Notes from an almost-empty-nester
… smiles, hugs, happiness
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| Hrit Naisha…. three years back |
I need to launch a save-my-pizza drive because my weight loss programme seems to be slipping away. Just when I became consistent at the gym it decides to go for a face lift, the gym I mean. Apparently there are plans to include a spa. Who needs a spa for godssake? Give me simple machines any day.
Anyway, so now one half of the gym has been broken down and is being reconstructed while we workout in the other half. There’s cement everywhere. The changing rooms and washrooms are not there at all. It’s been a week now, since the exercise room has been shutdown. That means no aerobics, no abs, no yoga. More bad news — no ACs, no fans. With this hot and humid weather, there are days I walk out of the gym only because I’m embarrassingly drenched — oh I sweat like a horse and the exercise makes it worse.
I made my way so very reluctantly to the gym this Saturday only to find none of the cross trainers or the treadmills functional. Power Cut. Aaaaaarrrrrgh! No cardio then! How long can one do weights!
However, the worst bit is that the weighing machine has been kept away. Checking my weight every day is my biggest motivator, no matter what the verdict. I HATE not knowing how much I weigh each day. It’s been almost a week since I checked and that makes me feel like I’m fighting in the dark. I don’t know how hard to exercise. I begged the trainer to please please plug in the machine and he had the nerve to say, “Madam do din mein weight nahin badhta.” Really? I could do it in two hours.
I’ve been trying to figure out my weight on the age-old machine we have at home but it’s no use. Here I am counting grams and this battered old thing thinks nothing of missing the mark by a few kgs.
Then there are the construction workers. It’s kind of ironical to be struggling to lose weight (piled on through years of over-indulgence) while they’re struggling for their daily survival. The women, specially, stare unabashedly, looking puzzled and amused. I bet they’re thinking, “Come lift some buckets of cement instead of those silly dumbells.” They make me feel self-conscious/guilty… certainly uncomfortable.
The walks are faltering too what with The Husband coming home late. Even though the kids crash by 9 I’m pacing around all dressed up waiting for him to get home so I can go for the walk. By the time he gets home I’ve lost steam.
I can feel that pizza slipping away.
In his mind he is this invincible cricket champ that no one can defeat. Unfortunately he’s way lost about the rules of the game. The other day he took the crease. The bowler came running out and raised her hand to ball… “Stop stop stop,” yelled Hrit. “That’s not how you ball. If you throw the ball so high how will it come to the bat? You have to throw it lower, like this (meaning: underhand bowling).” He demonstrated.
When the girl protested he got angry. They reached some kind of an understanding because the game resumed and then again I heard the kids chanting “Cheater cheater, Hrit is a cheater.”
Now I know that’s just not true.. Hrit can be many things nasty, but cheater he’s not.
What happened, I asked.
A tearfully upset Hrit explained.. “I was taking runs and he knocked off the wicket. That’s not out na ma? The ball didn’t even touch the bat.” According to him a catch is the only way to be out.
“You were out of the crease,” said the bowler. “What’s a crease?” shot back Hrit, puzzled.
You see the extent of the problem? I tried hard to explain with my limited knowledge, then decided to rope in The Husband. Cricket doesn’t really interest me unless the cricketer is handsome or we’re winning the world cup, not just playing, winning.
The Husband, quintessential lazy man that he is, said, “Don’t worry I’ll draw out the field on a piece of paper and explain it to him.” So much for practical demonstration! It was time to use the ‘tedhi ungli’ so I put Hrit on the job. “Papa’s a cricket champ. You must ask him to teach you,” I told him. Once Hrit got the idea my job was done. Not only was he after The Husband’s life I overheard him bragging to his friends too, “My father is the best ‘batter’ and ‘baller’ in the whole world.”
Who can be immune to such flattery? And so come Sunday morning The Husband is off with the kids to get them a ‘cricket kit’ while I find some peace to blog. Cricket can’t be ALL bad if it gives me some peace.
In a capsule then..
We went to bid farewell to Ganapati. This is something one must see to believe… the celebration, the drumbeats, the crowd and above all the Ganapati’s arriving in cars, in trucks, atop tempos,.. an amazing sight. Then Hrit Naisha had a World Fiesta at their school and much grief that caused me, but more on that later. They’ve been unusually trying these past few days and I’ve all but jumped down from my ninth floor home. On a happy note – I read some great books. And of course there is the weight loss that is slowly turning into an obsession.
First the weight loss. Yesterday was a landmark day because The Husband noticed, yes really he noticed. “You’ve lost a bit,” said he casually as I was ‘booting’ up after putting the kids to sleep for my nine O’ clock walk. “A bit” when I’ve lost almost 6 kgs and have been bragging about it all the time. But that’s the thing with The Husband… he won’t say it till he sees it. Which is why I NEVER EVER ask him the question I ALWAYS want to ask him, “Am I looking fat?” No point. He’ll say exactly what the mirror says.. and I know that already Thank You.
I’ve been supplementing the gym with short/long walks as and when I can. Being a stay-at-home mum does have its perks. It’s really not as tough to find time as a working mum. I’ve come to enjoy, really enjoy, the walks any day more than the gym. There’s the seductive Pune breeze, for starters, that seems to actually call out as soon as one steps out.
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| Best pals |
Then I flicked The Husband’s ear phones and loaded some tracks on my mobile all on my own, despite being severely technologically challenged. So now I have the Senoritas, Darlings and Chamak Challos for company (Somehow the cheesiest of songs sound the best while I’m exercising) plus people in the society don’t expect me to stop and make small talk.. a smile, a wave and I’m on my way. What’s better I can go easy at the gym.
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| Control nahin hota |
Then he dropped in at Kayani Bakery the other day and got home with a huge pack of Shrewsberry biscuits and two cakes. Two, when he’s diabetic and I’m trying to lose weight. And it was a weekend. Why why why would he do that???? Had I not known him better I’d have thought he was trying to sabotage my weight loss. But The Husband wouldn’t bother.. he’s the most non-hidden-agenda-person I’ve ever seen. Anyway, I got through the biscuits in about three days. No one makes it like Kayani.
However, I neutralised it all with exercise. Isn’t that great? The gym closed for two days for some restructuring which is how I got back to the comp.
The target now is another five kgs till my birthday in December which I shall celebrate with a Cheese Burst Pizza and a bottle of Sprite. That should keep me going.
Afterthought: I have become my own Chinese Mum .
