Wisdom striking hard yet again. From the back corner of my mouth, it teaches me nothing. I become irritable, monosyllabic in speech and nihilistic.
Crocin-less, I wander in a state of indecision. Should I call it a day and go home, where a Crocin and a bed are waiting but where later yet another round of errands and engagements await? Or should I plod on at work, a mere intern but committed to ideals of responsibility and expected work hours (My boss is too nice and I feel ashamed to be so unhealthy) ?
Monday is not so blue and that is partly the cause of this limbo-ish behaviour. It's been a good day so far, my restless feet dancing but more or less planted on the ground beneath my desk. It's a good run and I don't want to jinx it.
Wait till 5, my mind tells me. You're such a hypochondriac.
Hey! That is so unfair. I have, in the past two weeks, had a sore throat and a series of back aches, the latter being a product of bad ergonomics (the doctor said so) and not imagination (as my father sometimes thinks so). My mind is fine. The discomfort is in my back and now my tooth. The pain is authentic. And irritating.
So go home, or stay and fight?
Showing posts with label Body. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Body. Show all posts
Monday, May 17, 2010
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
The Skinny on Being Thin
I want to be thin.
I've always felt that I was a skinny, uncurvy, athletic tomboy trapped in a well, chubby girl's body. I have felt this way since I was , I don't know, ten? Before that, I used to climb trees and play dodgeball and not care.
Then Hrithik Roshan happened to India. And while all my friends began to drool over him, I drooled over wanting to BE like him . (Did I not mention that I was a weird child?) I began to dance and exercise and got my hair cut really short. (It somehow made me look more er, challenged than boyish, with my curly hair and glasses. Shudder. I hate to recollect those moments of childish insanity).
As I grew out of that phase (thanks be to God that I did!), I had crushes and got crushed in the process. And somehow grew to believe that my chubbiness was the cause of such a situation. Of course, there was the matter of me not being able to bleat a word around the presence of the crush. (Class topper, public speaker, house captain-these designations were harldy daunting compared to saying hello to a boy I fancied. A root canal would've been far less painful.)
So, I did it. I exercised, lost interest in fries and rice and knocked off ten kilos. It made a great difference. Not romantically, but it did wonders to my confidence. I could be loved! I could be a worthy individual and contribute to society!
Well, then I decided to go even more further and shed some more personal gravity this summer and guess what happened. I put on 6 kilos! And my sorrow has been infinite ever since the discovery of this fact (and the painful realisation that 95% of my wardrobe does not fit me).
Like K remarked, "I wish we'd all been born with the perfect bodies we wanted" (I don't know why people who are perfect ALREADY say things like this! He is an ice cream worshipper and can eat all the Toblerones he wants but he still exercises. The dedication of the boy, I tell you. Touchwood for him.)
It's not fair that I got a backache when I went to the gym. It's not fair that pizza is banned for me BY me. It's not fair that all my idol women are thin, thin, thiiinnn (Kareena, Katrina, Shakira, etc) I don't wanna wear kurtas all the time that reach up to my knees. (Well, now I have to. All my skirts have been relegated to the back of the closet). I want to wear skinny jeans and loose clothes without looking bigger than I already am. I want to not nearly kill myself in guilt of having not exercised. I want to jump and hop and skip without people saying "ooohhh earthquake" (well, they USED TO in school. Kids can be so mean.)
Sigh.
But...
A wise person told me (okay, it was K again!) that we are all born with certain flaws and certain perfections. That I should think of all the perfect features that God has given me.
I don't know about perfect features. But I'm sure glad He's given me understanding friends. Thanks for that, God. And well, the Kingdom of Estarra.
But someday........! I hope that gravity shall NOT be on my side...!
I've always felt that I was a skinny, uncurvy, athletic tomboy trapped in a well, chubby girl's body. I have felt this way since I was , I don't know, ten? Before that, I used to climb trees and play dodgeball and not care.
Then Hrithik Roshan happened to India. And while all my friends began to drool over him, I drooled over wanting to BE like him . (Did I not mention that I was a weird child?) I began to dance and exercise and got my hair cut really short. (It somehow made me look more er, challenged than boyish, with my curly hair and glasses. Shudder. I hate to recollect those moments of childish insanity).
As I grew out of that phase (thanks be to God that I did!), I had crushes and got crushed in the process. And somehow grew to believe that my chubbiness was the cause of such a situation. Of course, there was the matter of me not being able to bleat a word around the presence of the crush. (Class topper, public speaker, house captain-these designations were harldy daunting compared to saying hello to a boy I fancied. A root canal would've been far less painful.)
So, I did it. I exercised, lost interest in fries and rice and knocked off ten kilos. It made a great difference. Not romantically, but it did wonders to my confidence. I could be loved! I could be a worthy individual and contribute to society!
Well, then I decided to go even more further and shed some more personal gravity this summer and guess what happened. I put on 6 kilos! And my sorrow has been infinite ever since the discovery of this fact (and the painful realisation that 95% of my wardrobe does not fit me).
Like K remarked, "I wish we'd all been born with the perfect bodies we wanted" (I don't know why people who are perfect ALREADY say things like this! He is an ice cream worshipper and can eat all the Toblerones he wants but he still exercises. The dedication of the boy, I tell you. Touchwood for him.)
It's not fair that I got a backache when I went to the gym. It's not fair that pizza is banned for me BY me. It's not fair that all my idol women are thin, thin, thiiinnn (Kareena, Katrina, Shakira, etc) I don't wanna wear kurtas all the time that reach up to my knees. (Well, now I have to. All my skirts have been relegated to the back of the closet). I want to wear skinny jeans and loose clothes without looking bigger than I already am. I want to not nearly kill myself in guilt of having not exercised. I want to jump and hop and skip without people saying "ooohhh earthquake" (well, they USED TO in school. Kids can be so mean.)
Sigh.
But...
A wise person told me (okay, it was K again!) that we are all born with certain flaws and certain perfections. That I should think of all the perfect features that God has given me.
I don't know about perfect features. But I'm sure glad He's given me understanding friends. Thanks for that, God. And well, the Kingdom of Estarra.
But someday........! I hope that gravity shall NOT be on my side...!
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