CRAZY WEIGHT GAIN and how people react

I am an honest person to a large extent. And honesty compels me to admit that I have put on weight. Not put on weight like how Veronica Lodge gets onto the scales and screams “Daddy! I gained 5 pounds!” When I get onto my weighing scales, the scales scream “Daddy! Save me!”
So yes, the years of glorious food have been good to my taste buds and not to my figure and being an avid food blogger has not helped either. And whilst I wallow in self-pity and indulge in even more fat content boosting activities, I can’t help but notice how people around me react to my weight…each in their own irritatingly unique manner and almost always it isn’t pleasant! So the least I could do was put together a list of broad specimens and their reactions to fab flab!

1) Shoulder to chew on

Let’s start with positive stuff! This person is your best friend! Your sandwich buddy! This person
is the one who punches anyone who dares call you fat! The one who responds to your call for a
scoop of butterscotch ice cream with a family pack of butterscotch ice cream, complete with a
thick caramel swirl, dulce de leche sauce and no nuts because they know you in and out; all this
from your favorite ice cream store…well you get the drift. This person loves you no matter how
many scales you tip and how many seams you rip (see that little rhyme I made!?) and
considering the number of food joints you guys will be hitting together, the tipping and ripping
activity will be done together as well! But who cares! You two will roll around like two happy
little doughnut holes (and here I am talking about fat shamers!); on a glorious world that is the
most delicious unicorn grilled cheese sandwiches. (ok. I’m actually hungry now).

2) Empowerers and the Gimmes

This group consists mostly of women and they just want you to eat. In fact they urge you to eat
and be yourself to the point you eating out of sheer fright of disobeying them! I love being told
to be myself and to eat what I want and to do what I want but you know what? There are times
when I really am not humgry (I am human ok!) and even then the empowerers pounce and say
GIRL! If you want to eat you bloody well go and eat now! Get off your butt and go eat! Enjoy!
Celebrate! Don’t give a bleep! EATTTT! NOWWW! Gulp!
The Gimmes also try to make you feel good by saying stuff like "oh you're sooo lucky you have such huge boobies! You're huge bum is amazing! I wish you could transfer some of your weight to me! I'm sooo skinny!" Honey, I wish I could transfer all of it! Now shut up and eat that doughnut!

3) ASSumers

The ASSumers make me stare at them a lot. Mostly in disbelief and mostly because as the name
suggests, they assume a lot of things and they make complete ASSES of themselves. So
apparently because I am fat, I am assumed to have high cholesterol and PCOD and diabetes and
eating disorders and probably everything else assumable. “What? You have low BP? I thought
you were on medication for high BP”, “Oh my god! Pills for diabetes so early in life…oh they are
tic tacs huh? Hee hee” Like seriously how much more of an ass can you be? Atleast I don’t fall
into the same category as you…I don’t have to assume…I KNOW for a fact that you’re an ASS!

4) Jokeathons

Do the fat jokes never end? On one hand yes they are hilarious and rather brilliant but on the
other hand, have you seen your own face in the mirror? I’m happy that my rotundness has given
your life some meaning but dude seriously have you seen your face? Half the guys (I say guys
because it’s mostly guys who have made fun of my weight; girls have too but it’s mostly guys)
who make fun of weight have such obvious physical, emotional and mental flaws, they are
begging to be called out! And sometimes, I do call them out…and I sure am not subtle; thusly,
things get ugly and so I try to dish it out the least nastiest way I can because even that little bitty
burns like a man-o-war. Let me tell you this, I have so many yo mama jokes going on in my head
about you right now, Wilmer Valderrama would declare me god! Don’t mess with the fat girl
hon…spend your energy fixing that nasty burn instead!

5) The yesteryears

The world is black and white to these folks because boy! do they like to coddle themselves with
some good ol reminiscence. They behave like my life is some science fiction movie where my fat
future self has gone back in time and killed my skinny past so that a perfectly proportioned
present does not exist. I’m telling you they are one step away from telling me “come with me if
you want to live!” I mean they go and on about how thin I was when I was younger, how little I
ate, how much I used to work out, how I hated the words junk food…the list is endless. Ok
listen…this goes two ways. I can talk about how uncle used to have so much hair before or how
about aunty had such an unlined face or about how their daughter never used to date like it was going out of fashion or how their son never had only naked chicks on his mind. Do I do that? If the answer is no, then take A HINT!

6) Frenemies

Mind you I have a lot of these folks in my life. The kind of friends who pretend to be super sad
and upset that I am gaining weight but are secretly having “quinoa-blueberry-chia seed pudding
parties” celebrating my weight gain! They sit beside your sorry self, “soothing” and “calming”
your fat frazzled nerves saying “oh sweetheart! We’ll go running! We’ll start a diet! We’ll join a
gym” and the very next day the “WE” sends us a poster to an all you can eat buffet. Who does
that? Who does that? Frenemies that’s who! And I don't even want to talk about the back biting and bitch fest that happens "like oh my gawd, did you see how far she looked in that dress?" If you have an excess of this character in your life,
make like a plastic surgeon and cut them out!

7) Salescrows

Oh but I forgot about these creatures who are even worser than frenemies! The salescrows are
an abundant species hovering at just about every single clothing store. They stick their scary
sales butts right at the XS-S-M section, twist their face into a grimace, stretch out their arms
and scare away any plus size folks who would dare come anywhere near the teeny tiny clothing
crop! I once made the mistake of looking at a medium kurta at a well-known brand store and
the sales person all but call the security on me. Hey we fat people have dreams too you straw
filled idiot! Hope that stick up your butt stays in forever!

8) WTPGDT

Don’t let the name get you in a tizzy peeps, we have all met atleast one of this variety at any one
given point in our lives I assure you! Presenting , the Walking, Talking, Portable Gym and Diet Table. This person makes you do butt clenches while they force feed you a fat free leafy salad,
while make you pump a 2 litre bottle of water while doing sit ups while recording all that on
their fit bit while they do butt clenches along with! They are akin to sensor lights; the moment
you pass by they switch on and start reciting the exercise of the season or the best diet to follow
or start on butt clenches again…sigh! I know you’re trying to help and sometimes it works
because I too get into your crazy fervor and my pizza is left half uneaten and that rock that butt
clench…until you leave that is.

9) Kith, Kin- Kill

Relatives! You can’t live with them, you can’t bury them in a garbage heap without spending a
lot of time regretting jail. Your kin really know how to rub it in your faces because they know
what really gets to you! Like for example “remember that proposal that said no? It was because
you are fat!” blunt, “So many girl cousins to get married after you. Ingane vannam vechu irunnal
mathiyo?” blunt, “How did you get so fat? Look at our family pictures! You look bigger than the
aunties!” blunt! Does murder out of sheer rage count for self defence?

10) Mothers

- Hugging you out of affection but to check for fat afflictions
- Portion sizes that are inversely proportional to one’s body size
- Constant comparisons to every living creature that is thin (even animals) - Sharing fat woes to her close friends and your close friends
- Sharing your weight gain tales with the tailor
- Sharing weight gain tales with actually anyone
- Taking out your wedding clothes and sighing
- Refusing to stitch you any more clothes
- Then stitching you clothes that emphasize the weight (because well the poor thing tries to
cover up big huge me and it doesn’t work!)
 - Giving you the look

P.S if the look melted fat, I would have made a fortune times ten!

Types of people at funerals

Disclaimer: i understand that the topic may seem distasteful to some, but it is in no way intended to hurt or belittle anyone in any manner. I write this with anger and sadness having seen and experienced several such people myself.

We Mourn our loved ones during a funeral. We grieve, we take time to adjust ourselves to reality, we take in the emptiness and express our eternal love.
During this heart wrenching time, we find comfort and peace amongst some amazing family members and close friends.
BUT there are some individuals whose presence at such a solemn function i can never understand. Their behavior tends to disrupt, dishearten and cause intense despair to those in pain. I've segregated them into 8 misery inducing groups, read on:

1) The Storyteller

These are the kind of people who come riding into the house with a ton of stories about the deceased person and his/her relatives. It ranges from the lines of "I remember when i plucked a mango from that tree outside and gave it to him" and "oh she used to love playing in that tiny pond in the next field" and "He told me i was his favorite! I was his best friend! We did everything together" ok now you take a break and let me tell you a story, the relatives of your deceased friend would much appreciate your silent but hands on presence. Help out, comfort and most importantly, be quiet. Your stories not only disturb everyone around you, it evokes way too many memories that really doesn't help anyone at the time.

2) The Town crier

It really irks me when some distant relation (I'm talking brother's uncle's cousin's sister's father in laws sister's daughter) bursts into the funeral setting and starts wailing away to kingdom come. Beating her bosom, falling all over the grieving relatives, rolling all over the floor, throwing themselves at the body and just causing a right nonsensical scene while everyone just stares uncomfortably. In some cases, I've seen these people turn normal to greet someone and then go right back to the oscar performance. I don't even think they realize the mental agony they cause the close relatives of the deceased.
In such cases, the best thing to do is to escort the character to a room in the farthest corner and let them calm the heck down.

3) The Blackmailer

These are probably the worst kind of people alive. They are the ones who totally disfigure the memory of the deceased individual and use it to rake up a set of emotional blackmail sentences and throw it at the relatives (most often at the children). "It was your mother's dearest wish for you to give her a grandchild before she died", "your father wished for you to take over his business rather than follow your passion", "oh if only you had married the proposal i brought just like your mother wished" i mean what the! Don't these people with clay for brains even understand what they are saying? It's like the relay between brain and mouth that governs what to say when has shut down permanently; because if you can go to a funeral and make lives even more miserable, you certainly don't qualify to be called fully functional! In such cases, they should be taken to the same corner room and asked to zip it or leave.

4) The Chatterbox

And then there is that person who keeps chattering on the phone,  giving live updates about the funeral and everything that's happening around. "Yes the pandit just came in...he is sitting down...he has started the pooja...aunty so and so just walked in...she is wailing...yes she is wearing make up..." i mean seriously? You happen to be at a funeral person-with-cellphone not at a sports show, the least you can do is show some respect. And person-on-the-line, if you don't have the care or concern to attend the function, then steer clear of even asking about it. Walk up to this phone happy character and ask him/her to shut off the phone and behave with respect.

5) The Black hole 

This individual is a walking human black hole. It's amazing how they can suck even the smallest ray of hope and positivity into their dark, dank self and mutate it to form horrendous negative statements that cling onto the pysche for a long time to come!
"Oh my god...i don't know how you guys are going to survive", "such things happen when you're too happy about life", "has he left you any money to tide you over?", "i knew this would happen! I told him not to drink so much!"
Sometimes i feel like going up to such people and asking them if they have an itch they cannot reach. Why else would they do this at such a horrible time in someone's life? So here's a joke for you..."knock knock", "who's there", "shut up and keep your opinions to yourself"

6) The Socializer

I have seen this happen at so many funerals. I feel such pain for the relatives who have lost a precious part of their lives and amidst all the grief, there are those who treat it as an opportunity to have a reunion! "Ah hallo! Long time no see!" "How's your son? How's your daughter", "are they married? No? Don't worry i have the perfect boy for her! See that handsome young man sitting in the corner? What a catch!" Oh dear lord stop! There is a death in the family and you treat it like the theme for a high school renuion or a F.R.I.E.N.D.S season 11? Get out of that house and go sit in a cafe coffee day or something.

7) The Goody two shoes

This person is the exact opposite of the black hole. It is not bad to be nice but sweet to the point of not giving any personal space to grieve is suffocating! Your presence is welcome initially because you do all the right things. You offer strength and support, you lend a helping hand and you're always with those who need you. After a point however, you lose your sense of personal space and excessive sweetness does nothing but make the situation totally diabetic in nature. Those who grieve need time alone to get in touch with reality. These saccharine characters try to force feed the mourning happiness and that just does not work. Calling them out for dinners and get togethers ( after a few days) or lets say calling them non stop...after a point, becomes a pain. So back up a little. Be your sweet self but give a little room to heal as well.

8) The Complaint box

I end with the second worst people on the list; those who attend funerals to complain. "Just look at the tacky flowers he ordered", "such a second rate coffin", "honestly, she could have given him a better burial", "I'm so thirsty! They didn't bother keeping some water handy", "i can't even believe they booked that church". Excuse me? Who made you queen/ king of the world?
Instead of trying to console the grieving, they sit around and ridicule everything in sight and what's worse, they even say horrid things about the deceased! Oh wow! I have once overheard (not difficult at all since they had all the grace of two foghorns) two ladies next to me say "yeah he was never a good man...his wife hated him...seems he had an affair..." seriously? Seriously? Why don't you just head on back home, switch on some serials and get up to date with some drama and gossip there?

The next time you see someone that fits the above mentioned categories at a funeral, let them know that their behavior is not appreciated in the least. I have done it a couple of times and despite angry, unbelieving stares, the message gets across.

Why i HATE shopping

I hate shopping. Coming from a woman, I know it sounds absolutely absurd but this is the in-your-face truth. I hate shopping. Ok ok more specifically I (more than hate) DREAD shopping with my mum.
Now that I have learnt how to drive and proclaimed by all to be a good enough driver, I have been promoted to the status of being my mum's official chauffer. My sister's wedding preparations are underway and there is absolutely no room to breathe. Half the time we hit the city with bundles of dresses and materials to be stitched, huge agendas and a 10 month old who bawls away for no reason.
Preparation for a day of shopping happens the previous night itself when my mum comes into my bedroom armed with jewellery designs, a towering pile of materials, sample cards and a stress ridden face that promptly proclaims that we have absolutely no time and so much to do.
So we sit and put together an extensive list of what time we need to leave, the shops we need to hit and how much time to spend in each shop.
This was the list we put together two nights back:

11:00 Leave home
11:45 Reach Convent Junction
           Head over to S designs
           Hit Goodwill
1:00   Lunch
1:30  Go to M.G.Road
          Visit Milan
          Alappat Heritage showroom
4:30  A quick coffee and head home

I am super proud of my organizational skills and i must say, i am equally proud of my mum who never manages to adhere to a single one of my lists.
It's not that she doesn't try folks. It's just that the pull of shopping always wins hands down.

So there i was driving and reminding my mum over and over again about the importance of sticking to the list. Uh-huh she goes. Definitely she says. Absolutely she nods.
I think of the many,many miracles performed by Jesus and give myself hope for a miracle atleast this time around.

So we reach the city. I park while my mum takes my son in his walker and the mountains of bags out of the car. I ask her specifically to wait for me outside S desgins; that we would go in together. Specifically. Outside. S designs.
I park and come around and of course no sign of my mum, my son or the mountain of bags. Assuming she went into S design, i rush in climb their three floors approximately 3 times in a vain search, finally give up and come outside panting and see her happily strolling out from the adjoining clothing store.

"Oooh! There was a lovely sale here! Look at the material i found! Lucky i went it!"
"Amma i asked you to wait outside! I was running around trying to find you!"
But my rolling eyes and gasping complaints were silenced by her quick disappearing act. She was already browsing through the stuff in S designs by the time i finished the first sentence. Ah well! Atleast she was in S designs.
It is 12 and we were still at S designs. My mum is ransacking their shelves for a special colour. She was looking for a purple that is not the colour of a brinjal or a plum. "Something in between she keeps saying" rummaging through their selection of purple material. "Is that all the purple you have?", "Show me some more", "Do you have this in georgette?" The questions go on and the staff begins to look more and more surly. Somehow her search from purple moves on to reds, blues, greens, yellows; infact every colour under the spectrum except purple. When one chimes on a store clock i am in absolute awe at all the sans purple material my mum has managed to dig out. I tug at her salwaar rather frantically telling her we have lots of work to do.
"Yes! Yes!" She says and shrugs me off, promptly moving to the sarees section. Lord knows for what though! I ask her the question and she goes on about how they would be functions AFTER the wedding for which she needed to prepared. After people, after!
By 2:00 pm, i managed to tear her from the store (no she didn't get the perfect purple) and shove her into Goodwill.
By this time my son has woken up and after a feed, starts crawling all over the place. I keep a steady jog ignoring the steely looks from ladies who i bump into and whose feet i stamp in the vain attempt to keep up with my son on an absolute hyper mode!
My mum shifts from earrings to necklaces to make up to bags to wigs (yes wigs! And though she had perfectly good hair, bought a hair piece that looked like the tail off a petrified squirrel! Inspite of the bickering she put her foot down and said she was going to wear it but on the wedding day, she could not find it. She never will. Not where my sister and me hid it on her! ;)) to bracelets to plastic flowers to lord knows what else at an equally hyperactive mode.
By 2:30, i literally screamed for food. "Feed me! Feed me!" I screamed! My son screamed along with me as it amused him so!
Without taking her eyes off a pair of glittering earrings, she asked me to grab a bite. When i ask her if she didn't want to eat, she didn't even hear me! I swear the essence that comes off clothing and accessory stores is purely what sustains her. I mean the woman goes a whole day without food or water while shopping. How is that even remotely possible???

Anyway so i eat at the speed of light (i usually eat at the speed of sound) and then ran up to see my mum still holding up and examining the SAME pair of earrings she was holding half an hour back. What? Heh? What in the world i ask her! And she says she is checking if the purple in the earrings is the same elusive purple she was hunting the world for. Oy ve!

At 4, we head on over to Milan. I sit in one corner my hair in my fists as my son makes tents out of the mountains of purple my mother pulls out of the stacks. A sales lady seeing my helpless situation, brings me a cup of coffee and a side of sympathy.   Again the rainbow charade happens when from purple my mum moves through a kaleidoscope of colours not one bit related to the wedding theme.
I am just about ready to book myself out when the miracle of the century happens! "They have nothing i want here" my announces annoyed and giving the sales people a hawk like look she sweeps out of the store. It takes me a while to register that we were done with material shopping for one day! I almost cried with happiness. Then i cried with utter disappointment! We still had Jewellery hunting to wrap up!
By 6, the burger in my tummy has said bye bye and the internal organs eagerly wait for a new friend to digest. I have tried on half the jewellery in the store and yet my mum does not find the exact one she is looking for (surprise!) What surprised me even more that even after hours of staring at bling non stop, she still has eagle eyes! (For eg: the 30° bend on one petal on the 16th flower in this necklace is off by one degree type eagle eyes!) I on the other hand was ready to do a Charles Ray for life.
By the time we get home, my mum is brimming with happiness and absolutely full from the thrill of the hunt. I felt kidnapped, tortured and starved. I drag myself home, bathe and feed my son, bath and feed myself and throw myself onto my bed for a night of complete blackout.
But no! In marches the hunter with another set of lists for tomorrow. I cried. 

Keeping up with the CRAWLashians

image source: pinterest

When my son turned a few months old, I prayed he would start crawling; because my arms screamed from carrying him around all the time. Now that he has started crawling, I dearly wish I could carry him again! My son doesn’t stay put in my arms anymore! It’s like the moment he sees a floor or any surface humanly possible to crawl on; he turns into the North Pole and the floor the South! Why, he is solely responsible for the sparkly clean floors in most of the shopping centres in my city!

Ok! Maybe that was taking things a bit too far and not to toot my own horn or anything but this little fella can crawl! He quite resembles a junior flash on an extreme glucose high!! One major plus that this has brought about is that I’ve managed to lose some post baby poundage and no one’s complaining. The major setback however is how careful we have to be at this stage. Take your eyes off for just a second and I literally mean a second and all hell can break loose! Expensive pottery would be in pieces all over the floor, the baby might fall and bump his head, people could trip over the baby and get hurt (been there, done that)…the list is exhaustive. Over time I have learnt to be a lot more cautious. Once I understood his crawl routine (yes, babies have one!) it was a lot easier to multi task and to safeguard him from bumps and falls.

Here’s my take on what to do when, how, why your little person turns into a CRAWLashian:

=) Insure expensive things yourself

The moment your baby starts showing an amazing aptitude for reaching out and grabbing only the most delicate and expensive items around the house, that’s the time to start “insuring”. In parenting terms (one I just made up actually) it means keeping breakables out of reach. Chuck keeping the house all decorated and gorgeous out the window and start placing all those delicate vases, glass jars and the like out of reach.

And whatever you do, do not encourage your baby to throw things off your vanity table. There is a high chance he will repeat the behaviour elsewhere and not everyone is as compromising or adjustable as you or your immediate family. My mum has been over indulgent and allows my son to wreck absolute havoc with the jars, bottles and tubes on her vanity table. I promptly pull him away but the very next day over indulgent granny and stupendously happy grandchild can be seen back at the scene of the crime! Sigh!

=) Stock up on barrier gates

One must encourage ones baby to explore; BUT there are some places that should be kept strictly off limits; like say stairs, the kitchen, the bathroom and others. This practice must be encouraged until your child is old enough to understand the purpose of a barrier. Once my baby started crawling, he grew tired of the places that I let him explore and was soon rushing to climb up and down the stairs, he made a disgusting habit of crawling into the bathroom and lying down on the wet rug and sweeping clean the floors of the kitchen. I promptly placed wooden barricades that were chin high. The most he could do is stand up, hold onto the barrier and peep in. He seems satisfied with that…for the time being.

=) Keep him at eye levels

I had this idiotic notion in my head when my son started crawling: “He can’t get far or get hurt…after all he JUST crawls!” Boy! Was I ever wrong! Trust me when I tell you this; this is no defined capability quotient when it comes to the heights a crawling baby can reach. I once had an urgent call coming in and I picked up my cell phone in the next room. When I came back 3 minutes later, my 10 month old son had climbed the bed, clambered over to the couch and stood like a conquering hero on the head of the couch; happily swatting a fly on the windowsill. I almost needed diapers myself that moment. Ever since then I have never, ever let him out of my sight. Always make sure that your baby in within your eye sight. Don’t take a breather thinking “ok, let him sit around the corner playing. I’ll check on him in a bit.” Bad move mama. The closer you are to him the better!

=) Inform his routine to anyone who looks after him

There are of course times when you need to leave your baby under someone’s care for a little while. First off, make sure that you leave your child with ONLY trustworthy relatives, friends or help. Secondly, do not fail to let them in on your child’s crawl routine. There may be some places he prefers playing in, some places that are hazardous, places he throws toys into, the route he takes from one spot to the next. Awareness is key here. Your child shouldn’t take the person looking after him by surprise. He/she should also be clued enough to stop or encourage the child crawling to specific areas. This in effect would be a major relief for you as well as a lot of mishaps can be prevented and explanations of “I didn’t know!”, “Why didn’t you tell me?” can be avoided.

=) Give him a taste of adventure

Having said all this, I advise you to do not over restrict your baby, as it not only will affect his progress from crawling to walking, it would also thwart his natural instinct to explore. When he crawls into a new, permissible space, be with him throughout. Make sure he is within your reach at all times.

Of course babies will bump their heads or get stuck. This is an important way of learning. There are some things that cannot be taught, but rather learnt. I had a lot of trouble trying to get my son to stop crawling under a low table to retrieve his ball. After days of saying no, coaxing him, distracting him and pulling him away, I gave in and let him crawl underneath. He bumped his head lightly and an important lesson was learnt that day. He has to this day not attempted to crawl under that table again. If his ball does roll under it, he just sits there, looks at me and points at the ball. Sometimes you just have to let them learn from their mistakes (*this does not mean you sit back and relax if he goes rushing toward the stairs!)

=) Scrub-a-dub-dub

I cannot even stress the importance of cleanliness at this stage. Babies develop differently, however, they have one freakishly similar habit: open mouth, insert dirty foot, hands and basically anything off the floor. That is why you always need to scrub clean his hands, knees, feet and face with baby soap and a soft cloth after every crawl session. Using warm, soapy water is ideal. If you are outside, keep baby wet wipes with antibacterial properties handy. A change of clothes or two is an absolute must when away from home. Obviously we have no control over cleanliness of floors or crawl spaces when we leave our homes, but we do have the control of the same while at home. Make sure your floors and in fact every space your baby crawls on is dust and dirt free. A lot of allergies and diseases start right from home!

=) Mama’s Pet

Speaking of allergies, crawling babies and pets are kind of like chalk and cheese. Say what you want about how friendly your pets are, how clean they are and how much they love the baby; at the end of the day It all comes down to the health of your child. I always make sure that my pets are separated from my baby while he crawls around. I simply close the barricade, wipe the floors clean and leave the baby to play with his toys while my pet goes about his business on the other side of the room. Free interaction with my pet will be allowed only after a few years, till then I am keeping him away from fur, fangs and saliva.

All the best to all those mamas who have CRAWLashians in their homes. Ladies, I feel you! And if you think this is tough…wait till he starts walking! Sigh!

A Bus Ride

Today, after a gap of more than 10 years, I boarded a bus.
It was more out of whim than  necessity and for some reason I missed travelling in that red box on wheels. I decided right then and there to pay my college days, replete with one a million bus rides a visit.

Maybe things had changed I foolishly hoped! Maybe things were better with buses in Cochin I thought chucking aside the newspaper article I had read through that very morning about a gruesome bus accident.
So I walk over to the bus stop prepared for a long wait. And when I say the bus stop was crowded, I mean crowded like a 5 for 1 sale! And some how I was pushed into the midst of it all! Since I am blessed with incredibly short legs, I could hardly see the name boards of the buses flying past. I somehow managed to push past a rather touchy feely crowd only to see bus headed to Fort Cochin whiz past me!

"Eeeeyyy!" I yelled total malluness taking over! A group of wannabe commuters also yelled the same. The super bus driver with his supersonic hearing power stopped the bus almost a mile away from the stop. And then my worst nightmare happened. People started running toward the bus. I had to run as well else I would have a really long wait ahead of me. I don't have an ounce of sports blood in me. I run like the offspring of a sloth combined with that of a seal. Yes, you can imagine the grace. Braving the mouth opened stares I ran or gallopped or whatever it is that sealsloths do full post pregnancy weight and all, all the way to the waiting bus.
The moment my foot made contact with the footboard the anorexic little rat of a conductor clanked the bell and super driver started driving pretty much like the Knight bus in Harry potter. Thanks to two aunties who grabbed hold of me I managed to not become a smashed cutlet on the road.

Of course there was no space in the bus. My favorite place to stand was the space right behind the driver. that way I was away from the sweaty, sticky, pushy crowd and of course away from the perverts who enter buses wondering what to do next with their privates. And of course luck wasn't a lady right then as my favorite space waa occupied by 4 mega brats who were playing a game of "how to annoy the driver enough so that he crashes!

I was crushed right into the middle of the bus. I really didn't have to hold into anything either. The thick crowd had me bolstered in nice and tight. Into this can of sardines, the rat conductor tried to pummel through. Using me as a pole he leaned on giving everyone tickets. "Hello Chetta! Move!" I said. He pretended not to hear me and actually stomped on my foot while passing me my ticket! Even before I could react the rat had melted into the crowd at back of the bus.
Suddenly I felt faint. There was a sickening smell right near my face. Thank god I didn't turn fully. I would have driven myself face first into a super sweaty armpit! A lady had managed to wedge her arm on my shoulder and swing her armpit near my face and even worse my nose! Lord help me!

Right at that moment heaven appeared! My favorite space was free. I would have made any high jump record holder proud the way I jumped through the crowd and grabbed that spot. And then it was bliss. I plugged in my ear phones and smiled when the wind tousled my hair. I took a trip back to my college days when travelling by bus was routine and so much fun! I gazed at houses,trees and traffic rushing past, lost in yesteryear.

Soon I reached my stop. Oh yes! I gave the conductor exactly was he deserved. The rat was standing near the door. He had on chappals when he stomped my foot. I had on wedge heels!

Hello Outside World!

It's been months since you've seen the outside world. You've become so pale you've started resembling Bella from The Twilight series. You so badly long for a glimpse of what's happening beyond the four walls of the house that you keep your face plastered to the window and even a bird flying past fills you with crazy happiness!

Welcome to the world of the "first months after delivery". I'm thankfully past this phase and trust me when I say I I do not want to go back there again! Spending time with my little guy was fun but sometimes depressions sets in because every single day it was the same house, same room, same walls and same faces. Initially it doesn't seem so bad but after 3 months it becomes the worst sort of hell ever!
But then all of a sudden 4 months are over and everyone decides to take you and the baby for dinner OUTSIDE THE HOUSE. Happy? Yes, well here's a little secret. What you are about to face is the worst, more horrible nightmare ever! You'd never know what to expect. You'd never know what's going to happen.

I was super thrilled for our first outing and I was even more thrilled to reach back home! It was a total disaster. Everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong that day and by the time we reached back home all I wanted to do was turn back time and pretend like those 3 hours never happened! But then we did go out a few more times. Each time was a learning. Now I am a lot more prepared and I wanted to pass on some wisdom to all new mamas out there. These points come straight from personal experience. So here we go, tips on how to stay sane during outings ( especially dinner outings).

1) Take even the kitchen sink

The saying "everything but the kitchen sink" does apply here. For your first outings, take everything you feel your baby remotely needs. Anything and everything. Yes you will look like you've packed for a one way ticket to the moon but that's ok. After the first few outings you can slowly leave behind things you don't use much. And please pack your baby bag beforehand; not right when you leave. Chances are you will forget the most important things like diapers!

2) Strength in numbers

Planning to a romantic dinner with the hubby? With the baby and just you two around that is NOT going to happen. I know of a friend who spent her anniversary dinner with her husband taking turns holding the baby and eating dinner one at a time. Unless your baby sleeps throughout the dinner you can be rest assured that turns will be taken.
So even if your romantic bubble is busted, take a couple of trusted family members or friends with you. A group outing is best until you learn the ropes on how best to handle the baby on your own during outings.

3) The 10 minute dinner

Always be prepared to leave within the first half hour of entering the restaurant. You'd never know what could happen. The baby might scream away to Kingdom come. The baby might fall really sick and throw up all over. You might be totally uncomfortable in the restaurant. Whatever the pressing reason, always be prepared to run!

4) Snack and go

Which brings me to my 4th point. Always have a light, healthy snack before you leave the house. For my 1st outing,the baby cried so much we had to leave before we could eat anything and grabbing a take out burger on the way was the only option! So prepare yourself a nice snack before you leave for the restaurant. It really helps.

5) Dress appropriately

First outing and you want to look all flashy despite the post prenancy weight. Feeling good is great but not at the risk of complete inaccessibility. You need to be breast feed ready. What you wear should be such that you can easily lift or unbutton without having to wrestle. I made the mistake of wearing a tight salwaar for my 1st outing. With the baby screaming, me sweating and the salwaar sticking like a body suit to my flabby self I almost had to rip it in two just to get my baby to breast feed. You do not want to go there!

6) Call in advance

Make sure you call the restaurant in advance and let them know about your requirements. A crib or bassinet, a quiet corner of the restaurant for seating, a breast feeding area. Do not jump in and surprise them. The restaurant management would also appreciate the heads up and you would have ease of mind as well.

7) Quick bites

Make sure you order food that is easy to eat. Nothing that soils the hands and nothing that needs both ur hands occupied. Steaks and super saucy dishes are out of the question. Order something light and easy to spear using a fork would be best. Make sure you always have your hands clean and relatively free throughout the meal so that you can pick up your baby the moment he starts wailing.

8) Keep at it

And finally, do not give up! Sure even if your first outing was a disaster just keep at it! Things will slowly but surely start getting better; you would fall into rhythm and start enjoying yourself. So not stop trying!

Happy 1st outing ladies!

I spy with my 8 eyes!

Insects and I share a love-hate relationship that leans particularly toward the hate. Not all insects though. I love brilliant butterflies and wee lady bugs; most insects don't bother me but of course there are specific exeptions. Like say a stinky cockroach or a horrendous spider or those nasty insects that stick like glue to night lights! Shudder fest indeed!
I don't even know where and when I developed a fear of spiders and cockroaches. It's like I see either one and my body goes into auto shut down. The insect stares at me and I stare back at the insect. My brain goes on hyperventilation mode, begging my feet to move, shake, lift, tap dance... anything! But nah! My body remains steadfastly rooted to the spot. The only things that move are my eyes. Watching the insects every darn move.

Once a typical cowboy styled showdown happened between me and a cockroach. There he was right between me and the front door/escape route. I stared at the cockroach, the cockroach stared back at me. A background score of "The good, the bad and the ugly" played and we just stared and stared. I blinked! Seizing that moment of weakness the blasted creature flew into my open hair! I had pretty big hair back then and it had the amazing ability to behave like a black hole at times. I screamed bloody murder, scratched and clawed at my head, jumping around like my pants were on fire...but to no avail! The black hole had triumphed again! But no! Lo and behold! Out staggered the cockroach completely disoriented, so disoriented it couldn't even fly. I kid you not when I tell you, even a few minutes in my hair and even a boy scout with a compass would get lost!

And don't even get me started on the time I was stalked by a cockroach. I did start anyway...so one night I was home alone studying for my boards. There I sat trying to jam physics theories into my head when I heard a flutter en I heard a flutter of gauzy wings. A glance around revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Back to physics. The flutter came again. A little nearer this time. I look down and almost died. At my feet sat the fatest, most ugliest, most disgusting looking cockroach I have ever clapped my horrified eyes on! I don't have an ounce of sports in my veins but the way I ran that day, P.T.Usha would have gladly handed over all her medals to me! So I ran upstairs and peeped down. To my horror the fiend from hell was lazily making its way up toward me!! I bolted for my bedroom and jumped under the covers, not even daring to switch on the lights lest it saw me! 10 mins of silence later I slowly slide off the covers and switch on the lights.  By the name of everything unholy!! I can't even tell you what happened next! I can't! I can't! Ok fine i shall! The cretin sat on the covers! The covers that were on my head moments ago!! I screamed all the way down only to see it flying down along with me!! If that is not stalking then you and I have different dictionaries! Thankfully my parents came home right then and my mum went total terminator on that stalker! Phew! I did sleep with one eye open that night!

Spiders are no cuter! I can handle the teensy ones. But those hideous, huge black ones that hide in bookshelfs and kitchen cabinets? Yeah now those are monsters! Even worse is when they scuttle around carrying their bulbous egg sac! Might as well book me into a psych ward right then and there! My mum has a Phd in pulverizing these 8 legged freaks, while I have a Phd in screaming my throat raw when I see them. Hey I am the greatest spider alarm system in the world ok!

So this one time I used the guest bathroom, reading on the throne. I happened to look up laughing at a joke in the book and there it sat on the wall right in front of me. My laugh turned into curdled whimpering and I sat frozen on the closet! I just sat there doing nothing. Again a long staring session happens. Finally I manage to wash up and run out the bathroom screaming! "Where is it? Where is it?" My mum comes in screaming armed with a broom. "Agagabbanabaa" is all I could muster. My mum is about to make his way into the bathroom when my dad brushes her aside and says he will handle it! "Oh no!" I think. Entire squadrons of spiders owe their lives to my dads bumbling interference. My dad rushes into the bathroom and promptly chases it behind the mirror! Thanks dad! "Everything is fine!" He cheerfully says " it went behind the mirror and it will go off on its own!" And off he went humming a happy tune! My mum sighs and goes in and out within 5 mins, dead shrivelled spider in the dustpan. The bloody thing was carrying an egg and that had broken as well. I don't even want to describe what I saw! It scarred me for life!!

My mums promised me lessons in arming myself against these creatures. All that's come out of it is that my screaming got better and from the pitch and tempo, my mum can actually tell if it is a spider or a cockroach that is scaring me to death!

If I can cook...so can you!

I love cooking and off late, cooking loves me right back. But this was not always the case. As I stir a big pot of sweet corn chicken soup I think back to my first cooking attempt and cringe. In all honesty, i have to admit that my mum has a constant toothache from having ground her teeth so much at me and all my fabulous kitchen disasters! Despite all the setbacks, the cheerleader in me kept saying rah-rah-raise hell in the kitchen!

I've managed to make maggie magically stick (and )permanently to a pan, coated the entire stove top with fresh, frothy boiled over milk, heated a curry till all that was left was charcoal and the piece' de resistance? Pulling the whistle off a fully loaded pressure cooker, sending curry on a mission to mars. So yes, I wasn't a welcome sight in the kitchen. But would I give up? No way! I promised my mum I would stay off the stove and stick to "simpler", "easier" things like slicing and dicing.
Simple I said! Easy i believed! 8 sliced open fingers, both palms almost shredded on the slicer and a real bad case of garlic allergy later I was sent off packing and adviced to READ through cookbooks, enjoy the pictures, salivate and use only my imagination to cook.

I know my mum and aunts heaved sighs of utter despair wondering what levels of food poisoning I would subject my future husband to. "Would she able to even boil water?" Asked one aunt, "her Husband's salary will all be spent on takaway" quipped another, all the while my mum clucked her tongue, shook her head and vowed to brave the kitchen exploding and teach me some basics (starting with boiling water). Well she was never able to give me any proper lessons because for some reason extremely slow chopping of onions, constant dropping of the knife and spacing out amidst the chopping seemed to bother her! I wonder why?

All through college I ate my mum's food and never cast so much as a shadow in the kitchen. Then came Chennai. Right after my post graduation I was hired by a renouned media group in Chennai. Excitement was aflow which quickly ebbed when bugets and cash crimping set in. So take out every day was out of the question. That's when my roomies and I decided to cook. Our first officially home made meal? Rice and a mixed veggie curry (which took all of 5 people to make!!) And it was the most  delicious dish we ever ate! I guess the fruits of hard labor (it was to us first timers anyway!) Are indeed yum!
Then the five of us split into twos and singles. My friend Jewel and I were roomies and foodies and we got along well that way! Slowly we eased ourselves into cooking. This time we were cooking for survival. Rice became less and less gloggy, curries finally shifted from the constant potato masala and dal to bindi, cauliflower, brinjal and others. In a couple of months,we entered the sacred territory of non vegetarian cooking. Needless to say I burnt my first batch of chicken curry, served up raw fish curry and made prawns so spicy I almost emptied a fire extinguisher down my throat. But yes, we got the hang of it in a while. We quickly moved to trying out various cuisines and with pachakam.com (our trusty mallu online recipe portal sidekick) it was a breeze. From mughlai to chinese, chettinad to Italian we did it all and we experimented on some of our very "lucky" colleagues. They were not disappointed or poisoned so yay! We were good to go.

Back home. I made my mum coffee. She drank it...fully! I made honey chicken and people ate it happily, I made pasta and my cousins gobbled it up. The biggest honor? My mum asking me for tastes and improvements in her curries! I think I finally arrived! In my eyes anyway and just when I think I am a major masterchef, I go and burn milk into a dish. Vicious cycle this!

Prawn Curry

Mixed veg and egg noodles

Honey chicken

Good ol chilly chicken

Hair Scare

Photo courtesy: healthzillion.com

Remember that period during our pregnancy when our hair and skin start looking great? That time when everyone keeps fawning over how our skin glows and our hair looks so thick and shiny? And we felt so beautiful it almost seemed like a dream? Now, what is the one thing about dreams that we all hate? Yes, sooner or later we all have to wake up to reality!

My reality came crashing down on me 3 months after my delivery and let me tell you, it wasn't pretty.
My mum had the baby room done up in blue and white with white sheets and blue edged pillows.
One morning on the start of my babys 4th month I woke up resembling an Oak tree in Autumn! Black squiggles of hair covered my white pillow cover and while shampooing my hair, I ran my fingers through it to find clumps of it coming clean off! I almost screamed out loud! Well, I did actually and my mum came running in to find me sitting on the throne bawling "I'm going bald!"

Here is the simple reason as to why we must give up our glorious mane post pregnancy: HORMONES! During pregnancy our body pumps itself full of pregnancy hormones which drastically reduces hairfall and once our little person is out, our body slowly gets the hormone levels back to normal. So basically post partum hairloss is all a result of peaked hormone levels returning to normalcy.

So the thick, gorgeous mane we grew will soon be shed and in copious amounts as well! But do not freak out like how I did because this is normal. In fact more than 50% of women have this so you're not alone! We get you! And not to fear! You will not go bald. In case you feel your hairfall hasn't reduced even after a year, then you need to consult your gyneac.

In the meantime here are some tips on minimizing hairfall that I personally found to be quite useful:

1) Be a gentle mistress

A lot of us love hairstyles so severe it looks like we've had a facelift done. This is a strict no no. Your hair is extremely fragile and dropping like crazy so trying out tightly bound hairstyles is kind of like adding fuel to the fire. So let your hair roots relax. Though a tight bun seems most comfortable while looking after your baby, I would suggest a really loose braid. Not only will you look really nice, you would also be giving your hair roots a teeny vacation as well!

2) Chemical factory alert

Hygiene is crucial during this time. Do shampoo and condition your hair. However, it is best to avoid shampoos with a high chemical content. Opt for milder shampoos and conditioners. Do not keep shampoo lather in your hair for long and steer clear of the roots while conditioning. Go natural and you can see a visible difference in your hairfall.

3) Oil and how

Oh my god! I cannot stress the importance of oil enough! I suggest applying warm almond oil right onto the scalp every alternate day. Leave on for 15-20 minutes, massage gently and shampoo lightly. I saw a visible reduction in hairfall after I started oiling my roots.

4) Trim away

We love our long hair, yes we do; but scanty long hair? Nah! Go to a good hairdresser and get a fab haircut. Short is good post pregnancy. Not only will your hair be easier to handle, trimmimg away your split ends will really help reduce the amount of hair you lose.

5) Crush the crash

Heard enough fat jokes post pregnancy? Well you need to just play deaf to all the taunters and go slow with the weight loss. A lot of water weight will go off on its own and with your baby becoming more and more active you will slowly but surely get your body back.

But whatever you do, PLEASE do not crash diet! One, you will be breast feeding and your baby needs all the nutrients it can get. And two, you need to sustain your health, because whatever nutrients you eat is being shared with your baby.

What you can do is cut off fried, fatty and extremely sugary foods from your diet and go fresh and healthy. Do snack once in a while and start a healthy diet (definitely not crash) only after your baby has adjusted to solids.
Sufficient nutrient intake is absolutely necessary for hair growth. If you do not provide your body with enough, you will not only lose your accumulated hair, you would also prevent new hair from sprouting. So load up on protein, iron and calcium rich foods. Do talk to your gyneac about taking Vit E and Vit D3 supplements. They make a world of difference.

6) Stress Buster

Post pregnancy period is no piece of cake. As a new mum I totally get where the stress is coming from. I have gone for days without sleep and without a moment to myself. Some days I feel so angry, irritated and stressed out that I could tear a telephone book in half. We've all been there I am sure. First off, take a deep breath, calm down and refer my very first article Whoaaa New Mama! which was written especially keeping new mums in mind.

I was extremely worried initially but now I'm fine because hallelujah! I see tiny hairs sprouting. I suppose we will all get our head of hair back to normal by the time our babies are a year old :) so just hang in there and stay happy happy!

POO to YOU!

First off, this is a statutory warning to those who are easily repulsed. This piece is not pretty. It takes permanent residence on 21^st Disgusting Street and this could probably have something to do with the fact that THIS piece, is about POO.

Ok so most of you who know me well must surely be wondering whether my lost marbles have turned up at the lost and found. And of all the wonderful topics in the world to write about, why oh! Why is she writing about poo you wonder?? Well let me tell you this, once you enter the realms of motherhood, shame takes a flying leap out the window! I mean come on! Months of being prodded and poked by random doctors and having exposed ones nether region to more random doctors and nurses one is left with just one question in mind: “Shame? What’s that?”

Anyway, poo is something that I have been terrified of ever since I was a kid. Yes, yes I know poo won’t jump up and attack me out of the potty but somewhere, sometime, something about poo must have terrified the hell out of me. I still don’t know what it is, my mum wouldn’t tell me and since I have an overactive imagination (courtesy far too many horror movies) I keep dreaming up the worst case scenarios possible, some too gruesome to even explain! My fear goes to the extent of swooning fits every time I need to wash up (but I do so somehow with gritted teeth and squinted eyes; followed by a long wash up regime much like Lady Macbeth!). Whenever I get food poisoning, my mum has the most horrid time in the world and I needn’t even bother explaining how! And now, how the tables have turned!

So there I was pregnant and super happy; all rainbows and hearts about my baby. I kept going on and on about how I was going to bathe him, pretty him up and make him wear nice clothes when my evil sibling of a sister pointed out an obvious fact that my mind just kept ignoring. “What about his poo? You know the baby can’t possibly clean himself!” and she smiles this wicked smile and my rainbow takes on 50 shades of Grey! Sinister being this girl! I further ignored her taunts and keep thinking only positive thoughts of crossing the poo bridge when I got to it. My water broke the next morning.

Thankfully I had my mum and a ton of relatives stay at the hospital and look after the cleanup of the baby while I had to just be a human milk bottle. We were home in a week and then began my never ending nightmare with poo! My mum and I struck a deal. She would handle the poopies while I handled the peepees. Well basically in grown up talk, mum would clean the poop and I would wash up when the baby pees. It was a lovely arrangement until that one time my mum had to step out urgently to buy the baby a mosquito net. I couldn’t beg and plead and ask her to stay behind because the mosquitos in our house were bigger than the baby! I also knew that I was sunk because when it came to lady luck, she preferred showing me a lovely little finger rather than giving me what I want. So yes, I knew that the moment mum stepped out of the house I would be wading in doody pool! But yes there was the dream of hope which I so desperately clung on to! “I’ll be back in half an hour” mum chimes and usually in “mum talk” half an hour doubtlessly stands for “I MIGHT be back in 2 hours!”

My sister kept me company and we kept joking about what we would do if the baby pooed before mum came. My sister did this hilarious impersonation of me fainting, we laughed like crazy and before we knew it 2 hours flew by in a flash. Aaah! I thought foolishly. Maybe my luck was changing! And then we smelt it!

The baby started wailing and my sister and I exchanged worried glances. She slowly peeked into the diaper and gasped! Oh no! where was mum? Then, feeling all motherly I dared to take a peek and thank heavens the baby had pooped just about the tiniest blob. Feeling giddy with courage I opened up the diaper and mopped up the babys bum with wet wipes and sent my sister to get a mug of warm water for a final wipe. I smiled at the baby, the baby smiled back. And then came a shuddering squelch from the babys tummy and out poured what I can only describe to be wave after wave of poo. My mouth went dry, my throat closed, my breath stalled and my head began to spin…and still the POOnami wouldn’t stop. I almost fainted right into it. I could feel my eyes well up with tears. From a distance I could hear loud screams (which turned out to be me on a subconscious level). My sister rushed into the room mug of water in hand and what she saw still haunts her to date! A happy baby with poo squirting out and an ashen faced me sitting there rock like just staring at all the poo and screaming! Yeah, it wasn't a pretty sight!

Would you believe after managing to calm me down, my sister and I managed to clean up all the poo? And would you believe right after we got rid of the last dirty cloth my mum arrived? Talk about timing! But she was proud of how I “managed” to stay sane after the incident! I was in a nasty stupor for a long while after the incident.

I handle poo much better now. What after seeing it on an hourly/ daily basis. I was cleaning up the babys boo reeking of confidence when my sister sidled up to me and said “Well done! You can handle baby poo! They say the more babies grow up the nastier their poo gets. All the best sister!”

Erm.

Whooaaa New Mama!

If asked for a word that describes motherhood, I'd have to say a "hurricane". Giving birth, the days that followed with the non stop feeding and complete lack of sleep and absolutely no time for anything other than the baby seems like a blur to me three months down the line. It is only now that I can breathe a little better. I get time for some small luxuries like an extended bath  (complete with music and dancing around the bathroom), reading time when I poop (I'm a major bathroom reader :D) watching some TV when I eat(best way to catch up on some soaps).
When i was pregnant, all i wanted to do was deliver. My mum laughed when i told her this and she said "just you wait. Once the baby is out, you'll want to stuff it back again!" And you know what? She was right. I used to be somewhat ashamed to admit that motherhood made me feel horrid at times because i wanted to seem a competent mother and almost always it would never pan out that way. All throughout my intial days I most dearly wanted to jump off a cliff; what with the post surgery pains, constantly crying infant, sleep deprived brain and being stuck in one place for what seemed like forever. I used to feel emotionally drained and just so powerless to face day after day of monotony. And that's when a close friend and a supermom came to my rescue. She gave a teary eyed me some simple tips on how to get over the baby blues.
They were really effective and hence I thought I'd share them with new mamas everywhere.

-A step back
The word "Mother" does not mean "do everything yourself". You're new to motherhood and trust me no matter what anyone says, it really is ok to take a step back and let more experienced people (preferably your own mum or an trusted relative) look after some aspects of your baby. Best to look on and learn the ropes. Slowly start trying things on your own under supervision and then before you know it you'll be able to do things great on your own.
For people staying abroad, this would be tough as you would be on your own. Make sure you join motherhood training classes before your delivery and ensure you get adequate training.

- Don't neglect your favorite activities
Be it watching your favorite soaps, reading, listening to music or painting, make sure you get sometime to get yourself involved in your favorite activities. The first month was an absolute time warp for me. I had no time for anything at all and I would be so exhausted by the end of the day. But by the 2nd month, I got myself a little TV time while I ate my meals, read a little while on the throne (major bathroom reader I am :)) and wrote before I went to sleep at night. And it was an absolute joy. I felt human after such a long time. Even 10 mins of your day dedicated to your favorite activities will make such a difference to your motherhood.

- Vent our your feelings
Keeping feelings bottled inside is the absolute worst way to develop resentment toward motherhood. If some days as a mother stress you out,  do not bite your teeth and bear it. You don't have to really. Have a good cry, scream out really loud, a better solution? Call up a really close friend or the best solution?  Call up another new mum and vent out your feelings together. You'd be surprised how many problems you share with other new mums.

-Wait to lose weight
Lady, you're body has been through hell with the massive amounts of weight gain, painful ligaments, backaches and water retention.  A lot of insensitive losers may be quick to notice you post pregnancy weight and be even more quick to comment on it. Ignore them. Yes, you should get back into shape but do it at your own pace. You've had a little person pushed out your nethers or you might have had a c sec which is a major abdominal surgery. So take time and slowly start working out. Take a short walk, do specified exercises and never, ever rush the weight loss.

-Eat , Pray, Love 
Do indulge in some of your favorite foods once in a while. A slice of pizza, some MSG free chinese, a decadent dessert. It's ok. Don't hate yourself for it. Your body is regulating its hormones back to normal and needs some TLC, so go ahead and dig into some of your comfort foods once in a while.
Do not forget to pray for a little while every day. It makes a world of difference and leaves you feeling calm and refreshed. Commune with your god and pass on some of your worries thataway.
Baby girls, love yourself! You've been through a lot for the past 9 months and you need to give yourself a bit of love and care. Call home a beautician and get some work done on yourself. When you look good, you will definitely feel good. A good massage (a short one), a facial, a good mani-pedi. Go ahead, spare 20 mins for yourself. You deserve it.

And finally,

-Be kind to yourself
Yes, we all ache to be supermoms but you know what, the more you exert yourself to reach competency, the more you distance yourself from it. Don't be hard on yourself if you go wrong, you'll get it soon enough and don't forget to hug yourself to bits when you get the hang of motherhood and everything that entails it. It is after all the hardest, yet most rewarding jobs in the world.

From New Mums everywhere

*Disclaimer: yes this blog may upset, irritate or hurt some of you, but please if you fall into any of the categories of people mentioned below, do not go anywhere near a new mum. Especially one who looks like she hadn't had 2 months worth of sleep.

I am a 2 and a half month old mother and for those mothers who have just started this stage as well you know I do not intend to have all rosy happiness in this blog. This is a pure rant and nothing more!
Of course I am happy that I have a beautiful baby but ooooh! The perils one has to undergo the first few months is like hell on earth! And I am not even talking about the baby crying non stop, or the crazy late night feeds or the mountains of poop one has to clean up or the lack of months of sleep or being a complete emotional and physical mess; I am talking about the people around (who contribute in no way whatsoever to taking care of my baby or making me feel better in any way) who make my new found mumhood a living hell. And what kind of people are these you ask? Well here goes.

1) The easygoers
These are the singles, the just married and those who choose not don't have a baby quickly. They see you struggle day in and out with the baby with no sleep or a single moment to oneself and despite that say "wow! Having a baby is not so bad! It looks like fun!" People, having a baby is definitely not a bad thing but it is not easy excuse me! The baby doesn't go buy a coke, I feed it throughout the day, notice the clean diaper the baby is wearing? I cleaned up the poop and changed it, oh you see this beautiful new nightdress I'm in? I changed clothes at least a 100 times for each time the baby throws up on me! And the bags under my eyes? Oh it's not the latest in fashion,  I haven't slept for days and days. So no it's not easy so quit saying it is!

2) The advicers
This section is absolutely unbearable! It consists of the older generation aunties and some random uncles who shower you with the weirdest tips and tricks to look after the baby. Kind of like if the baby has a cough spin it in a circle three times and hold it upside down under a full moon sort of thing. Ok it isn't so corny but come on! Science has come a long way and I'd rather listen to an ENT specialist than blow air into my kids ears in order to clear them (yes, people do that!). These old aunties won't let you get out of bed with the excuse of rest, won't let you watch TV (women who just gave birth shouldn't watch anything! ), make you eat horrendous kashayams (medicinal mixes) and give the funniest, most supertitious methods to cure any sickness the baby has. Thank you very much but I'd rather have a doctor not a witch doctor look after my child.

3) The show offs
This group consists strictly of women who just want to make you feel like you have taken permanent residence in Hades. They would come around under the pretence of seeing your baby and then turn you green with jealously with talk about how awesome the outside world is. That kind of talk feels like you've replaced tissue paper with sandpaper for your privates. Here you are recovering from shoving a person out your below; looking very much like a beached whale and feeling pretty much like you belong in the stone age when this woman waltzes in going on and on about the tiny new clothes she bought, about the foreign trip she is going to take, about the awesome new restaurant she tried and about the latest movie she saw. Some even have the audacity to ask about the last movie we saw. Hmmm, well let me see, that would be a 4D scan of my son moving around inside me. There was action (he was super active), there was drama (I cried a river), there was romance (my husband and I embraced) and there was horror (imagining the baby coming out of me). Why don't you go catch up on that movie soon too hmmm?

4) The sticky sickly
Look, a new born has been inside the protective womb of the mother unexposed to anything bad until he or she comes out. A baby is extremely fragile and needs to be treated with care. And of all the people it is the extremely sick who never seem to get this. These guys may be coughing their lungs out, rubbing their eyes to blindness, snorting away putting pigs to shame and producing snot like a factory but no matter how drop dead they look and feel, they simply have to hold the baby! And since this is India and people get hurt super fast, you just grind your teeth into dust while watching an extremely sick person coughing much love onto your babys face. People if you are sick PLEASE do not touch babies. And do not be insulted if someone asks you not to either. End of the day, you gift the germs and walk away and I am left with a sick baby. It is not fun. Period.

5) The supermoms
These moms could well be the brand ambassadors for The Darvins theory of survival on steroids. I mean seriously how does one woman know everything about babies and their upkeep? One moment she would have a hungry, sleepy baby with a dirtied diaper screaming its head off, if you bat an eyelid, the baby would have a clean diaper, be fed and sleeping comfortably in his crib while supermama could be seen taking freshly baked brownies out of the oven for her 2 elder kids. These mums just constantly suprise you with facts and information about babies and everything under the sun regarding babies. You can't help but love-hate them. You find yourself hating them; secretly killing them in your head over and over for being so competent while you feel like a bumbling fool covered in poop and drool; yet you keep running to them for factoids about your child.  Can't live with them can't live without them really.

6) The fault finders
Now these people are seriously demonic! Know how every child is gorgeous to his or her parents? Well these fault finders say everything in the book to reiterate that warm fuzzy feeling you have in your head when you look at your baby. "Wow! She looks just like a boy!" "He has such a girly face. Don't ever grow his hair", "He looks like he's going to have bow legs", She's so dark! How will you get her married off? (A month old baby? Seriously?), "He looks like his grandfather, shame he wasn't a handsome fellow", "it's ok. A lot of girls are hairy nowadays".
If I want an opinion about my baby (which I don't) I will ask and only then need you open your mouth which in my frank opinion needs to be fitted with an enormous gobstopper.

The supermoms say that babies get a lot better after 6 months. 3 down, 3 more to go so until then, the above mentioned people would do themselves good to stay away from this sleep deprived new mama.

All In The "Jeans"

Dear diary

I have officially humiliated myself at a pretty respectable branded clothing outlet. For some reason weight gain on my bottom seems directly proportional to the number of super short tops I have in my closet. Thus, the bigger the buttocks, the more the number of short tops! Sometimes its like I have Murphy as a live in partner!

The person who named the behind as "gluteus MAXIMUS" knew exactly what he was in talking about! Don't keep it in check and it gets as MAXIMUS as it possibly can!

I ask my best friend the question eternally dreaded by all best friends almost every day. "Babe, do these jeans make me look fat?" Ever since a week long fight after a particularly honest answer, the best friend has been extremely diplomatic and her answers range from "Fat? Fat? Whoever called you that?" To "I think straight cut jeans would suit you even better hon!"all the while I know she's thinking in her head "God! Somebody tell this woman the honest to goodness truth!"
The "honest-to-goodness" is the main reason why salespeople and I don't get along at all! It's like they have this mental measuring tape on and the moment I pick out something from the medium section, they waste no time in rushing forward and "helpfully" announcing "Madam! That is the medium section. The LARGE section is over there!" (Thank you obnoxiously annoying and unforgivably thin saleswoman with supersonic voice!)

So anyway diary, this particular trip was pure disaster I tell you! Of the 12 pairs of jeans I own, only 2 had even the remote ambition of reaching up and over my behind. And they were so snug, I would never have been able to bend, eat or even breathe in them. So yes, I needed to shop for a new and larger pair. I headed over to my favorite shop (by favorite I mean the shop that stocks clothes my size) and to my horror, my regular salesgirl, the one with loads of tact and patience was on leave. Instead they present me with a super skinny teen who worked there part time. She gives me a once over and throws the "large section over there" line at me (temper in major check!)
I make a brave stab at some conversation and politely ask her to help me with some jeans. "Oh we don't stock size 38...only upto 34" Oh lord! Have mercy! I would have loved to strangle her. Instead I smiled (rather looked like I had rictus) and asked her to get me a size 34.
"A 34?" (A long look given at my buttocks) erm...ok..." A pair of deep blue 34 sized jeans was shoved into my hands. The smirk on her smug face rubbed my ego the worst way and I swore i would stuff myself into the jeans in the worst way that I could.
The next 45 minutes were the worst, most claustrophobic minutes of my life. I sat, jumped, lay on the floor and almost screamed in anger trying to fit myself into the jeans. I'm sure to have developed my biceps trying to put the button. I held my breath for so long, sucking my tummy in, I would have made the world's greater deep sea diver proud!
You can't even imagine how I managed to totter out of the changing room diary! It was a nightmare! The jeans were so tight, I could not stand up straight! The salesgirl turned purple from trying to suppress her laughter!
"Perfect fit madam!" She happily sang!
I got so mad I actually let out my breath and my button popped! It flew across the room and smacked the manager right on his face! Everyone stood gob smacked for a long time.

Obviously there was only one thing to do. I sighed (heard the zip go down) and announced with the tiniest bit of dignity I had left "I'll pay cash."

Note to self: check for a clothing store at least an hour away from the scene of the crime.

The Capsicum Wars

Dear diary

Last week I wrote about the joys of shopping at a super market. Today, I beg to differ. I discovered my positive attitude toward supermarkets had developed as a result not having visited one in over a year.
The way things can change in just 12 months is unbelievable! Gone are the days diary when supermarkets used to be all about service and comfort and need I say order! I think they thrive on competitiveness right now.
Things like grabbing the last fresh loaf of bread, reaching the top shelf to grab the discounted items and rushing to the check out counter first have become matters of national importance. I am in my late twenties as you know diary and yet I felt like a granny amongst the belligerent aunties and uncles jabbing me out of their way and tossing me about from one corner of the supermarket to the other!

You won't believe this, but all this hulabaloo started with a simple chicken curry with capsicum. Please keep in mind the capsicum, that plays a major role in my entry!
So, I drove down to the supermarket happy as a clam. And despite having to park my car 2 roads down, I was in a good mood. I picked up a trolley from the entryway and entered what I would like to politely refer to as "Hades". For one it was sweltering hot and for another it was utter chaos! I couldn't make out where the store began or ended. There was a sea of sweaty, angry people, piles of fruits and veges and for some reason diapers all over the floor (later learned that there was a special discount on diapers).

Luckily two ladies who rushed into the store shoved me into the right section. Meats. But seemed like half of the neighborhood wanted to make chicken curry as well because all that was left in the chicken counter were a couple of battered chicken wings. so what I thought. Beef with capsicum is even better. I'm generally an optimist you see so I settled for the beef (forgot for an optimistic moment that the husband hated beef!).

The veges section was controlled by lucifer himself. A sour looking sales staff who looked like he would break me in half in case I asked him where the onions were. So I asked a sweet lil ol frail looking lady next to me. To recall her exact words "what are you stupid? Can't you read?" And she brandished her walking stick at me. Turns out I was standing right in front of the "Fresh onions" sign, blocking the "sweet old (language control on!) Access as well.
The old bag kept tossing the bad onions at my face with a practiced hand and once she was done I quickly shoved a few into my cart and was immediately shoved by the crowd into the fruit section.
Post almost breaking my back slipping on a half eaten banana on the floor and having my face shoved into the overripe mangoes I bravely fought the crowd into the vege section again. Would you believe in the confusion some lazy but clever shopper had pinched my bag of onions?? The old bag was back at the onion crate so I decided to get some towards the end (well, actually, anytime after she left)
And now the best part of the story diary! The capsicum wars! There was just a single bag of capsicum left. I was halfway there when I saw a "gentleman" (nothing gentle about the way he was snarling at me!) Halfway there as well. The screen turns sepia and we stood facing each other like foes in a western (background scroe et all). My hands tightened on my cart, so did his. People flocked past us, we didn't notice. The bag of capsicum beckoned and I blinked! The man rushed his cart toward the capsicum! Cheater!! I started a split second too late! In his evident glee of victory, he accidentally ran his cart wheel over a little girl's foot. The girl dropped the ice cream she was eating. She looked at the ice cream, looked up at the monster uncle who was responsible and let out an ear splitting roar! The next thing I knew, the man was being pummeled from all sides by the girl (not tall enough so she satisfied herself by kicking at his knees) and her 2 elder (but still tiny) brothers. I couldn't help but let out a huge laugh of TRUE victory and toss my hair and get shoved all the way to the check out line. The capsicum bag safe and sound in my trolley.

I stood for an hour at the check out counter. Entertained myself with the gossip section of a magazine I usually detest. Ended up buying the magazine because it turned out to be very interesting.
I was finally flung out the door by the crowd exiting hades. I lugged my shopping bags to my car. Started the car, put the ac in full swing and let out a scream that was building up inside me for a long time. Felt so much better after that diary!

The husband's going grocery shopping the next week. Will suggest he wears armour and work on his vocabulary of bad words.
Will also suggest that the next time he gets a craving for chicken curry with capsicum, he gets some take out from the closest hotel.