Of Fat Freedoms and Wait Losses

You know you’re doomed when you can’t fit into your favourite pair of jeans. You thought that the chance do your own thing was the smartest career move you could have made. You thought it would make you the master of your self – you wake up/sleep when you please, you work when you have to, you move deadlines or appointments to suit your partner’s movie urges, you save commuting time, and, best of all, you get to eat great homemade food at regular intervals; heck, you even decide the time you want to spend in the gym. Of course, you miss the assured paycheck at the end of every month, but it’s the price you pay for your freedom. Azaad(i). Free. Independent?

Before you could even figure out what’s happening, your movements have become sluggish, your sleep requirement has increased, you’re doing late nights and late late mornings, and having three meals a day instead of your usual four. You don’t miss gym a single day, and munch more frequently than you ever did. You stay away from junk food and cake, but it’s summer and you can’t avoid the beer. Your trainer reassures you that it’ll all pare down soon but you know you’re not doing that extra set of 20 or the extra 30 min burn dance. You tell yourself that it won’t happen to you, ‘cause you’re a sensible, dedicated kid.

And it’s not just your waistline. Your brain, unused to inactivity, becomes a sponge like never before. It absorbs all the information from serial re-runs to documentaries on youtube; from the new book you’re reading to the dozens of magazine articles you skim through; television and films regain their non-guilty space. However, it refuses to, indeed does not need to, assimilate any of this. There are no hardlining deadlines (yet) and the brain is enjoying its free run. You let your mind wander into philosophy, but not the Kant or Kierkegaardian kind, rather the aimless free thinking of the jeans vs skirt kind. Okay, sometimes you do dwell on the optimist vs fool issue, you question your purpose on earth and re-evaluate your relationships.

Then, after a few more weeks have passed, you avoid the scales altogether, and plan to buy new tees that hide the evidence of your indulgence. You try to take solace in your imbalanced hormonal conditions, and blame the unrelenting weather. You feel great, you look fuller, and the family queues up to compliment your healthy, non-stick-ly ways. Suddenly, you walk in to a trial room during sale and realise that your sizes have changed. You become genuinely alarmed and decide to mull it over in the nice new coffee shop you saw on the ground floor. You promise yourself an aerobic lifestyle and are thrilled at the prospect of a new challenge.

But the challenge doesn’t really come. You wait. The tide turns, the clouds appear and thunder but nothing continues to happen. You imagine that brilliant spark you thought you had as you wait for your chance in the rain. It deserts you soon, just like the rain. You eventually dig into tikki and jalebi, savouring the losses of your wait.

Then your friends begin to notice the new chin, the thunder arm, the tummy that mis-leads questions on what you’re growing inside, the underwear outline on your old-figure-hugging-now-butt-hugging pants.  And the same beloved partner scoffs at your love handles and chastises every drop or morsel that enters or exits your system. Your credit limits have diminished but you always knew the cost of keeping it single and independent. You still believe you’ll stay afloat. Till one day, your two-and-a-half year old niece, who has not only just learnt to talk intelligibly but also to swim, grabs your handles precociously, looks up at you and laughingly utters – you’re fat.

No More Tears: The Advantages of FB Therapy

There was a time when a good cry could solve almost any problem. Touchy parents, touchier boyfriends, exasperating friends...a book that made you think too much, a song that reminded you of lost love, a film that had a sorry little kid... a directionless career, no money to buy that beer, a dysfunctional air-conditioner...headaches, fevers, pms, or just plain irritation. Mothers on soppy operas or melodrama in films would always tell you to not hold back and lighten the "dil ka bojh". Rudimentary psychology. Sitting on even the most expensive couches in the world you would be counseled to do pretty much the same - let it out of your system. 

Then one day the bulwarks of capitalism invented retail therapy – and all you ever needed was a good buy (and of course a credit card). Sometimes a donut would do the trick, other times you needed a sexy little dress (which you would perhaps never wear). The amount you spent was inversely proportional to your bank balance, but it assuaged the emotions. Sooner (much sooner) than later, it made you pay a huge price. And, therefore, many many more tears.

Till the arrival of the digital age. So that smart mobile phone/tablet/computer you bought on your last binge could be turned into a cheaper, easier outlet. Let it out into the world…spread/share the misery, take solace in the agony of others, feel relieved when someone “likes” your status and adds her little two-bit… give some experienced advice of your own, post that sad number or that morbid Nietzsche quote…compare your pics and comment on how fat you look now till someone (preferable plural) tells you how beautifully anaemic you are…

Though the fate of the retail cries still remains uncertain, once you usher in the age of Facebook therapy, you will never rue the day you said goodbye to those headache inducing, puffy-eye giving, pillow wetting teary habits.