A three month long winter hibernation finally get’s over.
Marked by a weekend long spell of back to back washing of everything from clothes
and undies to winter woolens to bed spreads to shoes, my washing machine is on
the verge of disowning me. The degree of messiness of my room has started to
die down and reveal forgotten packs of cigarettes igniting the little joys of life soon
to fade away in a smokey exasperation.
The worst part of oncoming summers is that you can’t hide
behind layers of clothing anymore. Especially the layers of some really awesome looking
long coats. Coats that create an illusion of some abstract shape your body is
comfortably tucked in without worrying about those unwanted curves popping out
from here and there. The moment they come off you suddenly realize you have
gained a gazillion kilos since the last time you strutted around in a white tee
some time last year. Flab can be camouflaged. You get custom tailored pants and
denims with a 50’s waistline that goes right over your navel. And you wear a
belt so tight that if you sneeze it might just tear into your flesh. If only
they sold girdles in Sarojini Nagar. Or maybe they do… (Note to self: Wear
ginormous shades and a hat next time to prevent being recognized in case you do
find girdles)
So I embark upon a self rejuvenation process. Just yesterday
I spent almost a grand on a variety of cosmetics [Himalaya, of course- The Sanskrit
ingredients on the back provides the least bit of a denial that they are no bureaucratic
cosmetic chemicals burning your already suicidal skin {And that’s the second
time I used the word “Bureaucratic” (Pats self on back)}] Walnut scrub, ‘Oil-Balancing’
Face wash, Mud Pack and Cucumber peel off amongst other stuff. But to
compensate all the ayurveda, I finally decided to renounce Medimix soap and got
myself a Shower Gel. Come on let’s face it, a foamy loofa is like the cutest
thing evah.
Now the next thing on the list to tackle the austerities of
winter is discovering a good place where I can work out with aerobics or
pilates or both. I can’t do a gym. Lord knows I tried. All those weights with
the muscle-boy trainers (hot) grunting at you (hot) to do 54678th
set was super depressing. Even all the jaat boys in the world couldn’t get me
to stretch anymore. And Lord knows I can ‘stretch’. All a girl really wants is
to wear tights and dance and twist and bend. Or at least that’s what I seriously
hope Aerobics would be all about.
Also, at some point this year, I plan to muster all the
courage in my life and get my very first waxing done. MmmHmm. Don’t ask.
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