(Excerpt from my one and only journal entry dated 30.08.2011...cont. from here)
I guess I better start at the beginning.
Last evening, I got a severe case of Houseclearosis. Thats when you suddenly decide that you've had enough of living in a pigsty and launch into a clean-and-clear frenzy. The Husband joins in after getting a lecture on how everybody's lives would be much easier if things were just put back where they were supposed to be. Nah, not once in a while, but every day. Yes, like every single darn day. Its an entirely different matter that his idea of cleaning house is restricted to his own wardrobe. ONLY. The kids, of course, LIKE living in a pigsty.
So there I was, sorting though stuff, trying to decide what to keep and what to chuck. Houseclearosis requires a certain steeling of the heart. You gotta mercilessly discard stuff. Especially stuff thats not been used in the last two years. Or ten. There is no place for emotions, no sir. If you falter, you fail. No place for second thoughts either. Nope. Once in the out-bin, always in the out-bin. Ah, but then 9 year olds don't understand that. They tend to rescue Barbie dolls and colourful horses with long, silky manes, and other assorted weird looking stuff from the out-bin. It is one thing to steel your heart and discard stuff, but its quite another to grab a rescued toy from your 9 year old and dump it back in the out-bin. I'm afraid I'm not that steeled up. Yet.
Long story short, I packed the Barbie kitchen, bathroom, drawing-room, pet-parlour, salon, fast-food joint, Cinderalla carriage and plenty others into cartons meant to be passed on and delight other kids. We are strong believers in the Reduce-Reuse-Recycle funda, you see. Well, somewhat strong. Once done with the toys, I moved on to the books. Rearranging and re-stacking them. Everybody, yes everybody, knows that its a very very bad idea to open books that you are supposed to be rearranging. But then, everybody is also prone to occasional lapses of judgement once in a while. I had one of those just then, those li'l lapses of judgement and I opened a book. And then another. And yet another. Again, long story short, I spent a good part of the afternoon drooling over the glossy pictures in my recently-acquired books from my neighbourhood bookstore 'Odyssey'. Odyssey had recently had a 70% off sale and I had picked up these absolutely yummy books that I was leafing though right then - The Soup Bible, The Ice-Cream Book, Greek Cuisine, 70 First Courses, Thai Cooking for Indian Kitchens, Fabulous Cakes, One Pot Dishes... No, no, don't get me wrong, I do NOT enjoy cooking. Nor am I a major foodie. But honestly, who can resist exotic, lavish and droolicious looking pics of food? More importantly, who can resist the 70% off tags?!
And while I was in the middle of this food-glossies-induced-stupor, I noticed an unfamiliar li'l book buried deep in the clutter. I pulled it out and repeated the cardinal sin of opening it. 'twas a smallish book, glossy paper, attractive pics, uncomplicated sentences, and a great plan. A great 4-week plan to become what it called 'Bikini-Fit' ! But what caught my attention most was the cover picture. It was a picture of the back of a woman's torso in an itsy-bitsy bikini. A back like my own, I caught myself thinking. "Oh, I look like that too. From behind." Ahem ! I admit to some stretching-of-the-imagination, but that aside, I MAYBE would look like that cover pic lady from the back. But there was no freakin way I'd have worn a bikini or turned around, what with all that loose, jiggly, overflowing, overhanging bits of me in the front, and worse, stretchmarks. From the East to the West. All the way.
Oh boy! Whom was I kidding? I looked like the map of India even from behind.
And then I remember thinking, nay, wishing that I, me, moi, could be bikini-fit.
And then I thought, why not?
And the minute I thought that, a buzz ran through the soon-to-be-bikini-fit body of mine. Something had happened! Something had definitely happened in that moment ! I had found purpose ! I was so going to be bikini-fit and I was going to be bikini-fit by my 40th birthday. I was going to wear a bikini. (I have never worn one before) Hell, I was going to wear an itsy-bitsy bikini on my 40th birthday AND I WAS GOING TO LOOK FRIGGIN GOOD IN IT !
(Here ended my first and last journal entry of my life thus far)
Post script: Though I had planned on keeping a journal for the entire duration of the 'Bikini Project', I, sadly, aborted it after the first entry. However, I got myself a support group comprising of my very dear friends Uma and Sabine who were my guardian angels and my safety nets. In the following months, I watched my food, exercised a bit, pampered my skin, shopped for a bikini and bullied my husband into taking me to Goa for my 40th birthday. En route to an almost-bikini-fit body I learnt a lot about myself. I also learnt to love my body as it is, make friends with it and feel comfortable in it. I had a rollicking time on the beach and I think my husband enjoyed the show too. My heartfelt gratitude to my buddies Uma and Sabine for being there for me regardless of how many ever times I made an ass(!) of myself. I feel blessed. Hugs.