Obsession

She was jealous, of all the girls he talked to,all the girls he could talk to, and all the the girls he must be thinking of, she looked at herself in the mirror, " what is missing in me? " . The inbox open in her phone, the words - ' i miss you' , typed three hours ago, unsent, staring at her patronizingly.
She wanted him all for herself, for that,she had to be better, than the beautiful girls around him, some with their thin waists,others with unblemished beautiful skin,and some with slender legs , a few with long black hair.
She was nothing like them, and she knew he would never look at her, 'maybe if i made my grand gesture,' she thought.

she turned to the pile of photos on her bed, each one of a different day, - him sitting at the cafeteria, smiling at her; him sitting with a girl, she didn't know her name - 'the slut' ; him playing basket ball shirt less, him eating food, him sleeping in his bed, and a a lot more thrust under the pillow.

She needed her grand gesture, he was never going to fall in love with her, he was never going to fall for a sweet heart like her, he wanted those beautiful girls, not her.
She took a knife, cut her finger, looked at him, his eyes wide open, she didn't think it was fear, it was admiration, for waht she was about to do. He was tied up, she didnt want him to run away to his girls again. This time she made sure.

"i love you, " she said, looking at him, he was shaking a bit now, obviousley not out of fear, it was the excitement to know what would happen next.she turned the A.C on, he had been sweating for quite some time, her cut finger had stopped dripping, so she took the knife again, this time dragging it deep from the start of her palm till below her wrist. Blood gushed out fast now.

He was not crying out despair, but out of the bursting love emerging for her now.

It was time to show him how much she loved him. "Its my gift to you," she said, stroking her bloodied hand against his face.

The green eyed monster

What will a girl be without her emotions.

She is overridden with thoughts, panicky thoughts.
Anger, happiness, jealousy... so much jealousy and pride. Emotions flow as soon as she wakes up. Different ones are triggered through words, newly discovered news (gossip to be more precise), photographs, objects, you really don't know what can change a girl's mood.

How do i know girls are unpredictable? I just experienced it first hand. I was going through my friend's list on Facebook and came across a - how do say this? A frenemy? Are there such things in real life? I thought they were only alive in sitcoms. 

Anyway, i saw her recent photographs. One of them showed her standing beside her friends as she wore a summer dress and a pair of sunglasses, which were too big for her face (sense the tone of bitchiness in the words?) The photos made my heart miss a beat. She was toned. She had a thin face now. And she looked, regrettably more beautiful than the last time i saw her.

The pangs of jealousy tore through my chest. I kept staring at her. I had always envied her. The way her hair used to have a certain lustre, Her skin, flawlessly white and soft. She had eyelashes that could touch her eyebrows and big brown eyes, which could melt any boy looking into them. She always had boys running after her. Many even befriended me to get to her.

This had put a black seed in my head and watching her become sexier and thinner just made me lose my cool. I always felt inferior to her, she always had the most handsome boyfriends, she got A-grades in her college and school projects and was quite popular. And she was friends with me. You might imagine my anger when the boys i liked used to ask me whether she was available.

It's not like i was not good at what i did, or that i was not good looking enough. She was just better. When i left for my job, i thought i had lost contact for good, then i remembered Mark Zuckerberg had already invented Facebook and there was no letting go of the people i didn't like. I had to tolerate her becoming more and more enticing with age as i sat in my house and grew larger. We were the same size once- and not fat! We were both on the thinner side and i still felt unsure about my self. This just says that i didn't have enough self confidence but her beauty never helped either.

I felt good about my self when she used to tell me she liked my dressing sense better. Well, i was better at some thing. Once i grow older, i know i am going to read this post and laugh at myself, but till then, i have to say, she just put in the anger i needed to get back into shape. Jealousy is a mean little monster.

It makes you think the worst of things, and gets the more powerful Mr. Hyde out of you. It can make you do terrible things. I have done horribly wrong things out of jealousy. Well that story is for another time. So to end this post all i have to say is - I am trying to get back to my dieting and exercise regime. It's high time i stopped feeling sorry for myself and regained my position as the more beautiful one out of the two of us. Jealousy helped me in this situation. Maybe it's not so bad after all. 

F.R.I.E.N.D.S

I am back with more ramblings

Today's amalgamation of thoughts - Who is a good friend ?

I have had many, how should i put this - pals? Should i go with that word? Since friend, in today's time is too strong  a word. When i was younger (look at me being all old and wise) i used to take companionship really seriously. I could do anything in the name of friendship. Even go against my parents. Well that came back and bit me on my behind. For me, any one who was nice to me and talked to me was my best friend.
And a lot of people took this naivety for granted.

I don't want to make this a serious and sombre post, but somehow, my mood isn't letting me do the opposite. So, i am just going to let my thoughts flow and let the post be what it has to be.

Once i keep my thoughts in place, i see how i expect too much out of a person. Every one expects to recieve the love they give and maybe i loved too hard. Not looking at what and whom i really should have loved - my family, my mother, father, even my dogs. They never got the attention they deserved. I was too busy seeking the fondness elsewhere. It is not like i am saying friendship isn't sacred anymore, but it's soiled.

I have five people i know outside my family, whom i respect, and admire for their patience with me, even though they weren't blood.
I look at the unforgettable series  - F.R.I.E.N.D.S, I had built a fantasy in my head watching it. I saw myself living with a bunch of people who took as much care of me as i of them. It never turned out that way. Maybe i am being impatient, i might just have all my fantasies come true in due time, but, till then, it is the bitter disappointments i have suffered because of my own laughable assumptions.

How do you judge friendship? Is it judged at all? Should anyone love a friend unconditionally? Are there demands and clauses in every friendship? Is friendship really a give-take arrangemnt? I have too many questions that have gone unanswered.

It's not like i have turned into a cynic and lost all hope. I still strive to look at the world through my rose coloured glasses and hope to find a few glowing spirits like me.

Here is with a big sigh, that i leave this article at its bitter end. I seem to have vented most of my feelings. Might come back with more soon. 

Katie Makkai "Pretty"

I came across this poem through a kind friend, who was astonished at the way i saw myself. This poem really opened some closed doors in my head. It is a must read and do watch her reciting it passionately in her Youtube video.  



When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, “What will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? What comes next? Oh right, will I be rich?” Which is almost pretty depending on where you shop. And the pretty question infects from conception, passing blood and breath into cells. The word hangs from our mothers' hearts in a shrill fluorescent floodlight of worry.

“Will I be wanted? Worthy? Pretty?” But puberty left me this funhouse mirror dryad: teeth set at science fiction angles, crooked nose, face donkey-long and pox-marked where the hormones went finger-painting. My poor mother.

“How could this happen? You'll have porcelain skin as soon as we can see a dermatologist. You sucked your thumb. That's why your teeth look like that! You were hit in the face with a Frisbee when you were 6. Otherwise your nose would have been just fine!

“Don't worry. We'll get it fixed!” She would say, grasping my face, twisting it this way and that, as if it were a cabbage she might buy.

But this is not about her. Not her fault. She, too, was raised to believe the greatest asset she could bestow upon her awkward little girl was a marketable facade. By 16, I was pickled with ointments, medications, peroxides. Teeth corralled into steel prongs. Laying in a hospital bed, face packed with gauze, cushioning the brand new nose the surgeon had carved.

Belly gorged on 2 pints of my blood I had swallowed under anesthesia, and every convulsive twist of my gut like my body screaming at me from the inside out, “What did you let them do to you!”

All the while this never-ending chorus droning on and on, like the IV needle dripping liquid beauty into my blood. “Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? Like my mother, unwrapping the gift wrap to reveal the bouquet of daughter her $10,000 bought her? Pretty? Pretty.”

And now, I have not seen my own face for 10 years. I have not seen my own face in 10 years, but this is not about me.

This is about the self-mutilating circus we have painted ourselves clowns in. About women who will prowl 30 stores in 6 malls to find the right cocktail dress, but haven't a clue where to find fulfillment or how wear joy, wandering through life shackled to a shopping bag, beneath those 2 pretty syllables.

About men wallowing on bar stools, drearily practicing attraction and everyone who will drift home tonight, crest-fallen because not enough strangers found you suitably fuckable.

This, this is about my own some-day daughter. When you approach me, already stung-stayed with insecurity, begging, “Mom, will I be pretty? Will I be pretty?” I will wipe that question from your mouth like cheap lipstick and answer, “No! The word pretty is unworthy of everything you will be, and no child of mine will be contained in five letters.

“You will be pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing. But you, will never be merely 'pretty'.”

I like you like i like my fat sister

Is it normal for men to comment openly about girls? Do they think it is charming to tell tell us about our physical flaws in public? Maybe this happens with me on a regular basis, so i have taken it to be their second nature.

What's more, i try to make amends with my hurt ego by buying clothes and i get booed off by eve-teasers. A new low for me. Getting booed off the streets by eve-teasers. I know i shouldn't take their remarks into consideration. However, to point out the deep dark secret - No matter how much a girl says she hates eve teasers, they are one of the many promoters of beauty. In their own cheap, vulgar way, they let you know - 'Honey, you look gorgeous'. And to tell you the truth, a girl, who gets such harassment on a daily basis, will wonder to herself whether she was looking bad, if she went unnoticed one day.

It is quite rare that i have come across a guy who liked me just the way i am. For over five years now, almost every boy has said this line to me," You are pretty, but, you would be gorgeous if you were thin." or even the more hands-on sentence, "I like you, but i would have loved you if you were thinner."

It would be a surprise if one day a handsome six feet tall man came upto me and said he liked me on the first glance. That doesn't happen to me even after a year of knowing each other. Almost all the men in my life have stopped at liking me as their friend. The excuse - You are kinda too fat. There have been a few admirers (why won't there be? I am beautiful!) However, i have screwed it up many times and just lost hope now.

I got off track there for a minute, sinking too much into self pity. However, i am still stumped about the comments passed towards me. It was not enough to just stare and snicker quietly. They took a step further to make their remarks official by being loud enough to be heard. Maybe i could just forget about the whole incident like a normal person would do, but somehow, this hurt like hell!

A dialogue with the dead

Ok, so, in the last post I told you that I would reveal some of the drama that has already happened in my life. It is upto you to believe whatever I write here. It might be too bold for you or maybe this happens to everyone and I just make a big deal about everything. It's for you to decide.

I should start with some thing small.

One night as I was sitting on my bed with my cousins. We had just come back from my dad's funeral. it wasn't a sad morning. people had been mourning all week and now they were tired. I was just 11, I didn't understand why everyone kept crying. The death of my father had not seeped into my soul yet. As we buried our feet into the quilt, I felt a gush of wind sweep past my ear. The door was open and suddenly the weather had taken a turn for the worse.

we sat looking at each other's faces. The winds started t grow stronger.they grew colder. My cousin looked at me and shivered, "Did you talk to your father?"

Ilooked scared. I had not talked to him in the hospital. Not even when he was on his death bed. my mother had decided, I wasn't old enough to handle the pain of watching him die.

My cousin stared at my face, which was slowly turning a paler shade of  white. She repeated her question. I looked at her and then I turned to look out the door, it had turned from a dry sunny afternoon to a dreary, black, monstrous  evening. The winds making the trees to bow to their prowess .

I thought to myself. " Daddy, is that you ?"

Clenching my eyes shut, I concentrated to see his face in my head.

"Dad? Is that you? "

The winds blew harder.

"Daddy, if this is really you, give me a sign."

Lightening struck on a nearby tree and the stray dogs howled for their lives.

As a young kid, who had not seen any such co-incidences yet, believed it to be a sign sent straight  from  the heavens.

"Daddy, you are scaring my cousins. I am here for you."
The storm seemed to smoothen.

"Daddy, I know you miss me, I miss you too.  I wanted to see you before they took you away."
Another stroke of lightening and I was sure I was having a spiritual dialogue with the dead.

"Daddy, please don't be mad, I am always here with you."

The winds appeased.

I smiled to myself. My father loved me still.

My cousins were shaking under the quilt. I looked at them, smiling to myself. They were scared of my father, the man who loved them and me. The one who could never hurt a soul while he lived.
As I tried to change the topic among the other children in the room, I knew my father and I were going to be inseparable for life.

I am addicted to Stumble Upon and Pinterest!
While Facebook has become a necessity.
It is not that I don't have anything else to do! I have the office. I have my work. At home I have a dog to look after. So, why do these media take over my life?

The first thing I do when I enter the office or even the house is open my laptop and check my notifications. I don't care if my dog is fed, if some one broke into my house and robbed me. I care about the notifications I got on the websites!
Well I have to be adamant about one thing - Following them sure is fun!
Stumble Upon is such an experience! People from all over the world putting in articles. Some amazing, some stupid and all of them interesting. Pinterest has the most beautiful pictures and incredible videos which i have come across.
While Facebook simply caresses my vanity to its optimum size, since it makes me feel like a celebrity. Providing me with likes and followers. People sharing my posts and genuinely giving a feedback on my thoughts (even if it is just about my trip to the refrigerator).

You can see how this can be addicting. The false sense of popularity one would get from these sites is very misleading, yet, very pleasing. I know this has been talked about. Whatever i write here has already been talked about! By what you must have read so far, you would have made up your mind about me. 'She must be a loner, and must have no life. Well, maybe in the next post i will tell you the drama that has already happened in my life.

It is a sad time to be fat.

I am single on valentines day and all my friends who are in a relationship have been wishing me since morning. As if to taunt me - "Hey! No one likes you and we are here to remind you of that every second!"

I feel like puking when I hear what the guys are doing for their girlfriends today. A gag reflex developed with almost 20 years of single hood to back me up. I am sitting on my chair in one corner of the office, sipping on tasteless green tea and I can't think of any thing to work on as of now, since all my mind can think about is the fact that no one even looks at me! Or is it my imagination? Do guys notice me and i don't notice them?  Do they try to talk to me but I turn them down unconsciously?

If you can imagine a more painful situation for a highly vain person like me, do tell me.

A lot of people have said these words to me, " You have to wait for the right one." " They don't just drop into your laps! You have to go out and socialise!" "Keep your options open, don't restrict yourself to your fantasy man." A lot of malarkey on the same lines. I have one word for every one with the same advice - What! Followed by a disgusted face.  

I have a few questions for them. Firstly - If I have to wait, and you didn't, does that mean you did something I am not doing? Or maybe you compromised for a relationship? If I have to lower my standards, does that mean the guy lowered his too? Where do i go to socialise? Pubs and bars? I thought those were destinations for one night stands. My fantasy list has been cut down to three things - Intelligent, caring and a good personality. I still don't have a guy. Does this mean there are no men who have these at least these three traits together? Should I cut my list down to one word? That situation really depresses me.

I thought India had a skewed sex ratio, shouldn't that mean I should have had guys falling head over hells for me? Or maybe it's a myth.

I just had a small conversation with my friend, who is also, surprisingly single (turns out thin, good looking girls also remain single on Valentine's), the whole chat went some thing like this -

Her - "Happy Valentine's day!"
Me - "Bullshit."
Her - "Oh ya, i forgot, we are still single."
Me - "How is it possible that we are still single.?"
Her - "We are not bitches.Guys run after girls who are cruel to them."
Me - "So, why can't we turn into bitches?"
Her - "We need guys around us to act like bitches."
Me - "But, we are single...  and no one is really interested in us."
Her - "So there is no point being a bitch, is there?"
Me - "No."
Her - "It's a deadly trap."
Me - "Sigh"

So, by now, you must empathise with my dilemma. I don't have much to look forward to on Valentine's day. I do have this book by Harold Robbins called "The Carpetbaggers", which makes my life seem quite smooth.

I was walking in the subway to get to the metro station today and i saw a vision in black and blue. She had long black hair, and flawless milky skin. She had big brown eyes and teeny tiny waist. Wearing electric blue jeans and light brown boots. With a white loose shirt and a navy blue jacket with gold buttons. She looked enigmatic! Beautiful! That is when a small voice in my head said "I don't want to spend my twenties trapped in a fat suit!"

I want to be beautiful. When i see myself in the mirror i see a pretty, young girl, what people see is a fat plain Jane who doesn't know how to dress right. I decided it was high time i had procrastinated my diet plan enough already and i just had another two months to make the wrong binging into the beautiful girl from within. So this should be the last sad, fat girl post i write. I hope to keep track of my diet from tomorrow morning and start exercising as soon as my legs stop paining. (Another story attached to the last part).

I might make progress since this is a public post and i have to be regular here. 

"You have grown so fat darling". This is how my mother greets me every morning. It's not harsh or a cruel poke at my pudgy exterior. It's out of concern. I get that. Watching you kids grow out of their clothes is fun till they are nineteen, after that it's just scary. May it be vertically or horizontally.
She has been in denial about the fact that i just plain like food and am really, very, lazy! She has gone to  the extent of getting my thyroid, diabetes checked, just to try and find an excuse for my growing width and it is not a pretty sight.

How do you stop the daily alarm from ringing on 'You ma'am, are fat!'? From exercising and dieting? I laugh at the face of diets! I cannot, for the life of me wake up at six in the morning just to sweat and go red in the cheeks for an hour and a half. I don't have it in me.
I did try that for a week. Went and repeatedly saw my body jiggle a vibrate to the rhythm of the treadmill and the awful gym music. Made me gag a little. It wasn't a pretty sight to be surrounded by mirrors on all the sides. You can see each crevice of your spilling fat! Stand in front of those life size mirrors and try to prove me wrong, even my anorexic friend would find a small piece of flesh out of place on her body on those mirrors.

So i have decided to give it yet another try.  The sad truth remains i still have to get a grip on my laziness.

My last meal

So yes, i have started a blog since i am self obsessed.
A lot of people do this. Self obsession is an art.You can't term it as narcissism or vanity. Self obsession is scrutiny and constant observation of your own actions, personality and looks. It is a pain, a full time job, with no retirement date.
Above all this, it is a love-hate relationship, i love looking at myself in the mirror, but i hate what i see. And, really, i have heard all the cliched lines there are to hear, " Beauty comes from within." "One is judged by their actions, not looks." "A woman without curves is a dog without a bone." There are many more, maybe you could remind me of some. And yes, I know, this is a cliched blog. With what promotion Ruby has done on Tv, weight, self image, staying slim - you name it and it's on people's minds.
I am going to try to be regular with what i write, this being my third attempt at a blog! All right, another one for the road. This post has taken me a week to write and really there is nothing interesting in this post apart from the fact that it is absolutely un interesting. So much so, that it borders right on retarded.

Maybe being this self obsessed has its shortcomings, no one else wants to read what a paranoid, almost schizophrenic girl with low self esteem has to say. How about i make you a deal. I start talking, you tell me i am dumb and then i chatter some more. Till obviously the day comes (which eventually it does come) that i grow tired of keeping a regular regimen. Till then, let's keep out of each other's hair trying to look for the extra large peanut we call our brian.