Monday, July 17, 2006

Can't Hardly Weight

Soooooo, since we all love talking about my weight [oh yes we do! at least, we'd better] let me go ahead and plunge right down to it. I'm not saying I enjoy waking up at 5:30 in the morning and knocking over every article of furniture on my floor to get to the bathroom. To begin with, it bruises. Besides, I can't take a crap under pressure, I just can't. And don't you dare ask what pressure, cuz everybody knows if I don't make it to the gym by 6:25, every treadmill and every cross-trainer in the vicinity will be taken over by musclemen and middle-aged women trying to burn last night's hangover and teriyaki. Which is OK. But if I'm making the effort to gargle with toothpaste before exhaling like an efficient dragon on the treadmill, I expect YOU, and yes I mean you in your orange sleeveless vest panting right next to me on the cross-trainer, to do the same. It's all part of some large scheme to never let me lose any weight, as I've gathered. Now that all else has failed, some greater force is trying to suffocate me with garlicy crap-breath first thing in the morning, the moment I start a slow trudge on an incline. I mean, it's uncanny, this one guy will hang around running his fingers over the weights, and then the moment I'm on the treadmill, he'll hop right on to the c-t next to me, and WHO, i ask you, WHO stuffs his face with garlic first thing in the morning? Well, this dude does. Major conspiracy, I tell you.
And because of this spirited stenchman, every morning I hold my breath till an unhealthy angryish hue overwhelms my entire face, and I'm looking like a perfectly turned out baked tomato. When I can't take it anymore, and I go "AAAAAAAAAHRGH" to fill my lungs with toxic fumes from the neighbourhood, our friendly neighbour will look innocently at me and say,"Good workout, huh?"
Is it any wonder then, that I'm not getting more than 10 minutes of treadmill time? I mean, I'm not a maniac, I'll choose death by obesity over asphyxiation any day, thank you.
Anyway, the other day Page 3 Aunty M and my mother were discussing over ab crunches how they couldn't lose any weight off their stomach because they'd been pregnant. 27, and 23 years ago, respectively. Aunty M whispered conspiratorially that she had once considered joining VLCC. My mother, ever ready to jump the bandwagon, threw her hands in the air and shouted,"Liposuction!" much in the fashion of an elderly person discovering volume in his bathtub in erstwhile Greece.
We're women of action, we are. The next day, my mother and I found ourselves at VLCC. She wanted a tummy tuck because that apparently was the only thing stopping her from being .. yes, you guessed it - Shakira. Me, I just wanted to be able to buy a pair of jeans from the Ladies' section.
So there we were. Polite attendant smiled plasticly and bade me step on a gigantic weighing machine as enormous men in tiny bathrobes passed me by. Measurements and whatnots later, 'twas time for the "Consultation". Here's how it went:
Polite attendant: Hmm. The results of your weigh-in are quite favourable.
Me (starry-eyed): Really? Do I satisfy fatness requirements? Am I really really eligible to pay you tonnes of money to take things off my thighs?
PA: Akchooally, myadam, you are only 4 kilos overweight, according to height-weight ratio.
embarassing silence
My Mother (holding stomach): HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Me: Uhm .. there must be a mistake. According to my calculations, and those of my gym instructor, I'm about 8-10 kilos overweight.
PA (firmly): No madam, only 4 kilos. You will be perfect figure then. I am telling you, no?
Me: Are you telling me I'm 4 kilos away from looking like Heidi Klum?
PA (smiling, she's got the drift): You will look like Priyanka Chopra!
MM (making a dishonest effort to suppress laughter by clutching stomach and looking like Constipation itself): Hnyeh! ...hNyeh hNyeh ... 4 kilos!!!! hNyeh hNyeh... kirom murgi korchhe toke!
PA raises eyebrow delicately.
Me:[Offo! Chup korbe tumi?] Uhm... actually, I have huge thighs, I was looking in terms of doing something about them. I exercise, but nothing seems to come of[f] it.
PA: Please stand and pull up your top so I can observe your thighs. Madam.
Me: Uh ... woah?
PA: I must see your thighs and evaluate them. Madam.
MM: Don't, please. Traumatic experience.
I do as I'm told.

PA (a trifle worried): Hmm. Yes, it is a problem area that requires immediate attention. I will make you a package specially designed for your thigh-type, ok?
Me (aghast): There are thigh-types? What thigh-type am I?
PA (very, very, gravely): Madam. That is confidential company information. I cannot tell you.

AWRITE awrite, so maybe I exaggerated a bit. But most of what I've written is true. Honest.

Anyway, there wasn't any chance my mother was shelling out 11k for an inch and a half off my thighs and buttocks. Like taking a drop out of the ocean, really.
Frightfully disheartened at having missed an opportunity to drain the family finances, I thought up a different plan.

Sunday morning. Breakfast table. Everybody's reading the papers:

Me: I want to pierce my eyebrow.
Mother (not looking up from paper): Hoochie Mama.
Father (not looking up from paper): Tart.



Anonymous said...

hilarious!.. very nice read. :)

Nayan said...

Awesome! Hilarious!! =)))))

Anonymous said...

hahaha...this is rich, this is beyond funny!! more, more, more....hahahahaha (continues to laugh deliriously)

Anonymous said...

i really am thinking of joining a gym now!!................hahahahahahaha(falls off chair)

arundhati said...

problem area-ta tey borong ekta sexy tattoo kor....besh embracing your problem area types byaapar hobey...aar hebby hot types laagbey.
you're welcome.

rainbeau_peep said...

anon & nahuatl & mad hatter,
Thank you. Nothing pleases me more than to see that my life leaves everyone in splits. :-]

By all means. But carry a sophisticated breath-analyser with u, so u know which persons ran out of toothpaste and forgot to buy a new tube!

thigh tey tattoo? hmm. u want me to draw attention to my thighs? kyano rey, erom shotru kyano? ami ki ekbaro bolechhi toke bhNuri tey tattoo korte? :-p
[although u know i've toyed with the idea of a tattooed ass. there's something very appealing about that.]
oh, and if ur reading this first thing in the morning becoz u just can't get enough of me, then make sure ur bottom and urself are both present at Cakes - 11:30.

March Hare said...

but...but...but....YOU BE VEWY PWETTY!!! why you go to such lengths??????????

J said...

Just came across your blog.

Girl! I hear you! I do these runs and these swims, but nothing in the world takes this extra inch off the butt and upper thigh vicinity. As for the jeans in the Ladies's section, they're my ambition too. The waist ok, but the thighs, apparently the whole populace is expected to be anorexic, caffeine drinking models whose lunches and dinners consist of smoking cigarettes. If you ever figure out a way,push it htis way too. I am willing to serve you for the rest of my mortal existence.

Casablanca said...

Hope you forgive your readers for laughing as much as your mother did at VLCC ;)

PS: So was the eye-brow pierce approved?

Anonymous said...

do write a new post. anyway, i live in a hostel n most mornings begin with rabid hordes searching for a toothpate tube left in the open!!..

rainbeau_peep said...

My dear child. You make me glow like an angel's halo. However. Dolphins are vewy pwetty. Polar bears, are vewy pwetty. Sophie, the friendly orang-utan at the Singapore Zoo, is, vewy pwetty - from certain angles at least.
The fact remains, nevertheless, that not all pwetty things can fit into a "normal" sized swimsuit. Or shop for jeans. :-[

LOL. It's worse when you find that you're also a coffee addict and a smoker, but does that ruin your health and take some pounds off your thighs? U bet not. I recently read that those who get under 7 hours of sleep everyday are more likely to be obese. That's the new gameplan -now I'm sleeping 10 hours a day for good measure. Will let u know if it works - don't depend on it, though. :-[

Aah, my dear. It is the simple pleasures of life that are being denied me. I mean, really, what am I asking my parents to fund? A Rs.50k liposuction? A Rs. 50k boob job? Twenty tummy tuck sessions? But no, they won't agree to ANYthing. Nothing, I tell ya.
And no, the eyebrow pierce was rejected with piercing glares. Oh, the torment!

oh my God. so ur one of them! one of those who never bother to buy toothpaste and brush only when they happen to come across a tube? Do u also own an orange sleeveless vest and use the cross-trainer at my gym? If you do, i'm calling jihad.

jhantu said...

bad mommy bad daddy and pooor u.. now use ur charm and lure a stinking rich but brain the size of peanuts guy to shell out the 11k+ that so desperately need

Rapid I Movement said...

Aacha, might I just chip in this that "tart" shobdo-tir ortho, according to this is:

A pastry shell with shallow sides, no top crust, and any of various fillings.

Uncle-er bodhoy khidey peyechilo :P

rainbeau_peep said...

if you can find me one that fits the bill, i'll give u a commission. promise.

stunt master,
Iye. Tart hochhe also a woman who dresses in a loud and garish manner. [aaro meaning aachhe. moteo bolchhi na.]
Btw, buker pNajor etc shob ek piece e aachhe to? Matha ta to clearly gyechhe. :-|

scorpionragz said...

oooh hooo hoooo hoo
(wipes tears)
that was me falling off the chair!!
(wipes tears streaming down cheeks)
(gasps for breath)
my god!!!!
taht was toooooooooooooo funnney!!!!
Girl, if i can shop for jeans from the ladies sexn, so can u.
i will go with u nex tym and give u support.
man will keep close eye on this blog!! tooooooooooooooo hilarious!!!!

Anonymous said...

Hi! I got into tattoos recently.
Love your blog articles.
I've created my own blog as an ode to the art form. :-)