Oops…
forgot to add the link to ABC Wednesday . Apologies.
L is for Lilies
Has it ever happened to you..
.. that something you’ve read or studied gets clean wiped off your head when you try to recall it?
Yesterday we were watching the Delhi Marathon and Hrit asked me what a marathon was. All I could remember was that a Greek, with a name difficult to spell, with a P and D in it, ran somewhere and ran back and died. Good bless Google for coming to my rescue.
That’s a story I liked. How could I forget it? If I forgot something obnoxious like calculus or chemistry I’d not complain. If those were wiped clean off from my mind I’d only be grateful for the extra space. I do have to cram a lot in that brain of mine. What’s worrying me is not finding the other interesting stuff, things I read and enjoyed and had been really really good at during school.. tectonic theory, the Moghul Empire, the working of a pinhole camera.. I loved all that and remember knowing it so well. But now… nothing.
On the other hand there are things I remember so clearly.. speeches from The Merchant of Venice, poems by Wordsworth, Kabir and Rahim, pictures from my textbooks way back from when I was in Prep.
Weird it is.
It doesn’t help that I had a grandma with Alzheimer’s.
Today was the last straw — I couldn’t remember the name of Harry Potter’s school — Hogwarts.. for godsake! I need to install google in my head. Maybe they’ll come up with something. I hope it’s soon.
PS: He was Pheidippides. While on Marathons.. the gym is having a mini Marathon.. all of two kms, this Sunday. I’m still trying to decide whether I should go. What if I’m the last person walking at the finish line?
The way I am
If you’re a regular here you’ll know my constant fight with the Voldemart in my life, the one I’ve battled for as long as I remember, the one that has spawned many a post some funny, some sad, some jubilant and some motivational. It’s all been about that three lettered word ..
FAT.
I was a chubby baby and made for a pretty picture with my mum in her bouffant and a very dapper dad. However that cute little toddler turned into a fat preteen. And from then on life was just not the same.
When other kids counted dolls I counted my rope skips.
Each morning I’d pick up my skipping rope and a mat and go to the terrace for my exercise. I hated it. It was a chore, a chore I detested. I’d pick at my food and then binge.
When other girls counted boy-friends I counted calories.
I’d look in the mirror and see just a fat girl. I shied away from wearing certain clothes, sticking with the ‘safe’. I stayed away from most sports for fear of losing and becoming a laughing stock. Racing, running, jumping.. all a no no. I never danced. I hated formal occasions that required me to dress up. I’d look in the mirror at a face that never looked pretty. How could it? I was perpetually scowling at myself.
I wish someone had told me.. to love myself the way I was.
And the funny part… when I look back at my pictures I find I wasn’t fat. I really wasn’t. Of course it might have been because I was trying so hard most of the time. However, I never stopped to take stock. I never saw that I wasn’t fat fat. I never did enjoy the fruit of my effort.
What a colossal waste!
Later, much later, when I crossed 30 and really put on weight, I went to a gym. I loved it. I loved the exercise, the music, the instructor counting out relentlessly, the sweat trickling down my brow and finally, I loved how I MADE the weighing machine needle move the right way. Each kg that went brought on a delicious pleasure. A pleasure I learnt to savour.
When I had kids, Voldemort struck again. I let him be. I enjoyed my kids putting in the occasional exercise when I could. I loved being a mum, fat and all. Still do :-). Then it was back to the gym.
And the struggle continues. But I’m having fun. I run with the kids without worrying about who’d be laughing at me. I even dance sometimes. Oh I know I look ridiculous but now I know, it doesn’t matter. I often like what I see in the mirror and when I don’t I put on my smile and I look just fine.
Of course I still obsesses about my weight. I write about it constantly. I watch what I eat and of course I binge too. I still hope to become thin one day. But in the meanwhile my life’s not on hold. I’m in no hurry.. I’ve got my whole life to do just that.
I wish someone had told me … to love myself the way I am.
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda
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An accident
Have you noticed how autodrivers drive? Like they own the roads. Squeezing into narrow gaps, speeding mercilessly on speedbreakers and swerving like a bike.. actually they have the brain of a two wheeler in the body of a three-wheeler.
One of them rammed into my scooter this morning, hence the rant. I scrapped my knuckles pretty badly and crashed onto the ground. Happily enough I jumped clear of my scooter right in time.. so no harm done. All would have been well and I’ve had driven away but for the autowallah giving me a cheeky grin. That kind of blew my fuse. While some good samaritans picked up my scooter I blasted him. However that chit of a boy (he must have been in his twenties) was barely bothered, as he stood there nonchalantly. Which made me think that 18 years is really too early to get a driving license, specially for commercial vehicles. Imagine a boy of 20 driving a vanfull of school kids. Scary.
So angry was I that I forgot to thank the kind souls who helped me up :(. As the auto zoomed away I picked myself up and proceeded to the gym and climbed up the three floors without any trouble.. adrenalin does take you places. Hah!
Edited to add: Note to myself…
I realised today my bad-words vocabulary is pathetically stunted. Need to brush it up to meet such situations head-on next time.
Being thin means…
1. Looking at two closely parked cars and not having to think whether I should attempt crossing from between them without getting stuck.
2. Entering an almost full lift without worrying about that embarrassing overload Beep Beep.
3. Having to resist the urge to go up to a stranger and ask him/her “Am I fat.” Only a stranger can actually tell whether you’re ‘thin’; everyone else will only tell whether you’re ‘thinner’, which doesn’t mean much.
4. People not remembering me as “that plump woman” but as “that woman with a nice smile” or “the woman with twins” or even “the woman with the terrible twins”…
5. The sales girl glancing at me and saying, “Try ‘medium’ (please God.. not even ‘small’ just ‘medium’).
6. Asking for a second helping without thinking that the hostess would be thinking.. “So that’s why she’s the way she is”.
7. And if I successfully block off the hostess, not having that image of the weighing machine popping into my head.
8. Getting into a boat without the boatman changing the positions of everyone else.
9. Not having people staring at me and asking , ‘Good news hai?’ only to have to shake my head in the negative.
10. Not looking for a place to hide at the kids’ friend’s birthday party when the MC invites mums to participate in a rope skipping contest. If you’re wondering why anyone would have such a contest I’ll say GMTA . I mean there are so many other things one can do at birthday parties. (The sad thing was .. Naisha wanted me to go and win so badly:(((().
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| Stumbled across this and thought.. how true. |
Seriously this weightloss is turning into an obsession. I do need to stop….. not the weightloss.. the obsession.