Figuring it out!!

I have been full figured almost all my life-too full!! For a long time I had no idea why I couldn't look slim like all my other friends. I started relying on fad diets very early on - because I felt a quick fix was what I needed. My parents enrolled me for badminton and karate classes when I was in school, but somehow the weight just wouldn't come off. I actually felt invisible on many occasions, when people would just look past me as though being fat also made me invisible. On one occasion I heard one of the boys in my school call me a Road Roller...that's when I learnt to laugh at these jokes. Self-depreciating humour has always been one of my specialities since then. I also become an extrovert - became loud and a bit flamboyant, just to make sure no one would take advantage of the introvert I really was. The more troubled I felt, the louder and aggressive I became. All the while the shy person inside me was slowly retreating into a shell.

One of the basic flaws of self-depreciating humour is that somewhere along the way, you even begin to kid yourself into believing that barbs don't hurt anymore. You listen to random people coming up to you and giving you tips on how to lose weight and how much it will benefit you, people talking about how your weight affects you looks, makes you look older and crack fat jokes around you, you kind of tune off and a kind of numbness sets in. My cure for numbness - Ice cream! So it was more like a vicious cycle. Sadly, in all these taunts, barbed, veiled comments I never saw the motivation to lose weight and show these "well-wishers" that I can do it too. Had my moments where I would work out like crazy and eat well and lost tons of weight, but soon enough they would come back on again.

Then I think God took pity on me and decided to give my condition a proper medical name - PCOD!! Hurray!! Now I could tell these people exactly why I was how I was and if I said it the right way, could even make it sound like a grave debilitating illness. Now I would  have the last laugh...until I used this on my aunt. She looked at me sternly and said - L, this isn't a disease. It is a condition - a condition you have the power to control. So stop acting like you have 3 days to live and go do something about it...and while we are on the topic, if you feel bad when people talk about your weight, TELL THEM. They will stop. It is only when you laugh along that people think we can handle it. If you put yourself down, so will others. Do you understand? Properly chastised I decided to do something about my attitude before I did something about my weight. See how my lazy body comes up with ways to avoid working out.

Am still working on my attitude, but have also started working on my body. Years of pseudo-extrovertism is difficult to shed off and letting that shy, quiet person inside me to get the courage to see the light of day is still a work in progress.

On your mark...get set....GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Picture this scenario - A room with 2 doors... 2 very small doors and a sea of humanity pushing and shoving to get through them....to get at the food that is being served in this room. Old, young, men, women, children alike trying desperately to get in and willing to physically hurt anyone who tries to get between them and the food.

If you pictured this scenario in your head...think of what clothes these people are wearing, where this place could be...for anyone who guessed it is probably some relief camp of sorts and these people are in basic worn out clothes, try again....All those who guessed it to be a gathering of people dressed in their finest, the venue to be a wedding hall in Kerala and these were guests rushing to have the wedding lunch then give yourself a pat on the back. Welcome to the wedding lunch stampede.

The scenario I mentioned is what I have seen at every wedding I have attended - venue, class, caste no bar (Disclaimer - Have only been to a couple of Hindu weddings and 1 Christian wedding, so can only talk about them). Now these people aren't gate-crashers, free-loaders or college students out for a free meal. They are invited guests at the wedding, who know that even if this mad race to the plate isn't won, they will still get served.  These are people who probably make the same meal that is being served at the wedding in their house on a  daily basis - yet the sight of the laid out banana leaf spread or the laden plate causes a hysteria among them.

It's amusing to watch how when people assemble to in the wedding hall, many of them pick seats near the door - easy to rush to the exit (I bet no one thought going to the wedding required such strategic planning). The preparation for the race starts from the moment the bride and groom settle on the stage - ready to tie the knot. The minute the knot is tied...there is rustle of anticipation among the crowd - On your mark....the women look around for their children and grab their handbags, the men put on their shoes or chappals and ready themselves, the elderly look around for someone who will escort them out; Get set...The knot has been tied and the bride and groom start their 1st of the obligatory 3 rounds; Go Go Go...The minute (OK I exxagerate - some have it perfected to a nano-second) the bride and groom settle back down, there is a rumbling sound and when the dust settles only the couple's immediate family and the slow starters are left in the hall. All this to have a free lunch and criticise it later

My Haunted Laptop

Was sitting in front of my laptop one hot Sunday afternoon, looking at the blank word document trying to put into words the random thoughts in my head. My son was fast asleep and G was so engrossed in the making of his PPT that he wouldn't even realise it if someone kidnapped me (although on second thoughts, he might lock the door after them to make sure they can't change their mind!) - but I digress. All of a sudden, the screen saver vanishes and the words - Hi...What are you doing? pop up on my screen...ON MY MS WORD!!!! For a minute I am confused and wonder if this is a new chat screen or something, but realise that my messenger is not on. Before my imagination goes wild, I just close the screen and open a new document and suppress the odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. Then it happens again - Are you trying to ignore me L? the message asks. My palms start to feel sweaty and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. I quickly shut down the computer and walk into the kitchen. After many gulps of cold water, I wash my face and walk back to the laptop. I switch it back on and decide not to open MS word this time, but the minute the computer is on and loaded, Google homepage opens and in the search bar appear the words - Why did you do that? How can you shut me off when I'm talking to you? Don't make me angry. I jump out of the chair and in a soft voice called out to G- Can you come and look at my computer...it doesn't seem right. G cocks his head to one side, eyes still glued to his screen and asks in a slightly distracted voice - What is it? What's wrong? Some strange things are coming up on the screen - I say, my eyes glued to the screen. Ya...read more cartoons. Haven't I told you those sites are risky. I am sure it's a virus. Another google screen opens and in the search box comes the message -No one can help you. Now I am mad at G and the errr...ghost?.  Don't sermonise me now...come and see what's happening. As I am shouting at G, the search bar types out a new message - Don't call him...Don't make me hurt him. Before I fully comprehend what that means, G makes a move to get up from his chair...then frowns at his screen and says How did that happen? What? - I ask not really paying attention. I somehow deleted the whole presentation that I've been making all weekend. How did I do that? - G sits back, looking very worried. WHAT - I shriek, and close the laptop and jump to unplug it. Tears are running down my face now and I am huddled on the couch really freaked out. Every ghost story I've read or heard pop up in my mind. Seeing my reaction G slowly walks over to me, sits down and asks - Why are you crying? As I blubber my way through my explanation, G stops me and says  - Look at this and walks over to his laptop and emerges cheekily with a wireless keyboard and mouse in hand...the source of my ghost!!!

And that's why I killed him, your honor...I say in my head.

My Hero...My Dad

I am jolted awake by the irritable buzzing of the cell phone. My hubby jumps up and tries to silence it before it wakes our son. I turn over, still groggy, when hubby pushes the phone in my face and says-It’s your mum!! I am instantly awake. The trained world-clock in me knows that it is an unholy hour in SA now and this call is the bearer of bad news. With the resonance of my blood rushing in my ears, I compose my voice and ask casually-What’s up Ma? Why aren’t you asleep? There is split second of silence at the other end, before my mum replies – Dad’s not well. Had chest pain last night and is in the hospital now. My mind is racing as I push back the covers and try to get a grip – Is he OK? Was it a … I can’t even bring myself to say it. Yes says she It was a heart attack…but he’s ok now. Don’t worry. I just felt lost in this empty apartment, that’s why I called you. Just wanted to hear your voice. Go back to…I didn’t hear the rest as I passed the phone to my hubby and burst into tears. There was just one thought running through my mind – I don’t know how to live without my dad and I don’t want to.

I always feel like a little girl around my dad and have always been glad that I have the sole privilege of calling him "Dad". When my son came along, my jealous heart did a quick flutter - What if he loves my son more than me? I have been his most precious possession for 27years...will N take that place? But my dad, being MY DAD, had it all figured out. When dad first came to India after N was born, he made sure he came to me first and gave me my usual chocolate and sat down to hear all about ME before he even looked at N. My sane mind knew that he was itching to hold his grandson, but he knew that I would have been heart-broken if he went to N first. Many a night I have woken to the sight of my dad rocking my son in his cradle with one hand and reading a book with the other, totally chilled out, even though it was 3 in the morning and he knew N would wake the minute the rocking stopped.

My dad's a simple man...and ordinary man, who always leads by example. Although I always fell short of his expectations, he never let me feel inferior. My utter and absolute devotion towards my dad has irked my mum on more than one occasion, but Ma let me tell you a little secret. You have no idea that every time we fight, he calls me up and asks me not to upset  you; reminds me discreetly about your upcoming b'day and well...I'll let him tell you the rest. What can I say...He's the first man in my life, my first Valentine, my Hero...I constantly feel that I can never truly express my love for him and this post doesn't even begin to describe the depth of my feeling for him or the influence he has in my life. How do you describe a love so strong and powerful, that words seem hollow and empty to comprehend its intensity. My only real grievance is that he never gave me the slightest indication that he was made of a special mold and I would never in my life encounter another man like him.

3years later my dad is as fit as a fiddle (God Bless) and our lives are all the more richer for it. My dad's a simple man...an ordinary man who, in my opinion, no man can ever hold a candle to....My blessing from God...My dad...I would be so lost without you!

Anecdotes from Singapore-2

Anecdotes contd....(these are slightly R rated.)

4. Electronic sale on in Singapore. That's when the secret shopaholic in my husband awakens. He is like a bull in a china shop kid in a candy store- he wants everything that he sees. Everything around him fades into oblivion when he approaches a sale. Although during the 1st year of marriage,this Shopaholic Mr Hyde in action shocked me, I got used to it as it was only a fleeting spilt-personality appearance. Last year on one such rampage after having bought way too much, he stopped for a fleeting second and probably thought he was being too selfish. So he looked at me and said - Why don't you pick up something. There are so many nice things around. I smiled and told him to carry on and get it out of his system so that we could go home. But he persisted and his eyes landed on an epilator. The sales man handed it to him and went to check on some other customers. It was a very fine looking Philips epilator and as I was looking at it, my hubby asked - What are those different shapes in the box? I explained that they were stencils and are used to give designs while shaving, hoping he understood what I was talking about. He immediately takes one out, puts it on my hand and asks- Who has such thick hair on their hands and legs to make designs and why do people want to make heart shapes on their hands and legs? I noticed the sales man slowing coming towards us, so I immediately took the stencil out of DH's hands and dragged him away. He looked a suitable shade of red when I told him what the stencils were for. Later on my gal friends and I had a good laugh over this incident.

5. Scene 1 - Shopping Mall
Out shopping with my son at a local supermarket. Was looking for some cough syrup while my son sat in the trolley reading a Playhouse Disney magazine. Hearing a noise behind us, both of us turned around and saw that it was a man who had dropped a few boxes of condoms on the floor. My son imm perks up and says - Oh uncle, you dropped some boxes. The poor man looked too embarrassed to even look up, so I grabbed the cough syrup and pushed the trolley away. As we were moving away Nikhil asks - Mummy, what is that box uncle dropped? For some odd reason I told him in a matter of fact voice - Those are condoms. Somehow that seemed to satisfy him and I thought that was the end of that.
Cut to Scene 2 -Cab ride on the way back home
While I was loading up the cab with the groceries, I could hear Nikhil engaging in his own kind of tête-à-tête with the cabbie. By the time I got into the cab, the driver and my son had become fast friends and the cabbie extended his friendship towards me as well. After having heard his opinion about everything from govt to traffic problems to cost of food and rent in a matter of a mins; I was trying to nod politely to everything when he asked - So how much do you pay for your condo?...and my sonny dear pipes up - What's a condom mummy? If I had been hoping for something to shut the driver up, then this was it.  Maybe in his mind he was trying to think whether he said the word and the rest of the journey was spent in absolute silence from his side. I quietly told Nikhil that a condom is that place that we live in and is short for Condominium...Ofcourse he knew that wasn't right and told me that uncle didn't drop our house...luckily we reached home by then and Nikhil got engrossed in paying for the ride and making sure I got all the things out of the trunk. Now waiting for the day when his doubt will re-surface and I know for sure it will be in a very public place.

Battle of the sexes

‘E’ walked into the room, hesitantly. She wasn’t sure of her new environment. It seemed intimidating and a bit scary. She looked around hoping someone would catch her eye, but none seemed to notice her there. Everyone sat in groups and she felt she wouldn’t fit in. She noticed a boy sitting by himself, reading a book. She approached him tentatively and sat down beside him. He seemed not to see her, but she felt better in his company. As days passed, she made new friends, but spent most of her time by the side of the boy she knew as ‘N’ – who still seemed to be unaware of her existence.

Every morning she would eagerly wait for his arrival. Her eyes would light up when he walked in and she would leave everything, just to wish him. On some days she would touch him lightly on his hand or break into a beautiful smile, but without even acknowledging her, he would walk away. Undeterred she continued to lavish all her attention on him. She made it a practice to be by the door when he left for the day and made sure he never left anything behind. His seemingly impolite and distant attitude didn’t faze her.
A few months later, on her birthday she waited impatiently for him to arrive. She was dressed in her finest and wanted him to notice her; wanted him to wish her. As soon as he walked in, she walked up to him and said quietly – It’s my B’day today. How do I look? He looked her up and down and walked right into the room, mumbling something. Those around her, who knew the occasion, wished her, but it just wasn’t the same. She was heart-broken. She had had enough. That day when he left for the day, she didn’t even look up from her work. She had other friends…she didn’t need him!!

The next day when N walked in, he knew something was different…he just didn’t know what it was. N felt lonely at lunch and realized that E used to give him company every day. As days passed he missed her constant chatter, missed her fond greetings and goodbyes. He realized he felt “sad” at the loss. The next morning when he walked into the room, he zoned in on E and walked right up to her and wished her “good morning”. She looked up…but continued to give N the cold shoulder. All day, he spent as much time as possible by her side, sometimes just sitting beside her, but trying to make his presence felt. As he got up to leave for the day, he made sure to wave “goodbye”. Suddenly E felt that all was right with the world again…just as he was about to leave, E ran up to him, gave N a big hug and kiss and N hugged right back. She stood, waving; till his stroller disappeared out the school gate…she couldn’t wait to see him again tomorrow.

In her own way, 3year old E had learnt a life lesson. The only way to get a man’s attention is to ignore him…

Good Mourning...Goodbye

A year after he fled the world, Michael Jackson was more alive than ever in all the news channels today. Sad to see that even after his death, controversy is still his companion. A piece about how his dad Joe Jackson flourished in the days after his famous meal-ticket son’s death and seemed not to be in mourning made me think - Is there a stringent way to mourn? Is there a “Mourning for Dummies” which tells you how to react to a passing?

My maternal grandfather passed away the year I finished school. The Gulf war, a few years back, had given him a weak heart and age wasn’t on his side either. When we came to know that he was very sick, my mum and dad rushed about trying to get to India as fast as possible. I was more upset at leaving Riyadh for good than anything else…I don’t know if it was selfish of me, but I guess the enormity of the situation didn’t sink in…till I walked into the hospital room. There on the bed lay a shadow of the man I called Achicha (grandfather)…the person whom I had always only seen in starched kurtas and perfectly ironed mundu (dhoti) lay covered to his waist in a ghastly hospital sheet. This person had been my friend during my vacations…my walking buddy come rain or shine…the person whom I loved to fight with…the neat freak who lovingly let me eat from his plate even though it was something he hated…the supposedly “angry man” who put up with all my idiosyncrasies…just lay there in bed watching as my mum sat beside him and wept.

My grand-dad passed away a few days afterwards. When they brought his body home in the dead of the night, there was no electricity due to heavy rains. The moment his body entered the threshold of the house he had so lovingly built, all the lights came on in a flash, then there was flash of lightning and deafening thunder and then blinding darkness again. To me it felt like the Nature was giving him an honorary 21 gun salute. I dutifully sat beside his body and watched as people who knew him from different walks of life came to pay their last respects – yet I sat there unmoved. My attention remained fixed on his face. There was a calm beautiful smile on his face – it seemed he was laughing at some private joke and I remember wondering what it could be. Everyone seemed to want to comfort me, but I felt nothing…I wasn’t happy, but I didn’t feel any sadness either. I am not sure if anyone thought it was odd that I looked so indifferent, so uncaring, and totally devoid of any emotion…but I didn’t shed a tear. Just didn’t feel like it. He was laid to rest in the compound of the ancestral house facing his room. Whenever I saw mum and granny crying I wondered why I didn’t feel this grief and wondered if I was such a heartless creature. I would dream about him every night, about all the little things we did together and always got up happy and again that emotion confused me. I don’t think I want to justify this behavior by thinking that I was detached or in shock or something. I felt fully in control and I wasn’t fighting back tears and trying to be brave either. A week later a few of us we were sitting in my grandfather’s room talking. My mum’s cousin lay on her lap and reminiscing about my mum’s marriage and how much he wanted to go see her get married, but everyone was against it as he was very naughty and how my grandfather had ignored everyone and taken him along and given him sweets and stuff … somewhere along the way both of them began to cry and that was it. I felt like a hand was squeezing my throat, choking me. I got up and ran as fast as I could and ended up in a little corridor of the house before the tears overtook me. I cried and cried like I had never cried before….cried for everything my granddad was to me, how I would never get to tell him how much he meant to me, how much he would be missed, how I would have loved to hold his hand and gone on one last walk with him…how I would have liked to have one last fight with him…how I would never see him smile his dazzling smile at me again. It took me a few years to realize that I probably didn’t express my grief the conventional way because I probably didn’t even feel he was gone – I was living with him in my dreams and the sense of loss took longer to sink in.

From that day on every time I hear people gossip about so and so who didn’t cry at a loved one’s passing, I wonder – Who are they to judge someone’s grief? Should we mourn to please society or because the nature of the loss is so strong that you feel the need to express that pain - IN YOUR OWN WAY?

Note: Sorry this is such a long post…got a bit carried away and no amount of editing had the power to shrink it. And sorry about the un-original title...

It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived.” – Anon

The day I almost went to the slammer...

Out grocery shopping one day with my son in tow…as the trip drags, Nikhil starts to look like he has ants in his pants – the crisps have been eaten, the juice has been downed and watching the aisles of produce is no longer fun. He wants out of the shopping trolley and he wants it NOW! When my threatening looks and silent threats are ignored I let him out – and he makes a run for it…before I can catch him he bolts right out of the supermarket to some of those coin operated toys on the other side of the floor. Keeping him in my line of vision, I park my overflowing trolley to the side and try to catch the attention of the elusive customer service folks. As I explain my predicament to the CS guy, I see Nikhil happily playing on the coin operated Bob the Builder. A lady is leaning against the wall behind the toy deep in conversation with him. It appears that my son is giving her a full dissertation on some subject…probably some Bob the Builder episode. After the CS guy rolls my shopping cart away for safekeeping, I slowly walk over to where my son is, knowing that a meltdown about to happen. There is a toddler playing on truck nearby and her parents are clicking away at her ever-changing expression. The woman, who seemed to have become my son’s soul mate, patted him on the head and walked away. Nikhil sees me coming and pretends to ignore me. I walk up to him, fake smile and all and say HI…can we go home now? He ignores me and since I am running out of time, I grab him in a hug and try to get him out of his seat. The cheeky little fellow screams - Help, help, somebody… help me!! I have heard it all before so I ignore it. As I move away with this kicking kid in my arms, the mum of the kid playing on the truck nearby steps right up to me, her face inches from mine and ask in a loud voice – Can I help you? People stop and stare and I wonder if it is illegal to scold your kid in S’pore. I have no idea what her problem is, till I realize that she is looking around for the person who SHE thinks is the mother of my son. Of course the minute the lady is in my face; Nikhil's scared out of his wits and is now clinging to me with his face buried in my neck asking me to take him home. While I rub his back, I assure the lady that I am indeed the mother and this was just my son creating a scene. I thank her for being so vigilant and try to leave the scene as quickly as possible with a very subdued toddler in tow…

Moral of the story – If your kids don’t look like you, carry ID proof!

Anecdotes from Singapore

As I complete 3yrs in Singapore, I was thinking about a few funny and sometimes embarrassing incidents that happened to me here and thought I should put them down somewhere.

1.I had been in S'pore for about 2weeks, when my cooking gas got over. So I called my hubby at work and he told me there is a sticker on the cabinet door and asked me to call that number. So I did and the man asked me - "what condo-unit?"...it took me about 15mins to realize what he was saying and then had to embarrassingly tell him - I don't know...can I call u back?. I am sure he thought I was stupid. So I had to take the lift down, find out the name of my condo (imagine asking people- excuse me-what is the name of this condo; when you can actually standing inside it), the block number and also my unit number and call him back.


2.Another classic one was when I went for a walk with my son one afternoon after his lunch and came back to my condo only to realize I had forgotten my house keys at home, along with my phone and purse. And my condo had a private lift, so I couldn't even go up to my floor...Oh and did I mention I didn't know my husband's number? So I went to a market nearby, borrowed a dollar coin from a stranger, called my grandmother in India, got my husband's number from her quickly and cut the line before she could ask me anything else, then borrowed 20cents from another man, called my hubby and told him what happened. My husband got home as soon as he could, but left only after he gave me a huge lecture and wrote his number down on my son's stroller with a marker.


3.A blistering hot S'pore afternoon in the June of 2009. Was lazing around on the couch trying to watch a movie after demolishing a very heavy lunch. My then 2yr old was jumping up and down on the sofa beside me as usual, singing at the top of his voice. After a while he stopped jumping on the sofa and began waving and saying "Hi...nice to meet u"...I smiled at his imagination
After a few secs, he seemed to get irritated and shouted “Hi”...waving frantically...and then my heart stopped cuz from behind me came a deep male voice...."HI" it said. I still don't know how I did it, but in a sec I grabbed my son, jumped over the low table with my son's tennis bat in hand, facing "THE VOICE" - who turned out to be an innocent painter who had come to paint my balcony as a part of the whole condo painting venture. We are on the 8th floor so you can imagine my surprise to see a man standing on my balcony, long paint roller in hand. My couch faces away from the balcony and I had forgotten that I had left the sliding doors open to let in some air. The guy apologized profusely for scaring me, but I could see he was desp trying to hold back laughter. I must have looked a sight with my all powerful kiddie bat in hand out to slay the intruder.

Celebrating the wonder that is my MUM!!

Happened to chance upon a post by a lady on a social networking website. She was in an unhappy marriage and felt that divorce wasn’t an option for her so opted to end her life once her son was old enough to live without her. That set me thinking – Is there ever an age when one can live without a mother? I am 30 and am a mother myself and I still miss my mum even though she is just a phone call away. And I know my mum still calls my grandma when she is feeling down…mums are just an indispensable part of everyone’s life. I am not a very expressive person and my mum says she always feels that in terms of showing of affection, I lean more towards my dad than my mum. I must admit I am a bit partial (after all every dad is a hero in his daughter’s eyes), but I felt all that change once I became a mother myself. I had new admiration for my mum…I am in awe of the fact that she always had time to spend with me, cook the meals we liked and kept the house in pristine condition even though she worked full time. I never noticed her complain or express any sort of frustration at having to multi-task and be on top of her game all the time. She was is always bursting with energy and I have watched in awe when she would stay up all night watching my son and then rush about all morning making sure I was cared for during the day. And all this is done with her ever present smile on her face. Such selflessness can only come from a mother.
Although we are apart physically and see each other only once a year, I feel she is always there watching over me. Her motherly instinct has always surprised me. EVERY TIME I am depressed or feeling lonely and out of sorts, I know the phone will ring and it will be my mum. My harshest critic and ardent fan, her prayers and unshakable faith in me and nagging keep me going. Missing you a lot today and thought I should finally publish this long overdue post. You are ever in my thoughts and now I see you in my deeds too. Yes Ma…what I have feared has come true – I am turning into you…and it’s the best thing that could have happened to me.

The Ah-ha moment

Everyone talks about the AH-HA moment when everything falls into perspective and you feel you need to change your life around. Well mine was last Friday-at an indoor playground with my son. After being asked by son a million times to accompany him through the tunnels and up the swinging ropes and down the slides, I finally put my inhibitions aside and jumped right in. After about 15mins I was sweating buckets and feeling every muscle in my body. But I carried on as I didnt want to disspoint my little guy. After about 2 hours - my body just screaming at me to stop. It was like my body was telling me-there is a reason why people take baby steps while excercising. You don't sit on your butt for ages and then suddenly run a marathon and expect it to be cake walk. Ofcourse even after 5hours of non-stop play my 3year old was as energetic as ever.

Well needless to say I spent most of the weekend in bed or on the couch recovering from a bad back. That's when I knew I have had it. I can't be the lazy mum anymore-not when my son loves the active life. And as if I needed further motivation to step on the treadmill, my brother-in-law sent me his amazing transformation pics(the guy went from a size 40 to a size 34 jeans in less than a year-well done bro) and I knew this was a sign. If he can do it, then so can I.

So have decided to do the following and take "baby steps" towards a more healthy active life:

1. Stop eating like there is a famine around the corner...I can polish off a whole lot of food, and sometimes I am not even aware of it.

2. Will indulge in some icecream once a month, but otherwise sugar takes a back seat. Have to make myself believe I can have that ice cream once in a while.

3. The only way to lose my "ever pregnant" looking tummy is to eat right and do cardio. Apparently I can do all the sit ups in the world and without cardio it doesn't make any diff. So going to work out for an hour on a daily basis.

4. For every excuse I make to not excercise, I find one for why I should...and right now my most solid one is "for my son". It's diff to find one to top that-just yet.


Hopefully by March 2011, I will have reached my ideal weight.

Another New Year-Almost 3years later

I can't believe that after almost 3yrs I am still making the same resolutions and breaking them. It's like nothing changed in the past 3 years, well nothing except my age and lines on my face. How depressing is that!!!
I still reside in the same apt that I was in, in Dec 2007, still looking for some viable work-at-home options and still trying to lose weight. I wish I hadn't decided to start blogging again...Just reading my last post 3yrs back makes me feel like a failure.
Maybe I will start chronicling my random thoughts from tomorrow onwards. Feeling down in the dumps right now!!