Baby Fat

If I get any fatter I’ll have to shop in the men’s section. Where else will I find a 34 sized pair of jeans? Most of these apparel companies make trousers for svelte, small waist women. I can’t ever remember being like that.
Well, actually what you’d see on me would be Baby Fat. I try and convince myself that that’s what it is.
My brother says, “Yeah, sure. You are a baby alright, a baby elephant!”

I have never come across a woman who hasn’t had weight issues.

My sister looks at herself in the mirror and goes, “Oh my gawwd! I’m faaat.” I look up at her and at her shapely legs, flat stomach and toned arms.
“What?” I said, wondering what the hell she was bawling about.
“Can’t you see I’ve put on weight? My jeans are tight.”
“You’re jeans fit you alright and there’s no need to act paranoid. For god’s sake you’re only fifteen.”

“Why are you dressing yourself up like a nun?”
“Kav, my arms and legs are so skinny. I need a dress that covers my arms and legs.”
“You’re going for the Christmas Ball not the I Love Jesus Conference.”
Karen always thought she was too thin. I would give anything to be in her place. She could eat a large cheese burger or KFC bucket or a pizza with extra cheese and not think about calories, fat, weight, diet or exercise. She was naturally slim. Why didn’t she ever have any Baby Fat?

“I’m going to lose some weight and then join the gym.”
“Mama, you’ve been saying that for about… err… two? No. About five years now.”
Actually I don’t blame Mama, most ladies at the gym have such perfect figures you wonder what the hell are they doing at the gym. Showing off perhaps. Ignore me; I am just being Ms.Sour Grapes.

Like I said before I don’t ever remember being thin. I have been chubby my whole life.
When I was a kid, people used to go “Ooooh, such a cute kid. She’s soooo pink and plump and cuddly.”
Right! As a kid those are the best features you can have; when you grow up though those are acceptable only if you’re a bear and sitting on a shelf; the classic Valentines Day gift. Yeah, for guys that still is the best way and the cheapest, to get out of Diamonds.

Anyway, though I was not bothered about my baby fat there were a few others who were. The same people who found me cute and cuddly as a kid were now trying to tell me in different ways that Baby Fat was not in fashion; of course, since I was not a baby anymore.

“You should drink warm water mixed with lime and honey early in the morning. It helps melt the fat in the body.” My aunt thinks she is the know-all in weight loss therapies. I should’ve told her to try it herself. It’s difficult not to see that she has no neck and no waist and no svelte figure. Maybe her concoction is not enough to melt the fat in her body.

Mama had only one thing to say. “I pity your husband. He’s going to be in for a shock on your wedding day.”
First of all I didn’t have a boyfriend leave alone a husband. And Mama probably still believed that the wedding night would be the first time.
Sometimes she would say, “You’re never going to find a suitable boy if you don’t lose weight.”
Hmm, did I not have a boyfriend because I was fat? I never thought of that before. As long as I was fat I was never going to get any action; heck I was not even getting any looks, dirty or otherwise.
And yeah my wardrobe consisted of mainly long and loose T-shirts to camouflage my fat; now that could not be very sexy.
Plus, after climbing one flight of stairs I needed a drinks break. That can’t be good either.

I realised that I had to resort to spandex, Nikes and starvation to become the new improved sexy and healthy me.

First step was to go and sign up for a gym class. I researched for a week; gyms that had aerobics classes, good equipment, a dietician, a statistical record of how may people lost how many kilos and how many inches in how much time. After striking off the gyms that didn’t meet the criteria I narrowed down to two. One gym claimed that celebrities were their members and the other was just close to work. So the obvious choice was the former. I could be exercising and looking at celebrity butts, now that’s an incentive.

Off I went to Fitness Freak to sign up for gym class. “Good Evening, how may I help you?” Now if she got her figure by signing up in this gym then I was definitely signing up.
“Hi, I’d like to sign up for the gym class.”
“Please take a seat. Our counsellor will be with you shortly.”
Counsellor? Wow! Was I going to get free psychiatry sessions?
“Hi.” I heard a baritone voice and when I looked up I saw a Greek God. There was no other explanation for it. You don’t find people with even tan, perfect muscles, a baritone voice and the sexiest smile.
“Hi.” I said. It came out all stifled with cheeks blushing red.
That instant I wished I was thin and sexy and beautiful. There is no fairy god mother when you need her.

“Hi, I am the fitness counsellor. I’d like to take a few details before I put you on a fitness plan.”
Did they have a fitness plan for 24 hours straight? How much would it cost to get him as my personal trainer?
“What’s your name?”
“Kavisha.”
“Date of Birth?”
“30th May.”
“Year of Birth?”
That’s a cheeky way of getting to know your age actually. Some women are not bright though; they’ll tell you that they’re 25 and were born in the year 1970; that way they’d be 25 when scavengers and auto-rickshaw drivers did not have mobile phone, when we went to the newly opened Internet café and paid 90 bucks an hour for staring at “Internal Socket Error” (I’ll tell you about that story another time).

Once he had surveyed me for demographic details (yeah, weight and fat percentage included) he then asked me, “So tell me about your day.”
“Well my day is pretty normal; office and then home.” Since I didn’t want to sound like a total loser I added, “I go drinking and partying with friends over the weekend and sometimes during the week.”
“Well, that’s fine, but I want to know what time you wake up and what do you do after that.”
What do I do after I wake up? I go pee and then take a shit. I was not about to tell him about my crapping schedule.
“I wake up at about 7 in the morning.”
“And then?”
I didn’t know what to say, I looked at him thinking, Do you really want to know if I take a piss and shit?
He must’ve read my mind because he immediately came up with, “Do you drink water as soon as you wake up?”
“No.”
“Ok, what time is breakfast and what do you have.”
Ah ok, I got the drift. For ten minutes I was babbling away about my eating, drinking and smoking. And there was not even a minute of exercise included in my daily regime. He was scribbling away and kept nodding his head without looking up.
After I was finished, he looked up at me. It was time for the verdict.

“Well, you need to go sign up for the aerobics class and the gym. The aerobics will help you get your metabolism moving and the gym will tone your body.” He went on at length about anaerobic and aerobic exercises and how a combination of the two will help me lose weight.
Then he added, “You will need to see the dietician as well. She will help you with a balanced and healthy diet.”
He filled a few forms, asked me to sign and directed me to the payment counter. The guy at the counter jabbed into the computer and said, “That will be ten thousand rupees.”
“Ten thousand rupees per…” I wanted to say “per year” but he finished off my sentence with “month”.
I didn’t want to look too shocked and lose my dignity.
So I nodded an as-a-matter-of-factly nod and wondered whether to ask him for the price break-up or just pay up quietly. After deliberating for two seconds I paid up.
He then handed me a small paper bag and said, “This is your starters’ kit.”
I looked inside and found a booklet titled Rules, Regulations and Guidelines.

Rule #1: Member should wear only gym attire to the gym. No sandals or slippers. No loose fitting garments. No unbranded garments; garments will be checked for brand tags. No underwear.

By the time I got to rule #100, I had sweated out about 100 calories. Maybe this was the warm up exercise.

The next mission was to make a shopping list; I had to be well equipped for my new gym class. I returned home with ten huge bags filled with track pants, t-shirts, a sports water bottle, running shoes, gym towels, head bands, wrist bands, sports’ bras, sports’ socks, deodorants, err, yeah I did go a little overboard.

After about one week of rigorous exercise and staring at the gym instructor’s tight butt I twisted my ankle.
The doctor advised complete rest to my ankle and said that I shouldn’t strain it anymore. I think the ankle was just not used to being overworked.

So here I am, with all of my baby fat still intact. The doctor asked me not to strain my ankle and I think I should stick to his advice.

- Kavisha Pinto