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Monday, October 13, 2014

Love Yourself. And the Sanity Will Melt Off You Like Butter

Written for the Daily O

The new fat woman gyan is, "You have to love yourself. The weight will just drop off you like butter." As confusing, contradictory and downright mental this advice sounds, it's the most common cheerleader chant you will hear when the race is a lung-crushing waddle-wobble towards size zero, or at least size one-less zero and the champion is the woman who didn't eat an entire cheesecake at one sitting.
Telling a fat woman she has to love herself is like telling people that Jesus was a nice man. Yes. Agreed. OK. Yes. ENOUGH ALREADY, you're not letting me listen to the sound of my jaws making like Godzilla on this cookie making like a high-rise apartment building in NYC! Learning to love myself. If only they had a class on that in school.
It would sure beat muhavare with Mrs. Mathur any day. But, like every other fat woman, I know for a fact, that once I lose weight, every single problem in my life will suddenly get solved. Being thin, will undo all the wrongs. Like the time my script didn't get selected. (If I was hot, my client would like my film.) Or the time my kid didn't get in to the school I had my heart set on. (If I was hot, they would totally choose me umm...my child.) 
+So hey! If loving myself is all it takes, I can totally do that. I start by saying "I love you" to myself in the mirror but get distracted by the enlarged pores on my face. They're so huge, I mull, that they can be seen from Google Earth. So then I decide to be kind to myself. But that seems to demand that I serve myself huge helpings of dessert.
Finally, I realize, in a brain wave that destroys five cities, splashes Pluto and then comes and settles in a dripping mass on my head, I SHOULD MAKE A LIST.
 1. I love myself because I'm so fat that if a snake bites me, I will be able to survive longer than if I was thin.
The End.
I write letters to myself but stop believing them when the urge to write fiction takes over and I have myself jumping from building to building in a bikini. I practice The Secret and stick up huge cutouts of my face on J. Lo's body but have to take them down when the maid begins to give me a wide berth.
I ask my friends to put down nice things about me but then, they're my friends, they always say nice things about me. Loving myself leads to a five kilo weight gain and a nasty lipstick mark on my mirror than smudges but can't be removed. Finally it hits me! I need to hate myself. Step one....

Monday, February 06, 2012

Here I am

Please read my new blog: http://itishapeerbhoycommunications.blogspot.in/ covering communications, Branding and Careers.


Thursday, October 06, 2011

Currently Making a Comeback

Please bare with me. 
(yes, bare) 

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

explanation

When I started blogging in September 2006, I figured that it didn't make sense to write anonymously. What was the point of putting effort into something, trying not to be self-indulgent and to stay entertaining, if people wouldn't be able to put a name to the words, a face to the name?
I began to look around self-consciously at airports-maybe someone would come up to me breathlessly, throw their arms around me and tell me they thought I was fabulous. Maybe some wide-eyed novice would sit sweatily next to me asking for advice. Maybe, people would know me.
It never happened.
But as the blog grew and I got more and more graphic, the people I wrote about began to wonder if they would be stopped by strangers asking, "Hey, are you the bloke who's daughter showed her tit to the taxi driver?"
"Are you the guy who's wife says boob every three words?"
It would only be a matter of time before my son would be asked "Aren't you the guy who's poop is named after all the Indian politicians?" Was that your mom I saw the other day brandishing her boob at a dirty old man while she tried to feed you with her umbrella?"
The more graphic and irreverent I get with age, empowerment and not giving a damn what anyone thinks of me, the more I hurt the people I write about. 
And I don't know how not to write about the realities of my life. Not because I'm different, but because that's the way I've always seen what happened to me and around me. 
So it's kinder to the people who loved me, been there for me and paid for my cigarettes to shoot my mouth off but keep it off the great www where anyone can google pork-eating funny man and come up with my father's name.  
I've often thought of blogging anonymously but starting all over again seems too hard to do and I wouldn't want to publish my writing and not put my name to it. But off course I love blogging and maybe someday I will. In the meantime, it's still such a wondrous thing that there are such large hearts, such kind souls in a space  that I was told was only full of people tried to get laid by ten year old girls. It's so beautiful that such talented writers share their skilled words and their special lives with strangers for free. It is indeed, a wonderful world and like some fairy-tales, some virtual spheres can also come true. 
I am humbled. 
Thank you.