rumble in the bronx

Let me start by saying this is yet another post about bodily functions. And if you’re going to tell me I am obsessed with this stuff, don’t waste your breathe.

And zillionbig, do not scare me by telling me I have antosiphitis or lamestomachistis or burningdisease or something like that. I’m still doing the two million asanas for every part of my body, all thanks to your last comment.

The thing is my stomach growls. At inopportune moments.

It never ever growls when I’m alone. But if there’s a small closed door meeting, or a large board room presentation, you can bet my stomach will growl. or if I’m in a car with some strangers, and there is no music on, you can be sure my stomach will try and fill the silence.

And no, I do not suffer from constipation, or diarrhea, or other such stomach ailments. Zillionbig, please note. I just have a stomach that goes berserk at times.

And it’s downright embarrassing. Imagine what the guys next to you are thinking,
“Gosh, such a loud noise? Is she farting?” It’s like the times you move in a chair and it makes a farting noise. So you promptly move round a little more, and make the noise a few more times, so people get it. It is the CHAIR and not me.

So now you’re hoping your stomach growls a few more time, so they realize that you can not be repeatedly farting, in company. Hopefully.

Other times, I have to resort to coughing to time with my stomach growling. That’s very inconvenient. One, because if you exert too much pressure, god knows...you just might have a little accident in your underpants. Second, because it doesn’t really sound the same. Coughing is a short bark, growling is long and base sounding, so it's like two layered sounds that can produce very scary reactions in people. Like now everyone around is thinking, “Oh my god, she’s farting and coughing. Hope she doesn’t crap in her pants.”

Lord. I hope they’re really not thinking that. The thing is if you’re with folks you know, even a little, you can always laugh and say, “My stomach can’t stop growling. I must be hungry.”

But what if you don’t know them at all? Like the time I went to Singapore to meet these very propah clients. My first meeting with them. I take the red-eye flight and arrive in their posh office in the morning. And all through my first presentation to them, my stomach is louder than me.

I coughed, I banged files around, I kept squeaking in my chair to cover it up, but it was louder than rakhi sawant. And the entire two hour meeting everyone studiously avoided my gaze as my stomach rumbled on and on.

I’m pretty sure when it was over they locked themselves in a room and laughed till they cried.

So me, I’ve decided there is only one way to tackle this. The next time it rumbles loud and long, I’m just going to stand up and announce, “the monsoons are coming!”

To hell with everyone.
Rumble rumble. Grumble grumble.

bladderdash

Has it ever happened to you?

You’re sitting in a conference room. A meeting is on. You’re wearing a light sleeveless top, and open shoes. It’s just a little cold. Then slowly the cold starts to creep in to your toes and you feel the urge to pee.

You are sitting right at the end of the narrow room. So you stand up, while someone is presenting. Then in the most unobtrusive manner you try and make it to the door. Unfortunately, just about everyone in your path is leaning back in their chair. So when you have to pass the entire room is a symphony of creaking, shuffling, squeaking as people move their chairs. All your chances of a quiet exit are ruined.

But that’s okay, everyone has to pee right?

Anyway you finish your bladder business and you take your seat, setting off the squeaking, shuffling, shifting again.

You are so relieved that the stupid business is over that you drink some water. Then sip your stone cold tea, slowly getting back in to the presentation. As you keep listening to the person talking, you absently minded, and also because you’re just a little bored, keep taking sips of water. And then suddenly you realise your bladder is feeling a little full, AGAIN.

You panic, and steal a look at the cell phone screen. It’s been only fifteen minutes since you went peed.

Damn. You can’t go to the loo again, so soon. Through all the creaking, shuffling, shifting. So you push the glass away. And try and concentrate on what’s being said. But now your toes are feeling cold again. And you know what that means. Your colleagues are going to think you have urinary incontinence.

So you squeeze your thighs together, and practise highway-highway. Which is trying to pretend you are on a highway where there is no loo. But then the thighs are beginning to quiver. And even if there is no loo on the highway, you can always use the bushes right?

So now you’ve lost all track of what’s happening in the meeting. Five minutes have passed. You cannot hold on any longer. Your toes are ice. And you are just beginning to wiggle in your seat, with your thighs jammed together. The guy in the neighbouring chair is beginning to wonder what’s up with you because all this is getting magnified by the soft repeated squeak-squeak of your chair.

So you get up and start to make your way to the door. The same noises but this time some folks are looking just a little surprised. It’s like “wait a minute, weren’t you the one who just went.”

Anyway, when you have to go, you have to go.

And you come back. And you settle into your seat. And you push the water away, and you try and keep your feet warm by constantly rubbing them against each other, studiously avoiding the stares the person on the right is giving you.

But your mind and your bladder, they went drinking last night, and decided to ruin you. And the staff at the hotel, and the guys who set the agenda for the meeting, they are all part of the plan.

Because just as you’re thinking I’ve got it all covered, my bladder is empty, someone announces, “ Okay, we’re taking a five minute nature break. We start again at 12.35 for the next three hour session.”

And as everyone files out of the room, you’re frantically gulping glasses of water.

But with my luck, yesterday, the water only kicked in at 1.30. And then 1.45.

motapa badane ke instant tarike

“Ji haan. I’m very satisfied with Miracle Tummy Popper. ING Vysya walon ne sach moch mere stomach  ko two pack se ganesh pack kar diya hai” -  satisfied customer Agentgreenglass.

                                                                  BEFORE

                                                                   AFTER

It is true. Nothing like a little stress to increase your stomach and make it looking popping and beautiful. Absolutely painless. One time stress. First they will suddenly stop your loan, then your body will go into instant shock, and metabolism will go on strike. And before you know it your stomach will be popping out, just like Agentgreenglass. Who is very happy now, because her wonderful bloated tummy makes her look like Punjab Sweet House ki malkin.

For further enquiries about Miracle Tummy Popper please call ING Vysya home loans. Now.

*The following actions should not be repeated at home. These images were captured under the expert guidance of specialised stunt teams.

from b to d

I would officially like to thank the people at la senza.

They have given me a cleavage.

At 600 bucks a pop, their deep cleavage enhancing bras deliver the goods. And how.

I can actually see a deep place between my boobs. I don’t know how those bras work. Whether they push, pull, heave or even magically create an optical illusion, but let’s give just them a big hand.

La, la, la senza.

my aunty has come

period underwear. heard of it? 

meet ms ostrich

This is too much of a coincidence.

Last night someone who saw me after almost a decade remarked “ Oh my god, you have lost so much weight.”

Normally I would have preened and silently gone ya ya dippy do. But this time I didn’t. Because just last month I had heard someone say that. The exact same words, “ My god, you have lost so much weight.”

The thing is I never knew that I was so fat, that I have now lost so much weight. Get what I’m saying? I always thought I was like this only. Middle of the road, trying hard to stay in the not exactly thin, but not fat either bracket.

So just now, at work, I tell this to someone who has known me for the last six years. And she shrugs and say, “ ya, but you were rou…big structured.” Big structured! Means fat. And rou…means round. And round means freaking fat!

Now I should be happy that they think I’ve lost weight. But I’m thinking, shit, I was so fat, and I had absolutely NO idea.

So what else am I blissfully unaware of?

Maybe I have a squint? Maybe I have a large bald patch behind my head? Maybe my bum is tilted? Maybe I walk like a freaking duck? Maybe I have dogs breath? Maybe I am not funny, and they are humoring me? Maybe my laugh is like Janice in friends.

Maybe I am just having a little post menstrual syndrome today.

heavy stuff

Can you juice exhaustion?

Serious. I feel totally run down today. I think it’s been a combination of two weeks of partying, loafing, eating out, travelling, scrubbing, train journeys. And now finally flat out dead weight. My body refuses to cooperate. It just feels heavy and lead like. My legs are wobbly. My head aches. My eyes refuse to stay open. And I have so much work. Groan. Moan. Bitch.

So I’m wondering if I can enjoy this feeling. Be conscious of it. Don’t ignore it, don’t stress over it, just keep it...in the moment.

Think my yoga classes are going to my head.

I’m turning guru.

size musings

two things.

first i bought a new top. olive green. well, we are talking agent green glass here. so it's olive green, with tiny straps. And it shows off my shoulders and my collar bones. which i have come to the conclusion are my A listers on the body parts scene.

i knew it was the find of the month, the minute i wore it to work. " you look hot!" was the general feedback. tra la la. shopping successful. point to be noted - from now all tops should show off the above mentioned body parts. though in practise this might be difficult. because i'm a notoriously impulsive shopper. and even worse, a compulsively impatient one. i have been know to buy a top i like, in three colours. which somewhere at the back of my head is positively a very non-fashionista thing to do. sigh.

second thing. my lack of boobs.

all tops that highlight the shoulders fortunately do things for the boobs. maybe they play with light and shade or something, but they manage to create an illusion of boobs. which makes me happy. because i'm convinced that though i can take on J Lo in matters of the derriere, there's no hope in hell for me in the boob department.

then yesterday, when i'm wearing my hot top, i read an article in GQ by a man, who is now fast becoming my most quoted man, on the pros and cons of silicon boobs. he talks about how his flat chested (really i hate that word. how about reasonable breasted?) girlfriend got silicon implants.

and the verdict was that they sucked. okay...now this is sounding like thinly veiled porn. but his point is they don't feel squishy and real. they just stay hard and plasticy. and refuse to move and fall around and get squashed...and you get the picture. so finally he realised that big boobs don't make a girl. and she went back, got the silicon out, and they are all happy... and squishy i guess.

so i'm thinking, big deal. why make a mountain out of a molehill. let me enjoy what i have. at least i can wear halter necks, tie ups, little scrappy things, bikini tops and tight T-shirts without worrying about how lopsided i'll look.

and the silicon story, well that's a weight off my chest.