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!

The Skinny Curvy Conundrum

When Not-At-All-Ample is friends with Not-At-All-Skinny, the world seems like a funny place; albeit only through the rear view mirror. How so? Let me take you through it.

To the one who is Not-At-All-Ample they say:

“Have some more. Don’t be shy. You’re thin. You can afford to eat as much as you please.”

And to the one who is Not-At-All-Skinny they say:

 “See. Look at her! She’d asked for just one roti but I gave her two. And she ate just one. But you? You’d have eaten both....”

Do you see something wrong with those statements?

If you see nothing wrong with either of those statements or you see something wrong with just one of the above statements, then you my friend are someone this post in particular (and this blog in general) are dedicated to.

If you see something wrong with both those statements, then you’re the kind we need more of.

Somehow it became acceptable to call someone fat or thin.

Until, very recently, when the ‘real-girls/women-have-curves’ movement took over and it became fashionable to single out the not so curvy ones! It was (and still is) considered downright rude and insensitive to make fat-girl jokes. 

What happened to the curvy boys and men no one knows. No wait, it’s a beer belly hence it’s fashionable to have one, I guess.

So then it was deemed (presumably) that you, Skinny girl, shall be the focal point of all things size. And focal point literally translates into:

Sympathy (Oh! You poor thing. Mustn’t you put on some weight?),

Condescension (You’re such a weakling),

Envy (I wish I could be as thin as you),

Mockery (Do you pick your stuff from the kids’ section?)

“Hey skinny” you say and quickly cover up saying you meant that in good jest. Yeah. The world is a funny place. Funny, only if you’ve resolved to not let all things this provoke you.

What baffles me is how it doesn’t matter what role genetics or sometimes just good old metabolism had to play. 

And as ironic as it may seem, in the grand scheme of things it matters little who says it. Between you and me, we’ve heard and seen equal number of people along the ‘Ample to Not So Ample’ continuum who’d come to mind right now for having made such remarks.  

Is there a threshold, then, or a safe spot where how much (or little) you weigh is accepted?

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.

Munch Ado About Something

Circa 25th Jan 2014, Saturday 'yours truly' was aboard a 20:05  Thane local from CST when at Byculla (and I refrain from the pretense of being politically correct here.. I mean, I'm a self certified self proclaimed skinny and there aren't two ways about it) haan so back to the story -- at Byculla a rather obese woman hopped in and plonked right beside me.

Needless to say she had two dozen pair of eyes on her.

And she was...well, munching on some biscuits. I looked back at the 'audience'.
Something felt vaguely familiar.

For all those times I'm the one rounding up an 'audience', I realized I'd done so because at such points in time I'd turned down the offer to well, munch!

And the 'audience' has that same distinct unwelcoming look about their eyes.

They judge her for eating since she's obese
They judge me for not eating since I'm skinny

Why though..?
You're obese so you're not supposed to get hungry?
You're skinny so you're supposed to induce hunger at all times?

The satirical twist to this is that even someone like me,  who takes a dig at her own skinny-ness and at people misconstrued-ness (all in good jest), does a happy dance of her own if someone says either of the following:
"You've gained weight"
"You eat so much"
"You're lucky you can wolf down your favorites without being bothered"
And that^^ to me reeks of something sinister -- to be uncategorized as skinny/lean/thin.. to disown an identity.. my own identity

And I see glimpses of this all around me.. same ole eternal grass is greener on the other side -- obese want to get skinny, skinny want to be anything but skin and bones; the White bask in the sun to get tanned, the un-Whites are going in for whitening creams...

May be I should go grab that midnight snack than be up mulling over these first world problems of mine!

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!

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*

Shoe-ed off

Phew! Inertia.

Must write next about how skinny folks like yours truly do also succumb to the vice of sloth. I mean come to think about it popular media would always draw your attention to "a big fat slob" right? (emphasis being on fat)
And yet for the longest time ever, my mother's only constant grouse against me has been my laziness.
Yes, I should cover that in my next post. (Soon! ULP!!)

Back to my world, things have been "peachy".
And as is the case with all my encounters -- skinniness comes to the fore mostly whilst shopping. Arrgh! The bane of my existence. shopping, that is. Worse still, I wasn't shopping for clothes, but shoes. YHEA. SHOES!!

So in this classic display of the highest forms of creative license being claimed to be held by the writers of the story of my life, I encounter being remarked at for my not-so-ample-frame while I go shoe shopping.

E.X.C.U.S.E. M.E.!

Story goes like this -- I'm in dire need of sports shoes. Desperately barging in and out of stores, showrooms (you name it..) to no avail. However at some forsaken moment I decide to lower the bar of my expectations and slip my not so dainty feet (as opposed to the case with clothing, shoe shopping hasn't been easy because apparently my feet are too big for a lady! Hmph!) and try out a few pairs.
There I am, strutting about the carpeted floor getting a sense of how unlike this surface really is as compared to the craters I am going to have to either dodge or walk through out there in the real world, when the sales guy suddenly happens to say: "I would not recommend this pair for you. Since you don't weigh much, you could try something from the other range of shoes we have..."
Uhm, quite honestly he lost me when he uttered the forbidden word "weight".

Next thing he knew I was on my way out.

#facepalm
Could MY life get any funnier?

When 'Skinniness' and Mumbai locals meet...

Mumbai locals. Love 'em? Hate 'em? Cannot ignore 'em! And since I have to commute the length and breadth of the city, my 'skinniness' doesn't go ignored either!!

Random Day One:
Peak hour rush. It's the first thing in the morning but the sweat and grime of the humid city already makes the day unbearable. Add to that, the burgeoning crowded train.
So there I am standing, no wait, struggling to fit my tiny itsy-bitsy frame on one centimetre of floor space but it seems largely unaffordable. Irony.
What I have next to me is a rather large, healthy woman decked up in all her finery with her rounded elbows in my sides. I'm ignoring it. But just as I am soothing my nerves allowing the music to take over me, I 'think' I hear muffled voices.
My very 'ample' co-commuter seems to be speaking to me. I unplug and here's what ensued:
Ample Lady: "You are pushing me. Your entire 'weight' is on me. Why can't you stand properly? BLAH BLAH BLAH..."
A-very-Zen-Not-so-ample me: "Thank you"
Ample Lady: *Aghast* What do you mean 'Thank you'?
A-very-Zen-Not-so-ample me: Well, simply thank you. *Smiles*
Ample Lady: "Huh?"
A-very-Zen-Not-so-ample me: "How else do you expect me to react to you yelling at me the first thing in the morning. So all I have to say to you is 'Thank you'.
Ample Lady: *Stares ferociously*
A-very-Zen-Not-so-ample me: "Quit staring. Your station's here. Alight and get off" *Smiles*
PEACE ENSUED!

Random Day Two:
Same old Mumbai Local. Same old crowd. Same sweat and grime. Same old Not-so-ample me. Same old quarrel for one centimetre foot space. SIGH. But this time it's another co-commuter!
Co-commuter: "Don't push."
A-very-zapped-Not-so-ample me: "Just look at my size. You really think that even if I tried to push you I'd succeed?"
END OF DISCUSSION!


Random Day Three:
Same old...
Co-commuter picks on me because of my bag. It's a backpack. And I can be a snail with my house on my back on some days.
Irked co-commuter: "Look at the rush and look at this one (hinting at me) pushing around with her big bag. There's no space for the rest of us and here she comes in with her big bag!"
A-very-entertained-Not-so-ample me: "The size of the bag is to compensate for the areas that I lack when it comes to size."
SUCCESSFUL CLOSE OF DISCUSSION

The Good. Not The Bad Or The Ugly

Being skinny aint been all that bad. In fact there are countless experiences where I didn't have to retort or hang my head in shame because of my not-so-ampleness

Just for the records, I am in my early 20s. 

Yeah, so getting on with those thank-god-I’m-stickly-thin moments.

So here I am walking into a lift or walking down the road or just bumping into acquaintances, people my folks know, people I haven’t seen in a really long time (or maybe it should read as people who haven’t seen me in a really long time!)

Well...we meet. We greet. Surprisingly enough these people are warm. Hardly ever has anyone of these sub species made a caustic remark about physical frame (one more reason to like -- no wait, love these people)

So they ask me how I am (see, I said they were nice)...about my folks... 

And then quite innocently I get asked which "standard" I am studying in ("standard" got replaced by "which year" about 24 months ago). 

It's during those moments that I cannot help blushing. But I have to suppress that stupid grin (These are nice people, remember?) And I have to then sound all modest and propah minus any tone that would strangely enough make it seem like I have been slighted. 'Cuz I haven’t. 

That's where I begin to tell them what exactly I am doing. More specifically how "standard" isn't quite where I’d fit.

And as far as "which year" goes, no sooner do they mathematically calculate my age, I realize that i can now no longer stop beaming...

Eat. Pray. Love. (with a difference)

I welcome myself back to my own blog for returning after a long hiatus... what remains to be seen is how long before i have to disappear again

Speaking of which, every time people see me - even if it is after a week - they, no wait, "i" seem to give them the impression that i am disappearing into thin air. Needless to say from all i have already ranted about before, i cannot help but roll my eyes out...

Last month was bad. I fell ill. Having undergone the trauma of swallowing fist fulls of antibiotics, i thought the worst was over and behind me.

I was wrong.

My weight took the beating... And while i dont know how much i lost (i have not dared to stand on the scales since...) when my collar bone protrudes i have the truth glaring at me in my face. Literally.
What i do not need is for any kind of confirmation. But people will be people. *sigh*

However somewhere in the middle of all the pesky concerns, 'yours truly' decided it was time to at least try to regain what had once been mine.
And so began the mission with a vengeance... I was hoping for the regain to happen just as quickly as the loss did. My bad!

So here i am trying real hard to get some flesh on to wrap around my bony structure with not much success and i think to myself, 'There are many others on the other end of the spectrum (though many stand right before me) who'd kill to be standing in my shoes...though i still CANNOT fathom why :-S'

My funda for the moment:
Eat -- Autum's setting in and it's doing real wonders to my appetite :D
Pray -- That autumn happens all year through :P
Love -- That people actually envy my being skinny ;)