And that I was less because of it. It had wreaked havoc with my self-esteem. And I at this point will let you in on one more piece of information: I was oblivious to the damages caused.

Only because no one said it’s nobody’s fault if they’re thin.

Only because no one said it’s alright if you’re thin (well, because you need that permission. Or so it seemed).

It’s taken me a while to understand the quirk of fate behind this line - “Sticks and stones will break my bones; but words will never harm me” – because while the “words” tore me down one jibe at a time, it’s the “bones” that’ve proved how un-frail I really was. The tongue doesn’t have a bone, you see! And I also had to find my tongue her voice – a constructive (not destructive one).

No, this isn’t the point where it’s time for -- Cue. Insert “…and they all lived happily ever after”.

Tragically for the rest of the world (and hardly at all for me), I still continue to be thin. So I have yet to hear the last word on the “you’re so thin”, “you must eat some more” and “why don’t you try gaining some weight” conversation starters of the world that make the “let’s talk about the weather” seem like a preferred option.

…just as I am hoping to someday know what it feels to be envied for a ‘Size Zero’ figure! And at the risk of sounding out rightly shallow, I’ll add that hell yeah, I deserve every right to live through that emotion. I’m after all naturally endowed when it comes to this.

But no, thanks.

A couple of weeks ago I derived inspiration for this post when I read this:

“…I worry for the girls out there who are like I was -- who are suffering from the same self-esteem issues that most teenagers do, and are being told they are ugly not only by their teasing peers, but by adults around them who are crusading for change…”

This is an excerpt from a Huffington Post article titled, “Stop Making the Thin Girl Ugly”

However though it provoked me to think about the baggage I’d been lugging around courtesy my own body structure, it also triggered a string of other thoughts.

“Being thin” is okay (read: un-ugly) when a person has “lost” weight because it is viewed as an achievement/triumph. All hail diet regimes. Ugh! The farce

“Being thin” is okay (read: can be lambasted in the mainstream media) when it’s the fashion industry because they are the perpetrators of a faulty sense of body-image.

Interestingly enough, “being un-thin” (AKA fat/overweight) is also friggin’ okay because the above two arguments have guaranteed there are enough supporters championing for the cause of the un-thin; whether in hushed tones, despair stricken eyes or as diet-regime over-throwers.

It’s the thin girl like me who still stands in the corner somewhere likened to, as pathetic it may sound, a stick meant for dogs.

It’s the thin girl like me who because she is ‘Not So Ample’ has to deal with every body part being sized-up and scruntized as if she was on display in the ‘Hall of Approval’.

Without the blink of an eye.  

But it’s the thin girl like me who owes no allegiance whatsoever to the diet-regimes or the fashion industry who deserves to be respected. At the very least. And may be sometimes be told that she’s alright just the way she is.

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 "

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!

Cupboard Cleansing

People have poked jibes. I, in turn, have developed a self deprecatory sense of humour and all seems hunky dory.
Well, guess what? It's not.
And in any case this blog is all about nothing being hunky dory 'cuz being 'skinny' does not permit it. I am yet to fully comprehend the hullabaloo surrounding 'size zero'. I share a meal with people and all i hear of food being unhealthy.  About how it's high time they followed a diet regime or joined the gym or exercised or did yoga or may be even starved!
I don't get it.

People's woes revolve around how they desperately want to fit into their clothes...and not out of them. What they wouldn't do to flaunt their well toned and trimmed assets...
I get this...and i empathize

I empathize only because i exist on the other end of this drama... Yep, drama it is. And i'll tell U why. A couple of days ago i got down to clearing my cupboard up. Now my cupboard isn't the quintessential girl's cupboard bursting at its seams...i believe in living in moderation (more on that -- but another post!). But nevertheless i find myself in possession of clothes i've never worn.
Uh..uh!
Before U watertight compartmentalize me into being the quintessential girl, i'll let U in on a secret.
I am in possession of clothes i secretly hope and pray that i can 'fill' into perfectly and not have belts suspended to hold 'em in place or reduce my shoulders to hangars on a hook or wait to have 'em altered to 'fit' me right so i aint floating.

So while i had to dispose the clothes i couldn't forsee myself 'filling' into i despise my fate 'cuz this means i WILL have to go shopping and find something(s) more suitable for my frame (more on this one too in another post).

Gah!

Where's the ponch(o) line!?!

'Nuff said about how my "weight" (or more aptly put, the absence of it) has damaged my self esteem and dug crater sized pot holes on my path to self actualization. Will keep some of the other sordid details for another post.

So this time around, i am walking down the street with my mother. We walk past a girl. She (the girl) is wearing a 'kaftan poncho'. Telepathically,  my mother and i are thinking about the same thing - the piece of clothing.

My mother breaks the silence and asks me, "Would U wear something like THAT?"

My reply: "Well, it looked good on her. If i'd ever to wear anything like that...i'd have people raising their hands to salute me."

My mother looked baffled!

I said to her, "It would look like a flag hoisted on a pole."

She smirked.


My point: Being skinny or the oft quoted 'size zero' isnt quite the place to be...

P.S.: My fashion quotient is currently  represented in negative. I didn't know what the aforementioned piece of clothing was called. But i do happen to have a lot of time and Google doesn't mind... ;)