Weighty Issues

'18 days off from work! You're sooooooo lucky, yaar... you can rest all you want!' Rest?? That does not figure on my immediate to-do list and I wouldn't be wrong to hazard a guess that it would most certainly be the last thing I'd subject my crumby corpus to. Instead, I have every intention to rid it of its despondent skeletal frame that has become increasingly tantamount with me (the word 'skeletal' I mean), what with the general public eyeing me with that condolatory look, 'Now here's a poor lass who could really do with some feeding.' Some even manage to bump into me, thinking I'm not there at all (yes, I have quipped this stinker of a line many-a-times before... but those who know me would damn well vouch for this theory!!) And more often than not, poor ol' Mom is subject to admonition and speculation, 'Don't you give her enough food?'; 'Bahut kaam karwaati ho kya?' (The last rebuke, in particular, leaves Mom royally peeved; as my aversion to help her out with daily chores is, best as I can put it, fairly conspicuous as well as notorious... the sole bone of contention between her and I).

Back to the key issue at large, I intend to solve the matter of wagging tongues and disapproving heads, once and for all. Infact, one chatty aunt who has a rather dim view on the subject of 'How-many-kilos-go-to-maketh-Avanti', has decided to wager the meager income at her disposal on my gaining atleast 5 kilos in two months... a tall (or rather, fat) order... but I humbly accepted, nonetheless. I stand to gain a paltry 'I-can-buy-roasted-gram-with-this' Rs. 100 in case I achieve the mean feat; so I'm pretty sure you are convinced that the monetary bait does not excite me enough to pile on the pounds. I ain't going the whole mile for no-one. This one's for me.

It is not going to be a joy-ride. Bones are going to ache (if not break), muscles (what little there is of them) are gonna be stretched and a lot of sweat is going to ooze out. Plus, there is the additional matter of juggling my daily routine with gym timings. Take Dad for his cardiac rehab/physiotherapy sessions at Bandra, go to work, have the weekly catch-ups with friends, get my unruly hair in order, file my investment proofs with my organization, manage the numerous bank accounts that have been opened in my name, get my annoying 'other' wisdom tooth out (yes, it has begun to ache profusely again), get new clothes stitched... and.... eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!! What am I doing here, typing furiously on my keyboard? Gotta scoot.... a million things cry for my attention already!