I like it small

Size matters.

Does it, really?

Of course it does!

And no, it’s not the ‘bigger the better’ kinda matters. In my case, ‘the smaller, the better’.

Now put your perverted minds to rest. And read on.

By now, you all (or the four of you who read my blog regularly :/) must be quite familiar with my weight-issues, right? Alright, for those who are not- I used to be super-skinny all my life. Like, really thin. Maybe because of all the asthma medicines that I took as a child, I never used to put on weight. I was flat-chested till I was about 15, and my wrists used to bear an uncanny resemblance to dry twigs. My parents tried everything from Chyavanaprash to vitamin tablets to god-knows-what-and-all to plump me up. They were getting rather tired of being asked “Don’t you give her anything to eat?” Even after I got into college, no one used to believe that I’m not in school anymore. I never even used to check my weight, because I knew it would never cross 50. Heck, it never even hit 50. It was always at 49.

Since my metabolism was super-fast, and I didn’t put on weight no matter what, I never used to worry about what I ate. I was, and still am, a major foodie. I find comfort and joy in food.

Anyways, sometime before my 25th b’day, others started commenting on how I was putting on weight. I obviously did not notice because, you know, I see myself every day, so I didn’t really notice a change. My clothes were getting a little too comfy, but I didn’t give much bhaav to that, thinking (and secretly hoping) that they probably shrank.

Then it reached a point where EVERYONE started telling me that I was putting on weight, and some of my best-fitting clothes refused to move below my head. When I went home, everybody was surprised to see me. They had never thought that they would live to see the day when I would be plump.

Then I checked my weight. It had hit 54. I had gained 5 kilos in just a couple of months.

It was official. My metabolism had finally given up on me.

None of my old clothes fit me. Where earlier, I used to confidently pick up size XS or S without even having to try it on, I was now having to pick up size M. And sometimes, size L, if I wanted it really loose. It was a major blow to my ego.
Me?! Wearing size M?!!! How did I ever reach that level!

I don’t even look at the S and XS now. I go straight for the M.

But in certain brands, like Fabindia and Max, size S of the kurtas fit me perfectly. So now I go for those more, because it gives me an awesome feeling that size S does fit me after all. :)

I know, it sounds sad, but for someone who has been skinny all her life, the size of her clothes do matter. In fact, the S-er the better.

I’m trying my best to get back to my old shape now. My aim is to hit 50-51. And hopefully, I will soon. It’s not about others calling me fat anymore (yes, I did get called fat). It’s about me wanting to look good and in good shape.

Size S and XS, run all you want, because sooner or later, I’m gonna fit into you.

Daag acche hain? Ghanta!!

You know those detergent and bar soap ads that they show on TV, where they claim to get rid of ANY kind of stains? Oh you know the ones I’m talking about. The ones where a dirty shirt goes into the washing machine, and a clean, dried, blinding-white, ironed shirt comes out. It has always made me wonder whether there is an ishthri-wala sitting inside their washing machine, who presses the clothes soon as it gets washed and then hands it out.

But how come none of these ads show how to get rid of a period-stain? No, seriously.

Because they still haven’t invented a detergent that can remove period-stain that easily. It can be removed, if you’re ready to scrub for a day. But never easily.

Oh c’mon, don’t tell me none of you girls have had to deal with it! Stop cringing then. Ever since we got our first period, along with words of caution from nosey aunties about having become a ‘big girl’ and hence a baby-machine, monthly doses of cramps etc., staining is also very much a part of a girl’s life. You can’t wear light coloured clothes on those days, you constantly tell your friends to keep checking whether ‘there is anything behind’, you are very conscious while sleeping whether you’ll stain the bed-sheet or not, and no matter how much all these sanitary napkins claim to not twist or dislocate, it will happen eventually. Unless you’re sitting at home in one place all day long.

I still remember wearing white-and-white uniform to school one Saturday. I had got my first period only a month or two before that. That stupid Saturday, we had to sit on the floor for some class. And when I got up, lo and behold, a dark red blotch on my white skirt. That I was in a co-ed school didn’t help matters one bit. I was so embarrassed! I ran to the bathroom and asked one of my friends to pin up my skirt with a safety pin in a way that’ll cover up the stain. Thankfully it was the last class of the day, and I hurried to the school bus and sat in the front, so that I won’t have to pass many people while getting down at my stop.

There was this girl in my class who had got her period a month previously, and she got it again after a couple of weeks (the first couple of cycles can be pretty irregular, I’ve heard). She panicked that she had got it again so soon and didn’t tell her mom about it. Instead, she came to school, on a Saturday wearing white uniform, without putting a napkin. By the second period (the class, not the cycle), it was like a crime scene on her back-side. And you know how guys are, right? They ask exactly those questions that we don’t want to answer. Especially when they know the answer themselves! These are 7th standard boys we’re talking about. Almost reaching puberty, and curious as hell about girls. So finally, this girl got all teary-eyed because all the guys were staring at her (well, at her skirt, to be precise). The teachers called her mom to come pick her up, and she was packed off home.

I used to be very careless when I was younger about staining. I mean, I never used to be bothered about it. And Amma used to hiss at me to be more careful, because it was getting to be a pain when we visited others’ homes. :/ (Damn, I’m still embarrassed by it). I’m more careful about it. But I know I will never be confident enough to wear white jeans or skirts or salwars, or sleep flat on my back during my chums. Heck, I don’t even like visiting others’ houses at that time. I’ll always have it at the back of my mind that I might end up staining their bed-sheets. I would die of shame then! :/

Maybe we should invite one of those detergent companies to our homes (they have those campaigns na, where they barge into random people’s toilets and clean them. What fun), and instead of giving them curry-stained or dirt-stained dress, we should give them a period-stained dress. If they can clean it, then I will agree that it definitely is the best detergent in the world. Yes, I will even ignore the fact that they hide isthri-walas inside their washing machines.

P.S 1:- To the male readers of DOV, stop cringing and judging. Just keep in mind that you will also get married (or not) one day and will have to live with a girl, who will gets her chums every month and you’ll just have to put up with all the mood swings and cramps and what-not’s. Oh all the best with that, by the way.

P.S 2:- I’m so sorry I haven’t been more regular with my posting here. Was going through a writing-slump. But I’ve been around and reading all the posts religiously. Will definitely try to be more regular!

The virgin post

“So you’re a virgin?” I’ve been asked this so many times, I’ve lost count. And I say, “Umm.. my zodiac is Virgo, ya.”

Turns out they were asking about my sun sign when I told them my DOB, rather than about THE V. Some guys do it deliberately, to see whether I get embarrassed, but the shameless that I am, I smile saccharine-sweetly and reply “Like I’ll tell you.”

Anyways, moving on.

You know when that whole Oh-the-world-is-going-to-end-in-2012-hallelujah!” brouhaha was going on, the first thought that came to my mind was “Damn! I don’t wanna die a virgin! I have to do something about this!!” And I said it out loud. Not just in my head. As expected, I was met with a lot of weird glances because a)everyone else was worried about the world ending, and here I was, worried about dying a virgin( they just didn’t get it), and b)I was not married. And isn’t it a sin for an unmarried girl to even think about sex?

Why is it made out to be such a sin if a girl loses her virginity before she gets married, especially considering the fact that after a married couple’s first night, EVERYONE wants to talk about it? Your mother-in-law, your sister-in-law, your cousin-in-law, your neighbour-in-law- everyone wants to know whether ‘IT’ happened the previous night. Some cultures even demand that the blood-stained bed-sheet be paraded for proof. (True story. Not trying to gross you out.)

So while Indians claim to be conservative about sex, they also make it their business to know what is going on in others’ personal lives. And if they find out that an unmarried girl is not a virgin, then they’ll judge her for sure. They picture sex as ‘wrong’, but themselves go ahead and make babies enough to start a football team.

I think on one hand, why a girl is hesitant to take the plunge before marriage is fear. Fear of what the guy will think of her. “Will he think I’m a slut? Will he lose respect for me? Will he break up with me just because I slept with him before even talking about a future together? What if he doesn’t marry me? What if I get pregnant? What will my husband say when he finds out I’m not a virgin?” Fear of pain. “My best friend’s sister’s friend’s aunt’s grandmother said that the first time hurts a lot.” Fear of being judged/punished. “My friend’s parents found contraceptive pills in her bag and now she’s under house arrest.”

By this time, not only would the girl have changed her mind, she would also have developed a life-long revulsion towards sex.

Do you know what I really feel? Virginity, just like religion, caste, creed, is an unnecessary label, made up by narrow-minded individuals who probably thought up of this theory when they were about to die, without having had any action in their life. And not to forget, sexist. Why else would there be a ‘test’ to know whether a girl is a virgin or not, but no such thing for a guy? How is that fair?

There is nothing wrong in feeling more than just love towards the guy you love (applies to guys too). Hormones were given to you for a reason. To feel them. So if you feel them, but just shut it all up inside for the fear of society, then you’ll just end up getting frustrated. Isn’t ‘sexually aroused’ a much better feeling that ‘frustrated’? Some people express their love through words, some physically. If it works for both the guy and girl, then what’s the issue? Love is not the only emotion you are conditioned to feel.

But hey, at the end of the day, it’s every girl’s personal choice. Remember that. Just like you can’t force your body to get its first period, you cannot force your body to have sex unless your mind is not ready for it. If it feels right, do it. You can put at least that much of trust in your own judgment, can’t you? But remember, there is a thin line between being modern and promiscuous. As long as you know what you’re doing, you don’t need to listen to anyone else.

As for the debate ‘Virginity is directly proportional to marriage’, that has been going on since my great-grandmother’s time, and will go on till the time your children have great-grandchildren. You live your life the way you want to. Personally, I would much rather ‘lose’ my virginity to a guy I love before marriage than to the complete stranger I got married to. Because it’s not just an animal act.

And for those of you who are wondering whether I’m still a virgin or not, yes, my zodiac is still Virgo. ;)

P.S:- Apologies for the long, meandering, lost-its-track-somewhere-in-between post. Only when I started writing did I realize that I have too many opinions on this topic. So many, that I couldn’t channel it. Extremely sorry for the rambling. And also apologies if any of my views have offended you. That wasn’t my intention at all.

ETA: I read Maithili's post about this topic and what she's written about the fear factor after I published my post. Sorry, Maithili! Agree with each and every point you've written.

Of depression bouts and exhilarating haircuts

You know why God destined women to have long hair?

So that we can go chop-chop-chop when we’re down and depressed.

I mean, seriously! Think about it! Do men have that option? Not unless they have long, rockstar-type hair. But for women, it’s such an easy option. You grow your hair so that you can take out all your frustration on your hair rather than go kill the person who caused the frustration.

When I was a kid, I was never allowed to grow my hair. Primarily because I was an asthma patient and my folks felt that if I have too much hair on my head, it’ll lead to unnecessary sweating, which will lead to the next bout of wheezing. Some such logic. So it was always a blunt cut, till just below my ears.

As I grew up, my sister- who was not allowed to cut her hair because she has thick curly hair- started experimenting on me. She took it upon herself to take me to the parlour and then try all sorts of hairstyles on me. Wedge-cut, mushroom-cut, blunt cut, razor-cut, boy-cut- God only knows what and all cut! And I used to sit on the chair and silently cry, because I hated getting my hair cut.

Somewhere in my teens, I started growing my hair. And I used to have nice, silky, straight hair (‘used to’ in bold-italics-underline). So I would take real good care of it. Oil it every week, brush it like every half an hour, try different hairstyles, etc. I used to be known for my hair. I hardly experimented with it, and the most I would do was trim the ends. But it never grew till my waist. It just refused to.

Once I came to Hyderabad, the water completely destroyed my hair. It started falling like the rain falls in Cherapunji- heavily and ALL THE TIME! The texture became rough. And then I went and got a step-cut. That was the end of my hair as I knew it.
I did try to grow it out many times. Each time I go for a haircut, I think “Ok, this is the last time I’m cutting it. I’m going to let it grow. I’m NOT going to chop it off again.”

But here is the problem with me. If I get depressed with something (mostly guy-trouble), I simply HAVE to do something. And by something, I mean, I need to do some type of make-over to make myself feel better. Sounds sad, I know. But I would rather look better than cut a vein or some such bullshit. So every time I get depressed, I either go buy some new dress or get a haircut. One time, I even got a piercing done- third stud in my ear (I realize I’m on the verge of being put in the ‘Cuckoo’ box).

Another reason- even if they’re just trimming the hair a bit, these parlours will charge a minimum of 400 bucks. So I’m like, What the hell, I’m paying this much, I might as well get a proper haircut!

You get the picture?

The last time I had a haircut was in June. Again, the same resolve. That I will let it grow this time. I even went and bought hair serums and a hair straightening iron to style it well.

What was I thinking??

Because hair may come, hair may go. But guy-troubles? They’re a permanent fixture.

So off I marched to the parlour on Saturday afternoon (Yup, I WALKED nearly two kilometres in the hot afternoon sun. I was THAT pissed). I sat in the chair and told the lady, “Just cut it off. Make it short. Do whatever you like.” So she did. Now my formerly bra-hook-length hair (I’m sorry, I don’t know how else to explain the length :/) is now a little below my ears. It’s not exactly a boy-cut, but somewhere along the same lines. And yes, I look like a 7th-standard kid now. Not girl. Kid.

And I felt SO much better after I got it done! It was like half my depression had been chopped away with the hair! I’m still not talking to my guy, but that’s another story. I have my brand new haircut to fuss over right now. Men can wait. ;)

So there you go ladies! Next time you are down-in-the-dumps, don’t bother to slash your wrists or get drunk or make sobbing phone calls. Just go get a haircut. There are so many fun things you can do to your hair! Trust me, it’s the BEST therapy! :)

What do you do when you need a depression-fix?

What a work of art is WOMAN.

We go to the parlour and sit through threading, waxing, etc every month.

We willingly get piercings done in all sorts of places.

We wear bras with hard underwire that dig into the skin and leave ugly red marks, just so that our breasts look firmer and perkier.

We actually wait to get our periods so that we can finally, officially, be called a grown-up, even if we writhe in pain for ‘those’ 3-4 days of the month because of cramps.

We look forward to getting married, getting pregnant and going into labour.

We wear heels to add to our style.

We sometimes wear clothes so tight that it becomes difficult to breath.

We blow-dry our hair, where the lady at the beauty parlour pulls at our hair so hard that only half of it is remaining at the end of it.

We fall in love, more often than not with the wrong guy, pushing away the sweet, genuine guy, in spite of knowing all along that we're gonne end up getting hurt.

Do you even need more proof that women actually like pain?

P.S 1:- Hey there! I'm new here. :)

P.S 2:- Am I the oldest member of the group? The cynicism shows, doesn't it? Dammit...