The evening walks have stopped cold turkey. Comfort food has been ingested by the mega kilo. These include fatty stuff like french fries, and may the Diet God find it in his heart to forgive me, straight bars of chocolate. And I have never watched so many movies or read as many books straight. Of course, when I look at the waistline, which has long shed the hair pin curves which in the distant past were considered deemed natural danger zones, and required to come with statutory warning, I see a tree trunk. Stolid and solid. No matter, I tell myself. I will start the walks tomorrow. I will cut down the fatty, sinful food tomorrow. I will gradually reduce my calorific intake and become Kareena Kapoor on Rujuta Diwekar’s diet. Read size zero.
Who ever it was who snorted “In your dreams” please leave the premises.
Nonetheless, I have my plan chalked out. This includes buying new workout clothes. My tracks are tattered and faded and the lycra fit has stretched to such obscene levels that I would like to believe I have whittled down to this slimness after being at that when I started using said tracks. I delude myself, a cursory look down at them thighs does indicate monster thighs growing to such gigantic proportions that soon I will need to apply anaesthesic gel for thigh burn if I need to get from the bedroom to the kitchen.
Therefore, I swear on all that is holy, including my single pair of Jimmy Choos, (which are incidentally rapidly disintegrating due to lack of use), that I will start today.
I will climb the stairs today if nothing else. I will walk for an hour round the park or until my legs feel ready to fall off. I will not snack on foods which gleefully bound into my system and scatter fat cells far and wide.
I will be active and not roll around mindlessly on the sofa, channel surfing and watching movies so inane that even the child refuses to watch them.
And I will take out the clothes that no longer fit me, and which have been confined to the bottom of the clothes heap in the cupboard, and keep them up front. Right where I can see them every single time I open said cupboard. They will mock me, jeer at me, and shame me into making myself trim enough to fit back into them. And if all else fails, I will take the weighing scale out of hiding and keep it in the bathroom where I can every single morning shudder at the monster truck I’ve morphed into.
No sir. No more excuses. I would like to see myself in the dressing table mirror without my hips being cropped at the side.
I know this Mall you’re talking about, being there is like so totally opposite to its name…
A friend of mine also has an office there and he hasn’t had much luck with his work as well, so I guess all the believers of Vastu and Feng Shui, rejoice.
All the best for your new office and may your work bring you greater rewards and prosperity.
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rj2424: Really, this just validates what we believed.
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Ahem…I would like to give you a Hi Five except that it would be so embarrasing. But then Tomorrow is another day..
I have deluded myself into believing that the black cords I have worn today flatter my thoughs but I dare not walk- its thigh rub thigh rub…
pass on the gel here please
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Flatter my THIGHS …
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Bhavna: Behenaaaaa!
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Remember a post you had written a few months (years!) ago about how you walked and stuff and how you lost weight and I had commented that I am all inspired and hope to copy paste your post onto my blog and you had given me your blessing!…ahem ahem! Well may be I will just ask you permission to copy paste this one instead??? can I please 😉
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R’s Mom: Alas and alack. We’re all in the same boat.
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Sigh… I wish I had a single pair of Jimmy Choos too 😦
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Wow! Now I can claim to know at least 1 person who owns a Jimmy Choo.. I am willing to swap my size zero(spouse calls it -1) for that one pair!
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Aathira, Violet: Arey, they were a gift. I would have to sell my teeth to afford a pair.
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